This morning I awaken humming the tune to Ruach. Ruach means peace, but its root comes from the word for Breath – Spirit. It also contains a Nigun. A Nigun is sung to a series of syllables, in this case, Lai, lai, la lai lai, la lai, lai, la lai, lai, … . Niguns evolved when the Jews were being persecuted and not allowed to worship and pray in their language. The ‘nonesense’ syllables of the Nigun stood for prayers which they knew in the silence of their hearts – so pray they could anyways. Prayer is a good thing.
This morning’s tune made me think of the wonderful book of Theodore Reik, one of the many precious book people that I burned, The Haunting Melody. His basic premise is that all melodies come to us with a message. Ruach, what a blessing on this day.
To wake up with Ruach [I mean I did not think it, or choose it], I know I am totally held, totally taken care of. I also know it has been given to me now to bring to the Trager Conference in mid July which I have been asked to open with Dances of Universal Peace. Ruach is like the ‘Hook-Up’ that Milton Trager gave to us, the deeply meditational place of connectedness with All-that-is from which to share his work with another. How perfect.
This morning’s walking, singing, opening, spiral meditation took me down along a cow path; my spot of meditation, given to me when the spiral is fully opened, this day is a dry creek bottom. Although dry, the marks of the flow of water are oh so clear: branches bent downwards, leaves and twigs collected in bundles where the water left them, gullies between the rocks where the water once flowed…
Such an honor it is to have this time: “Speak no evil, do no harm.” Why this rush in the Western world to Do, Do, Do. Am I not contributing to the well-being of the earth just by being the vibration of Ruach this morning? Is that not enough? We create so much pain in our worlds by feeling we have failed at all we need to ‘Do’ – or in ‘Doing’ – as currently in the humungous oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico – perpetrating harm in our Doing.
In gratitude, I am open to my day of Being.
Half and hour later, back at camp:
Keenly aware as I left my morning meditation spot in the gully that this morning I had neglected to bring my cell phone with me. In my 70th year, when bushwhacking through scrub oak at 8000 feet, I consider it prudent to have that life-line with me.
How much more attention I paid on this morning’s return. Scrub oak is gnarly, short, tough, intertwined – can be a way harsh bush-whack, especially in shorts. So I follow the cow, deer, elk trails. Very clear to me as I meander this way and that along the trails, that they do not navigate with a Western linear mind! Find myself remembering the angles at which the morning shadows of the trees had papered the ground of my camp site – for that, mid the seemingly random meanderings of the animals paths, is my compass. I listen for the sounds of the dirt road above me – but as vehicles are infrequent this is of little use. I know that somewhere to the right of me runs a gas line, and that some distance to the left of me runs an electric line – other arms of the compass.
I realize how this phone-less meander has honed all my senses, and reawakened my deep inner knowing of how to navigate.
How orphaned are we in our modern world – our paths are prescribed, we have no need to hone these navigational skills. No wonder we get lost.
Pure delight when I emerged on the road: directly opposite where my RV, ‘Ms Freedom’, is parked.
This is a journey of re-member-ing, putting myself back together – deeply.
Had I started building in March as I had planned – until I was stopped dead in my tracks – I would have built from a place of my forgotten knowing. Now, if ever I choose to build, it will be from a place of deep Knowing, deep navigational remembering skills.
Pooping in the woods is joyously satisfying. First, being certain you are at lest 200 feet from any water way, you find a large stone and over-turn it, creating a great poop hole. Then the squat puts the sigmoid colon in just the right orientation to Let Go. Poop and paper after concealed by the replaced rock. The soil microorganisms will complete the job, returning “earth to earth and dust to dust”. The cows are not so considerate!
All this, and I have not yet breakfasted. Right now I am break-fasting on the sound of the wind in the pine tops: Ruach. Then the four-wheelers come rumbling by, shiny black, pink, bright blue and red. Exhaust is now heavy in this pristine air… And then again, the Silence returns, the Ruach of the pines dancing with the morning breeze.
I have given myself a book-person companion for daily reading on this journey: Earth Medicine, Ancestors’ Ways of Harmony for Many Moons by Jamie Sams. The book follows the rhythm of the moon cycles with simple, beautiful, deep and sometimes humorous daily teachings. This morning’s reading: Currents of the River, p. 156, spoke deeply to me. I am a river of life, flowing. I just came off five days on the Green River in May, and am hoping for a day on the Colorado near Grand Junction next week. I share Jamie Sams poem with you:
“The currents of the river
Take me ‘round each bend,
Over white-water rapids,
Until I begin to blend
With the Water Spirits.
As we journey on our way,
Past the shores of memories,
The sun dawns on today.
The flow of life engulfs me,
My passage, the river’s sounds,
The currents take me safely,
‘Til I stand on sacred ground.
The songs of the river
Still ring within my soul,
Asking me to sing with them,
As I stand upon the shoal.
“Allow all those around you
To follow their own trails,
Finding their uniquenesses,
And telling their own tales.
Every current is different,
Every lesson will unfold,
And the flow of each river,
Brings blessings to the soul.”
And finally, I share a poem written to / for me last week by my friend Cyndy Hodo:
There are flowers that bloom
Only after the soil has been disturbed.
You see them along roadways,
After new construction
Or blooming among blackened trees
After wildfire has swept thru,
Seeds that have been waiting a long time.
Some of us are like that too,
Resting in seed form
Until disturbance wakes us,
And then for some reason,
Amidst the chaos, we bloom.
May God bless you in your travels Marianna. Love, Cyndy
And blessings on this pre-summer Solstice morn to all of you whose navigational compass brings you to this page. Peace and ease and much love on your journey.
As I learn the navigational skills required by this site, I will make it more beautiful.
Until then, simply know that all writings are copyrighted. You may forward the link to it generously to your all friends whose heart and spirit you think it will touch: http://www.hartsong.net
I look forward to receiving your emails at: well ‘at’ hartsong ‘dot’ net.
Bless Your Heart and go in Peace, your friend, J Marianna