Saturday, June 27, 2009

The River She is Calling You


It is dusk when I arrive, over bleached rocks dry and white, at the river's edge. Shadowy enough that I flinch when lizard scurries under brush and bat swoops across my path.
Self-absorbed and squatting there under hypnosis of water rushing-its-hushing-by, instinct jerks my head toward the periphery as a young doe emerges. She halts. We stare at each other. And stare longer. Until I get bored and look away. I usually give up before they do.

The light glows peachy on the pines, cedars and oaks, dense, immense and ancient on the mountain. I can hear the voice of Cella, an artist I know who paints magnificent canvases of roses, "It's called the 'gloaming,' this time of the day when the light is just like this." I remember how she looked at the light the way others worship deities.

Young doe begins to cross the shallow river (I must have missed her drinking). She makes a purposeful line to the opposite bank, moving carefully, deliberately, rhythmically. I can feel her intimate communication with the water. She is a part of its rhythm. She falters very little and hesitates only slightly as she makes her way through current, crevice and slippery rock to the other side.

Must be those stylin' hooves she's got and those long, lithe gams. I imagine the spectacle of making the same crossing: wobbly-cursing-slipping-falling on my ass in a big dramatic splash-river retreads flying in the air-yelling-whining about the cold-freaking about losing control in the current-some hurrah of aggrandizement upon completion. I smile about how ridiculous it is to be human.

I cup water in my hands and splash my face. The intensity has me catch my breath. I keep washing my face until the water feels like it has penetrated my spirit and the cobwebs are floating down the river.

Refreshed, somewhat reluctant, I turn away from the fading warmth of the bank to make my way back home. I am stopped by a crescent of new moon standing out bright white in the pink purple velvet sky. I feel my bursting heart. I open to the throbbing pulse of love and joy.

I surrender to the annihilating ecstasy of beauty. I allow the tears of gratitude to flow.

We never step into the same river twice.

Namaste.


You can check out Cella's magnificent roses here.

12 comments:

  1. Lisa, I got goosebumps reading this at the end. You're a doll to mention my roses -- and to think about me at the gloaming! My sister was the one who turned me on to that word. I guess it's something you remember.

    Had a dinner party here last night and of course my studio is in my living room, so some people get all involved with the art. And this one guy said, "Okay, what's the deal with the center of your paintings, they all have a center. What's in the center? What's in there if you go in?" It was quite a question!

    And the answer was really quite simple. It's Mystery, God/Goddess, Source, All that Is, All that Isn't, That which cannot be described... how can I explain? It's what Cannot be Painted (if I may so capitalize my words!)

    He got it.

    Which, I guess, is why I paint the roses. It's as close as I can get in expression to the Divine Mystery. Well, there are other ways, too, haha, that's where YOUR industry comes in! Speaking of which, I've been meaning to join your facebook fan site, Awakening Shakti, or whatever it's called, gonna, go do it right now.

    Love, Cella

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hey Fairy Lisa,
    Great to connect to you through your words. And thank you for your being. you're such a love and a light. You are a good reminder for me to enjoy the ancients all around me too.

    Love Bill W.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I am so tickled that my husband commented earlier this evening. Can you hear the band?

    Gloaming, that soft glow at the day's end. The light that cativates my senses and soothes me. I can't help but take it in.

    The river shocked the sludge out of my system today. Crisp like a whip it snapped me into the exhilarating presence of now. Grace took me on a nature walk downstream. She seemed so smitten with herself that she had done that some walk with you last summer. She remembered how you picked out her willow bark.

    I love the image of never entering a river twice. The movement of water, the movement of this moment.

    You are a beautiful writer, it is candy for my soul.

    Love, Karen

    ReplyDelete
  4. Wow! What beautiful expressive words to describe your "River Experience." Can't wait to read your book, Kama Sutra!

