Posts Tagged: Prayer
Peter Cotton-Tail was in the Hizz-ouse.
There was feasting and ceremony and treasure hunts and skype visits and flying chickadees, but above all glee. Glee to be gathered, but missing our beautiful kwe’s. They have been flying reindeer, making music and a documentary with Adjagas, (courtesy Big Soul Productions and a whack of other talented film peeps), some fabulous Sammi musicians of Norway. However, we were grateful for the miracles of the interwebs, in that Skype allowed them to be a part of our ceremony of re-birth and giving thanks.
I crafted and baked our gifts to wee ones, except for the chocolates for the hunt. Really now.
I cooked all day with some (missing a couple), of my coven and an exceptional young man home from B.C. Thank-you Nicholyn Farms phone in grocery order capabilities and local Barrie Farmers Market drop-off to pick up. That’s some 100 mile love right there.
Ghosts From Christmas Past
Boogedy Boo.
Life has a very strange way of crushing one at times. With love, blessed beginnings, nasty-sickness-that-just-won’t-go-away, deadlines, defeat, waves of overpowering depression, doubt, joy, never-ending-to-do-list, fear, mayhem. I’ve been indulging in escapism to ignore, y’know; the procrastinate to make it worse syndrome.
I’m told I’m too hard on myself, but – this. Is. JUST. HOW. I. FEEL. As you can tell I am pulling myself out of a wee bit of a dark hole as of late, despite the beauty (and madness) trailing out from the holidays and the bliss of my recent engagement and the most joyful news! It turns out that those doctors really were wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Baby no. 2 is on the way! I’d say that the birth of 1 and expected pregnancy of another is proof that I’m quite fertile, yes? That and the BSM has some stellar swimmers.
No No Keshagesh…Reconsider This
*UPDATE 2012: This post is a biggie. Leave it open on your browser. Come back to it often. Soak it up in all of it’s entirety. Please.*
In lieu of the upcoming holidays; there is much to be thankful for, much to discuss in love and unity, much to reconsider. I was in a debate recently over FB. Yea, Facebook. It happens. It was in response to this video being posted by a wise friend.
A 9 mo. Old Wee Strappin’ Lad aka: WSL
Could it be? My sweet baby boy; our Little Big Spirit Running, that you’ve entered into three quarters of a year in age? Nine months and a few days past when you found your place in this realm, here on earth. Leader from the sky; Wyndham Nighanagiizhig Tobias Mills.
You’d been dreamt about by me. Dreamt about by our elder as a wise leader from the spirit realm; here now, to run wild, happy and free. Running to discover the knowledge you have, as given to you by our grandfathers. But first it’s your toes to discover…tiny little nubs round and sweet as corn apparently, as you repeatedly flex them up to your mouth to gobble and slurp upon. The tickle of grass you clench and gritty feel of dirt you claw with glee. Your voice, your limbs, the magic in every corner. Every day is pure joy and exploration through your eyes, transposed into me. You give us such complete and natural bliss. The world is different now to us, to me, through your wise young eyes…
The Bacterial Death Squad
Has come to pay me an ever. So. Sweet. Visit. Arrooogaaahhh. The good part? I was not contagious. After all my homeopathic/natural medicine, rest, clear, non-sugary fluids by the gallon, several home sweats. With oils. After all of this I still felt like the Grim Reaper was at my door. Today is the first day I felt well enough to do more than barely scrape by my absolute responsibilities. Of which there are many. Thanks to good ‘ole penicillin. So. The benefits of believing in both science and nature I shall reap.
To Have & Have Not
What no words can paint. You, my Little Big Spirit Running; my Leader From The Sky, my prodigal son, have bequeathed unto me a blessing of the highest order.
Your presence, your trust, your life, your love.
As I sit and flounder over adjectives to describe the ample hole you have filled in this well-traveled soul; I mire against the trite. My love for you is vast and huge and deliciously intense. Although, to write about YOU is for another day. That deserves a dedication all it’s own. This day is for me to talk about a conception, I never thought I’d have.
Son, I laid tobacco down the other day; under that tree, the kind that speaks to your momma.