Crystalline water melting under temperatures of sunlit rocks, cascading down the mountain ridges. Crevasses deep enough to remind you of the internal void of the infinite. The void of creation. The unknown. Yet somehow the water always finds its smoothest course, drifting down rock faces carved by millions of years of shifting. Levels rising and falling with the continuous plummet of melting into the waxing of a winter moon. We have no control over the waters course. All we can do is watch. Just as the trees stood next to this bouldering creek over thousands of transformative winters.

Theres always this moment in between the changing of the seasons, where the air sweeps a bit more swiftly bringing chills through the bones, where the leaves have fallen to the Earth and all that resides are the strong conifers of the lively forest. I live in the in between. A spring afternoon and a fall crisp morning. Twilight and predawn. Turquoise and purple. Dreams and reality. The in between is a refuge we all know to be true, that what happens in the in between is not permanent but ever changing. Theres something about the way change makes the Earth come alive. When the in between is dancing before our eyes.

Indigenous Mourning Day. Today I choose to keep on my path of remembrance. Of those who fell before us. And those who continue to fall in this society under the declaration of independence. This week signifies the historical impact of European colonization & settlement. This week signifies the separatism within our sovereign state. This week signifies the fall of our native indigenous peoples.

But I choose to not shame you for living in tradition of your forefathers, I just choose to respect and honor mine.

Honor the strong warriors who rode across plains and mountains to preserve the tradition of the sacred.

Honor the women and children who were caught in the cross fire of greed and destruction, fear and anger.

I choose to walk a path of remembrance on this day to show that the spirit of indigenous lives strong within the children who have survived.

That we are paving the way for ancestral healing and decolonizing our own lives.

You sit and give thanks to your God under a roof with heat and an abundant meal tonight, I ask that you return some to the land. Return the food that feeds you back to the soil. And give thanks that you are not living in suffering. The reality that a lot of Native Americans still face today.

Today we are still in a war for freedom. We got sex trafficking, violent crimes on people of color, vaccination mandates, oil and crude spilling into the environment, cancer rates sky rocketing and our food & water has been contaminated. The war is over you. And your freedom just as much as it is over the enslavement of indigenous races.

I dont ask that you split away from your traditions but I do ask that you acknowledge the truth behind your meal tonight. That you send forgiveness to those that do wrong and those who have been wronged. I ask that you educate yourself on the matter of the colonization of America. And I ask that you remember those who stood before you.

Not in fear or indifference but as a people, as a spirit, as a child of creator.

I ask that we honor our privilege in new ways by sharing and giving back to our communities.

I ask that we teach our children the truth. #indigenous #noDAPL

To all my fellow women who have kept their beauty hidden in dormant volcanoes, lost at sea, or deep in a hibernating cave for winter. To all my women who are tired of conforming to the shackles of doubt, the razor blades of insecurity and the corset of untold words squeezing through the seams. My women you are the marvel of this world. The intermittent beat of Earths rotation around the sun. Your shapes and colors creating geometric marvels waiting for you to shapeshift into wholeness, connection, being. To all my women who choked on the words of unworthy and cried at the reflection in the mirror. To all my women who shame another because the fight with the self is a battle you’ve known your whole life. My women you are made of sand and fire. Water and dust. Electricity and patience. We’ve waited generations to walk in freedom, to love ourselves holy. The moon positions to amplify our cosmic existence, penetrating us in the light of a dark night of the soul. Germinating seeds under the soil, we are the wisdom keepers and the birthers. Creating roots of growth with every observation and simple statement of no. To all my women craving the freedom to exist in totality of your worth. Your time has come.

Kiss me under falling waters, under palm tree skies. Kiss me in the rain, kiss me on a new moon night. Your arms give me the same feeling of a warm summers day, when dragonflies swirl in the sky and fruit trees ripen with delight. Tenderly holding onto the creation of the divine feminine, letting her be whole in the mana of Earthen affection.

