How Are You Navigating in the Time of Dramatic Change?
Simply rich. Stories. Wonderings. Shared among Berkana friends. Focused on a question. Listening. Giving full support. Daring to be in our learning edges, knowing it is the only way.
How Are You Navigating in this Time of Dramatic Change?
Can you hear me? I am near, me. Near without fear.
I’m tellin’ a story about these Atlantic waters.
In my first ocean worthy boat sailin’ with all of us new in the deep sea blue.
I thought the harbor would be visible and open.
Of fuck, it is all haze.
I saw the opening for one moment only, but it was all we needed in that day.
I would do it again. And I do.
Popped up in scale, I remind others I have no idea what I’m doing.
I’m shedding myself into longevity and multi scale.
I just read your article and committed to try it. Whack this out. Here we go.
Feelin’ the real, collapsing in the market.
We are nose to nose, on the hunt for what works.
Copin’ for me is in my hope. The only way that I can hold scale is by being in family.
The scale works me in my frail, my shaking tail.
I so want to be there, to get as close as I can.
Not waiting. No gating. Beyond dating. The journey of my soul awakens.
I sound like I don’t know what I am doing, but I do know.
I find my way in the immediately infront, the next simple elegant step.
I’m seeking clarity of direction. Detection of that direction.
Shape and motion in this collection to direction.
Looking at this land, my partner and I, but we are letting come.
Awaken to oneness.
Work with friends.
Work with simplicity.
These are the tools I know that help me navigate
My practice in the day to day, this way to that way.
I’m in my physical parallel breakdown.
Systemic crisis is teaching me what my life is.
Learning that I’m not less than. We are not less than.
In right relation in this station.
I’m so hungry for home. Building beyond this roam.
Integrity, feeling on my edge.
This phase in these days.
Takin’ it in like a sponge and needing my time.
Back in the day, we practiced river time.
Without watches, setting up camp,
watching the stars, seeing my clarity in tending my gear.
I’m often wrong, but never in doubt.
I’m not buying my own bullshit.
This phase is groundless and very confusing.
What is this crap? Grow some food!
There is no release as I spiral in.
Language separates. Sound anchors. Songs. Sounds. Rounds.
Meetin’ in vibration we find our unity in our community.
The ground I’ve found, but the compass of figuring it out isn’t working.
I can feel the gazillions of answers – we remember more in our silence.
I got through labor with low vocalization.
Moo with me. You too, with me.
We are holding you as you move to the rim and get your baby home.
I’ve been to that rim.
My center is in our house. Our home. Our basic home.
Nursing and getting people to bed.
Steppin with my grandfather to the places he couldn’t dream of going.
Travelling across these times, feeling the birth of possibility,
Bringing that baby home too.
It just comes naturally – the mooing. The moaning through the groaning.
I’ve been bailing out my ship, spinning through conversations with friends.
Talking about our stuff on the couch.
I’m trying to be with my mad, unaware of our own neighborhoods.
What if I lose the anger? There are hearts achin’ and breakin’
As I remember what it means to be together.
Speedin’ in this boat, afloat in the choppy waters.
I’m trying to slow down but feeling my heavy foot on the accelerator.
Sleep walking in the consumerist pattern.
Evicted from our garden, from our growing.
I’m opening dialogues, other gardens with conversations about Zim dollars.
Speaking from Greece, we eleven women
Cried our way into arriving, grieving our thriving.
Wearing masks as we show more of our selves in the world.
I knew we just needed to feed these women.
Making bread, up late at night, watching the grief clear.
I need to be clear.
Standing in my places with many faces.
Stil in the world. Being still, still in the world.
Wanting to know my place – it might just be a fantasy.
The dark in the coal mine teaches me to be where I am.
My perspective shifted ten years ago; I turned in to myself.
Taught by my hacking, again,
as I’m being navigated to the sweet spots of deep spiritual outside of all this stuff.
Boldly just be. Boldly just be.
What I need shows up in abundance as I take my jewelry off, just bein’ here.
Doin’ a lot of good deeply in some place.
The first time on that 26 footer in the Gulf of Mexico,
I learned about shielding myself to the sun.
Back up the Houston ship channel,
making our way amidst huge oil tankers in the mid of night.
I was completely aware of the fleet, the sail, and the harmony. Attentive.
Thank you Wendell – “Willing to die, you give up your will. Keep still until moved by that which moves all, you are moved.”
Take in all that I can.
Tell the truth. We don’t have time not to.