    Namaste

    Brenda T. Horton

    ReplyDelete
  5. Having been to this river, I can SO visualize every detail you describe; but even so, your words are beautiful. The sentiment is beautiful and your connection to the universe is inspiring and makes me yearn for that connection as well. Just lovely. Can't wait to "hear" more. Kathryn

    ReplyDelete
  6. Long Hair

    Hunting Season:

    Once every year, the Deer catch human beings. They
    do various things which irresistibly draw men near them;
    each one selects a certain man. The Deer shoots the man,
    who is then compelled to skin it and carry its meat home
    and eat it. Then the deer is inside the man. He waits and
    hides in there, but the man doesn't know it. When
    enough Deer have occupied enough men, they will strike all
    at once. The men who don't have Deer in them will
    also be taken by surprise, and everything will change some.
    This is called "takeover from inside".

    Deer Trails:

    Deer trails run on the side hills
    cross country access roads
    dirt ruts to bone-white
    board house ranches,
    tumbled down.

    Waist high through manzanita,
    Through sticky, prickly, crackling
    gold dry summer grass.

    Deer trails lead to water,
    Lead sideways all ways
    Narrowing down to one best path –
    And split –
    And fade away to nowhere.

    Deer trails slide under freeways
    slip into cities
    swing back and forth in crops and orchards
    run up the sides of schools!

    Deer spoor and crisscross dusty tracks
    Are in the house: and coming out the walls:

    And deer bound through my hair.

    Gary Snyder

    ReplyDelete
  7. Beautiful Lisa!

    After reading your post my senses are stimulated yet comforted. The river is liquid and enticing like the sea, fluid and ungraspable. It draws me into its womb and then gives me life to quench my thirst, a flowing endless wonder..

    Sending Love and Appreciation,
    Gena

    ReplyDelete
  8. Truly FLOORED, in awe of the quality of these posts. You are all just amazing. Sitting in gratitude for your expressions. Marveling at he poetry that lives in all of us. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Thanks Lisa for sharing this and showing us how there is always more than meets the eye and to find the stillness to look for it.

    ReplyDelete
  10. I could see the river. Feel the bracing cold of snowmelt river on my face. Watch the deer. Imagine hoofs and slender gams picking through invisible slippery rocks, peering warily at the shadows on the way to the other side.

    Lisa, your poetry and evocative imagery (that's good writing!) remind me of the here and now, the fleeting bliss or discomfort of any given moment.

    Driving home in traffic in the city today, I pondered the qualities of inner peace, joy, and groundedness. I thought of folks I know who achieve those states of being through drugs, drinking, sex, relationships, creating chaos, fulfilling cravings...only to find the sense of peace, joy and groundedness to be fleeting, as they are only a temporary state due to external elements and/or people 'feeding' the hunger.

    Then I thought of folks I know who tend to exist in the states of peace, joy and groundedness...most of the time! And how those states of being are due to heightened consciousness, which allows choice, which allows responsibility-taking, which allows the understanding that the true source of peace, joy & groundedness is within. The external elements that support these states of being tend to be mutual friendships and interactions with like-minded people, healthy self-care, and connection to nature.

    Here in the city, far from the nature & like-minded friends I so love, I find small ways and moments to feed myself, but am aware that I mostly rely on myself, my heightened consciousness (oh, years of work, still working, still loving it) to keep my inner source keepin' on, keeping me peaceful, joyful and grounded...most of the time...

    Which brings me back to you, your work, your writing. What you do supports the heightened consciousness that allows true choice, knowledge that we create our realities, and the stronger likelihood that we will make choices and engage in activities which support the peaceful, joyful, grounded, blissful, sensuous, simply happy states of being we all seek.

    Thank you for sharing yourself, your wisdom, your softness and your power in such an incredible balance.


    With love & gratitude for your friendship,

    Swantje

    ReplyDelete
  11. thanks for the beautiful expression of your comments Swantje and for your heart and appreciation.

    ReplyDelete
  12. Luminous writing -- each post is a sparkling jewell-- as are the accompanying pictures.
    Thanks,
    Al

    ReplyDelete