Taking my time or is time taking me, the fragmented visions I choose to see keep leading me back to spaces that hold sacred sanctuary. Choosing to be lost in the direction of the heart leads my feet in the directions of the wind. No more false conditioning or intrusive behavior, the leaves are falling back, introspection our teacher. Feelings of oneness, feelings of being. The waves are turning the rocks we tied to the feet of our souls purpose. Tumbling, amidst sand coral, rocks and bones. The water shows us our one true home. Return to the breath of the Earth, with each step you roam. Our waters are sacred, a living being of it’s own. Mni Wiconi for my ancestors of the soul, water is life for those who have yet to know. Our life is sacred, our breath a gift too. Speak with intention, let the heart carry you, to the unknown spaces you have yet to return to. Your soul is only fragmented so you can find what carries you.

My cells are over flowing with upgrades and transmissions, body tingling with the cognizant reclamation of spirit, human senses stimulated into sensual response mechanisms. My heart beats with the spirit of this land the aina, the Mother, the nurturer, the backbone and roots. Her story speaking into the channels of my heart. So I let the rivers of consciousness flow through her rough edges. Continuously held in the arms of Great Spirit. My breath flows with remembrance of the wind, ever flowing, ever changing, motion. Creating a space of stillness in the untamed forest I have yet to navigate in my virtual field. The leaves of my past and ancestral twines begin to fall in the winds of change. Mother Earth knows this process all too well, the cycle of life and death. Becoming and unbecoming. These cycles keep propelling me to keep walking the path because in the distance is a dream land that will come to exist in this lifetime. A land of abundance and grace. Truth and purpose. Love and gratitude. Respect and justice. My body returns to the earth when my spirit leaves. So I will do everything in this walking life to reclaim the natural order to our Mother Earth. Our home.

There’s a part of me hiding under the fallen leaves, my roots entangled to the earth but the curiosity of change sends thrills thru my fruiting body. This is the land of our Mother, unfamiliar, yet a gentle remembrance of what it is to be free and interconnected to the divine. A breeze drifts through the cedar wood and maples, sending vibrancy to the forest floor. Nutrition that will stabilize my growth once filled with the vigor of life now crisping to it’s own bittersweet death, a returning inward. I grapple with the snails and slugs as they feast from my caps. Remembering that everyone deserves to eat, I keep fruiting from the mycelium beneath the feet of man. They try to take, to cut, to treat, to destroy the nature of my natural order. What they do not know is that I am intertwined with the ancients of our forest. Sending signals of warning thru the ground they walk on. Grow, bloom, breathe, be free, before they try to take it away from you. Return to your roots when the cold air returns and preserve the lessons you have learned.

The thought of running into no man’s land sweeps through my brain, fierce winds begin to replay the symphony of creation that flows through my veins. I am from a different time, before man came to take, a day when animals and humans could live simultaneously and honor each others faith. We all have a duty, a divine simple way, coursing through our blood and navigating our fate. Walking among the earth we remember our natural state, living in freedom and returning to the earth more than you take. Planting seeds of compassion with each breath my body makes synthesizing with the oxygen our trees produce to bring us back to the present moment of running into the unknown realm of the forests wake.

I met my shadow at the end of the hall. BlackBerry bushes entangled around my legs causing me to fall. The land began to reclaim what man took from her. So I return once more to look for the parts of me that were burned & buried alive a true martyr. My ancestors weaving stories through these bones. The chattering of a cold winds blow through my vessel sends me into the next room, hoping for a bit of relief from what seems like doom. I am a walking story for those to read the pages of their own book that was thrown into the sea. My shadow a reflection of what man must see, in order to overcome this tumultuous journey. We are awakening to the truth they distracted us from, so when I align with my shadow they see they have not won. For embracing the parts of myself that are hard to accept, makes me stronger than the souls that are indebted, to the practices of darkness evil and decept.

This dual nature ; creation and death. Man and Earth. Dark and light. Has been polarized upon this Earth for generations. We see ourselves in different facets and too know that with the changing of the seasons comes rapid transformation. Like birth, death can bring many emotions and memories. So we honor the relationship of the sacred here and now to revitalize our connection with the Spirit of the land. Knowing that Great Spirit lives in the present Grant’s us access into the threshold for life and death to be fabricated into a minor dream. A dream state that asks us to return home to the Spirit. Whether on land or in the land of Great creator we see polarization overtake our lives. So now the Thunder Beings ask us to serve duality with justice and penetrate the veil of illusion so we may come to know peace in transformation. So we may come to know that destruction too will bring creation. It is the consequences of our own internal fire that show us the dual force of nature. When we show up in integrity we honor the present with an interconnection to the divine and sacred.