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Feeling things deeply now…
How to carry on… when the hardest punch is thrown? Otis Gibbs sure knows how to write a good song.
Drill pressure is such that fluid expands outside the channel – seen when bursting through into bottom of stream, wetland, or land.
I realized the other night, that they may never listen to us.
When we cannot even listen to each other, how can we hope that the aligned powers that be, will ever have an ear to hear our pleas?
Perhaps they will learn to hear us? When they realize the pain they have caused… in their own heated rush… for self-fulfillment… of a greed that is not truly satisfied… by force?
Perhaps they will realize it is through coherent, collective, collaborative cooperation – where all have enough and all are fulfilled, all are heard and heeded – that we release the old ways and find a new way forward? A way that is truly and beautifully compassionate, loving, and coherent.
I’m sorry, Nimaamaaaki… for not listening to You when you called to me… asking.
How many more times can You take this failure from us?
How many more times will You forgive us for not listening?
For not doing what You ask of us – to love and protect you…
…as You love and protect us?
Giving up Everything
Giving up everything
my hungry ghost of hopefulness
Giving up everything
not haunted by wanting this
Giving up everything
the fortune I was saving
Giving up everything
I mercy-killed my craving
Giving up everything
I’ve opened up my eyes for this
Giving up everything
see the whole magnificent emptiness
Gave what I want for how it is
for the stone inside and the bitterness
for the sweetness at the core of it
Giving up everything
The master plan, the scheming
Giving up everything
my cursed search for meaning
Giving up everything
the compass and the map I was reading.
The hinterlands I’m leaving
I’m finally leaving behind
Giving up everything
the big to-do, the hullabaloo
The tug-of-war for some twisted truth
For the everlasting ache of it
No longer slave, not chained to it
no gate, no guard, no keeper
no guru, master, teacher
See the slow-receding faces
dissolve to black, no traces
Meanwhile, I remain… an Army of One.
I am surrounded by comrades.
And we are Learning to Sit Without Knowing…
We are all Highwomen… hoping all will come to understand how to Do No Harm.
Are we feeling the hopeful desperation… of birthing this new world? It feels we’re almost there.
She’s going to be worth all the pains, pressures, gains, and losses… of this long, hard labor.