AS THE SKY DISAPPEARS

The night was curling up towards the city like a cloud. I could see the electrical lights coming on and even a bank, even a store, even a bus could and did begin to appear as magical. Some old lady sat atop a parapet and drank what looked like a coffee and there was an old man walking thru a lot with a cane and what looked like a take-out box of food. She lifted her cup slowly and he moved slowly also. Maybe they were not taking it easy by choice, but by age, time having done its own number on them both. Yet,- the frayed sweater or faded cane were beautiful, soulful, and I wished for a second, for a long second, to be on an actual old street in an older time with bigger cars and brick houses waiting as mature trees watched it all on boulevards. In any event, the sky was pink in the distance and the vehicles, sometimes trucks, would come along up a hill and appear and then just as quickly disappear down the other way. Where do all the people go and why does nobody seem to really talk to anyone else? Yet, - the night is a good and solid friend. It arrives always and has never failed. It’s not fickle or judgemental. In fact, the night is such a good friend that it is sometimes taken for granted. And soon the remnants that are left of the day sky, - well, - it mixes inwards somehow with itself, - in a last minute silent panic, - and then disappears. Where did it go? Where does the sky, pink and a bit of purple, in the latest possible stretch of dusk, - disappear to? Does it hide in a rooftop or the hole of the top of an industrial building abandoned? - With an old squirrel? With a series of racoons? With some feral felines? - And does the sky dream? If so, - does it discern the difference between dreams and visions, - and can in interpret and intuit spirit messages? Oh sky oh sky I wonder wonder why?- Well, the night was curling up towards the city like a cloud and the cloud disappeared and we watched it all in the early winter way of the growing city that housed us and lights and the parapets for the aged or tired or simply pensive.

 

-----------------------------

FOREST

It wasn’t exactly glum there but yes, a bit so. It had not snowed in days, and there was not rain either. What it was, was that the sky, well, it was covered by clouds and the clouds, opaque as such things tend to be, were just staying around forever. It must have been five days long and was continuing. Shouldn’t it snow by then, by now by some time? How I longed to see the real snow fall, when there is a darkness in the distance in the middle of the day for the storm that is approaching, and then it comes and is sprinkled everywhere like a song that is ubiquitous and continuous. The pictures I could get! - If even for me or a few other souls, a few sympathetic eyes or ears as it were. The snow as I remember it sits on every branch and can be undisturbed, well- leaving some of it there even if the wind comes. There are parts of that place so pristine, so untouched on a daily basis anyhow. Like a kid waiting for a vacation, I can’t wait, - because there has been a re-direction, a new configuration, a re-assembly of the soul- and I can see the magic, the dare I say, and not lightly, - the divinity in the everyday. Mostly there, mostly there. For now there were a few

hawks that I saw watching and we took a strange downwards and meandering way that led first to a little bridge with moss and some parts repaired. The water could be heard, but slightly and lowly in volume, - but heard, trickling either down from somewhere or to somewhere again. There, the trees and their branches made strange shapes like they were ghosts caught still in the day, remaining frozen to fool you or me,- the intrusive walker. I half-expected one to come alive, to begin talking, but such things really are only found in fairytales. Yet, - didn’t they say their own thing in their own peculiar way? I am not talking about divination, pendulums, rocks, and the rest, - though those things have their place. Here what is being mentioned is that the trees talk the way the whole earth communicates. And there talk was that they were middle age, quiet, had seen some things, and could see much at night. What is the night like there, by the little bridge and the surrounding area? Everyone has surely gone home, and the thick darkness kisses everything at once. I can see the trees though, even through the thick darkness, in my mind’s eye? Why? Because of the moonlight, - a moonlight that appears briefly during a break in the clouds. The trees are intricate and scattered to begin with, but in that play of light there mystery is pronounced, vivid, and poem-like. In any event, - it is not bad there, not exactly glum like I said, as the snow is waited for and counted on. After a while, we shall probably be sick of it, no? - That is the way of things. But,- first we shall be enthralled and perhaps as we negotiate a hill or descend down a valley path a fox or deer will run just down or up the way, having be stirred by our presence or else just on its way anyhow through the snow laden forest ways.

