NATARAJA

I crave an image to embody the entropy of my errant thoughts & visions. The Nataraja… the dancing Shiva…. this of all images is the distillation of who I am… who we are… this encapsulates all I know… all I need to know... the right foot steps on the dwarf of the ego.... the cobra is the divine hidden knowledge… the coiled Kundalini that drives up the fuse of the stem of the spine like the loosened flower blossom of life itself..... the right hand shakes the hourglass of creation… back & forth … the oscillation of the masculine & feminine…. the left hand releases the tempered fire of purification…. the offering of benediction…. the eyes shaded in inward concentration the hair spayed like the delta of the Ganges itself… & death ever-present…. death is the guide… the inner eye of awareness always open…. & all flowing through the dance… the cosmic dance of creation & destruction… birth & death…. & the great destroyer… our Creator steps onto the tips of toes & spins the wheel…. & the dance continues…. even as I write this… I feel the Joy rising up through the great axis of who I am … & I want to move… to sway … to swirl….. can you taste the Bliss?…. join the great circle fellow being… & dance!… dance!… dance!

MANDALA

Black Elk Circle Poem

  

You have noticed that everything an Indian does is in a circle, 

and that is because the Power of the World always works in circles, 

and everything and everything tries to be round. 

  

In the old days all our power came to us from the sacred hoop 

of the nation and so long as the hoop was unbroken the people 

flourished. The flowering tree was the living center of the hoop, 

and the circle of the four quarters nourished it. The east gave peace 

and light, the south gave warmth, the west gave rain and the north 

with its cold and mighty wind gave strength and endurance. This 

knowledge came to us from the outer world with our religion. 

  

Everything the power of the world does is done in a circle. 

The sky is round and I have heard that the earth is round like a ball 

and so are all the stars. The wind, in its greatest power, whirls. 

Birds make their nests in circles, for theirs is the same religion as ours. 

The sun comes forth and goes down again in a circle. The moon 

does the same and both are round. Even the seasons form a great 

circle in their changing and always come back again to where they were. 

  

The life of a man is a circle from childhood to childhood, and so it is 

in everything where power moves. Our teepees were round like the 

nests of birds, and these were always set in a circle, the nation’s hoop, 

a nest of many nests, where the Great Spirit meant for us to hatch our children. 

  

Black Elk, Holy Man of the Oglala Sioux 1863-1950 

LORD OF THE DANCE

The first activity that made us human was not speech but dance. We came together around a fire. In a circle. There were drums. We began to move together.  A shuffle. A bob. A swoop. A swirl. Pirouette. One two. One two. Grace. Power. Rhythm. A simultaneous movement. This is who we are. Ecstatic… ecstatic together. Eyes hooded. The mind quiet. The beat of the drum. The beat of the heart. Synchronous. This movement seems lost to us. Especially as we grow old. But it is right there. Listen to the beat. Feel it in your toes… in your heels. One step leads to two steps. Remember who you are. Let the fire light warm you. Let the flow of the dance carry you like a river. Become yourself... Lord of the Dance

FEATHER

The ancient Egyptians knew a lot about the transition from this world to the world after living. At the moment of death the heart is weighed by a being with the head of a Golden Wolf. Here’s the beauty… it was weighed against a feather… a Snowy Owl feather. If the heart was heavier than the feather there was no journey to the perfection of eternity. To be light-hearted… to carry no weight of sorrow… of Samsara… in the human heart… what a brilliant injunction. I finally received the message this week. The brain is not where the soul of man resides. The brain is simply the on-board computer that runs the vehicle of my body. It’s importance is all puffery. The memory in the fibres of my heart that is where the nidus of my soul lives. The heart is a pulsing toric electromagnetic field generator. & here is the irony…. to be free… spiritually free… it needs to be light as a Snowy Owl feather.

ONE FLAME

Have you, like me, not laid in the dark awake?

Have you, like me, not sought an abiding grace?

Have you, like me, not opened your inward eyes?

Have you, like me, not seen the ocean rise?

Can you discard your human skin, oh snake?

Can you not surf & crest on the prism wave?

Can you well up & spread like silver quick...

& then return to the flame of the single wick?

When you become your luminous self divine 

Return to the ebb & flow of timeless time.

The pearl resides beneath the sifting layers

& here is there & now is everywhere.

FIVE CIRCLES

SNOWY OWL

My deepest love is for the North….. the North & yes for Winter. My nation is Winter. The north defines every aspect of who I am. How to find a symbol to represent that deep, deep love. I saw a Snowy Owl once sitting silent in the middle of a great expanse of tundra up in the Arctic on Banks Island. That is who I am. The Snowy Owl. I stake that claim. I am powerful in solitude… in the depth of winter. I fly silent as a snow flake in an endless snow fall. I embrace Silence. I embrace the pure white of a field filled with snow. From that point of stillness Time itself never moves & never has moved &  every other possibility blossoms forth. Begin again at the beginning. Begin again. As always. It begins.