-----------------------------------------------------

WHERE THE FOREST OPENS UP TO THE FIELD OR THE LEAVENED LEAVES WAIT AFTER THE DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL

If you go along the forest path and follow it long enough it meanders here and there and throws gently itself off to that way or this. But if somehow you continue and find the way, it curves and the long curve near the end is a strange one. It can be likened to the dark night of the soul in that on that curve, the first time anyhow, one does not know where one is. The bush is thick, the sky is covered by the trees, the sun has disappeared for the summits that hide it then.

Most all or all bearings and anchors have been lost.

But…

Somehow if you continue on past there a long natural corridor presents itself and like a tunnel of light in the forest, or a new-re-entry into reality, - it feeds you out into a larger field. The field opens up immediately on both sides and whether it is spring, summer, autumn, or winter; - there is a high and clean energy. This can be noticed by nearly anyone. 

And then what?

Then you have made it through a certain trial and tumult, and walk by the old solitary tree, the sandpit where an old and almost friendly snake that can be likened to the kundalini energy, slithers around in the background. The chaparral and the feral birds of the sky, the odd turtle, and the hesitant then fast deer or grouping of hawks in the distance. Sometimes the wildflowers there have multiplied exponentially like blades of grass under the sun. At other times leaves bounce past for the wind, as if in a dance and it seems against all reason and logic that they are there for you.

And the funny thing is that they are.

--------------------------------

THE WONDERFUL WELL WROUGHT LIGHTS THAT LIVE ALSO IN PERFECT CHAOS

The entire city bustles (well some sleep I suppose), and the cars and trucks go past. The tracks are quiet, yes, but the busses with their airbrakes. A million years or more ago I sat in the back of old Chevrolets and was driven. I stared out the windows at the lights of the city and felt an immense bliss mixed with terror for this was existence and existence was intense! It was easy and hard. Easy because I had it made back there literally and metaphorically. Nobody to bother me as I stared out and out at the infinite city lights. Hard because I had just arrived a few years previously on the earth,- not an alien, not an ascended master, just a person- but just arrived nonetheless- and…I had to wear those itchy and too tight long johns. Well, fast-forward and I can see new lights,- they are by a Tai or some other such like restaurant- on little trees,- and they keep the lights up a long time. I snuck down there and caught a few pictures. The world can be marvelous, just wonderful in the Canadian night of lights and cold and wind and the street with its traffic and the little walkway. We never went to that restaurant and there was and is nothing keeping us from it. We should go there!- but you get into grooves and even when you go somewhere you go somewhere else. We should make a point of going there- and what would be inside,- would there be soft lights and kind people and interesting dishes with soul and spices? Who and what would meet us? Its hard to know. Well, the lights, they make for a universe,- there in the cold,- and I imagine each one, green, red, blue, white, yellow?- a peculiar and interesting place with little people living inside and above. Each one is a world. I should name them, but that could be the job of another soul. Ya- the entire city bustles and I think if I had a choice I would like to dream a dream of living in and amongst the world of colored lights.

------------------------------------------------------

THE FOREST WITCHES AND THEIR WHITE MAGIC

I was going over Macbeth for someone the night before. Thinking about the witches and how bad they were. Then in the morning I walked a forest path. I don’t talk much about the synchronicities because they are too numerous and large. In effect, most people would not believe them. I certainly would not. I would say, This guy or gal is putting you on. But ‘tis true what I say. This is but one. I was walking and it was early and I had the impulse to say in my head God God God God God God God God God God God. And then I ran into the two. I scooped down to kind of gather the dogs that had seen them and were curious. We exchanged a few words. Prosaic, everyday words. They did not tell me I was going to be King or that no man borne of woman could harm me. I gathered myself and my friends and wished them a good day, but just as I was standing upright, about half-way up, - I glanced to the white witches and saw that one of them was holding a dangling clear rosary. The crucifix swayed somewhat under the beads, under the decades, and the sun, still to the East and rising, shone beautifully upon her prayer beads. I knew psychically right away that she had them for protection and help, though I don’t know exactly what they were up to. Then I thought, Oh, - that is a good, no, that is better than good, - that is what I would call a great sign. If thought about, I am in the middle of nowhere and chanting God and through human means yes, - but through the universe a crucifix appears and with the sun shining all round it. You would have to be spiritually dead or of the highest skeptical order to not see it. Then we continued on and I began my mantra/japa once more as I entered upon the summit of the deep valley wall. God God God God God…

----------------------------------------------