http://west.fm/index.php/site/writing/ en west@west.fm Copyright 2009 2009-12-07T20:42:53+00:00 http://west.fm/index.php/site/what_it_means_to_be_wet/ http://west.fm/index.php/site/what_it_means_to_be_wet/#When:20:42:53Z For years now I’ve stood along the edge of this river. The shallow water shifting over pebbles and sand, playing games with driftwood and fallen leaves. Watching, wading, here I’ve learned part of Her story. But sometimes - when no one is looking - I’ll lay down and pretend that this is what it means to be wet. As I lay here, submerged, I hear Her whisper from further out. Her long, cold fingers invite me to deeper waters, yet I still hold to roots and branches along the shoreline. I have sometimes believed it to be enough - this hesitant immersion - though, in truth, I cannot call it surrender. Her wells run deeper than my willingness in wading has ever shown. Today, instead of clinging to the rocks, I’m letting go. Look for me in the ocean - I’ll be learning to swim. West Latta - 2009 Poetry 2009-12-07T20:42:53+00:00 http://west.fm/index.php/site/the_poet_as_husband/ http://west.fm/index.php/site/the_poet_as_husband/#When:17:53:32Z I write in a small shadowed corner in order to bear light into the world, though the light is not my own. My darkness is no darkness to you and nothing you should wish upon yourself, but my light shall also be your light, in which we shall see differently but gloriously. I am not lame inside me, no matter that I drag my foot, I have run here through all my infirmities to bring you news of a battle already won. Let my last breath speak victory into the world. The race is run and shall be run again, joyfully, and you shall run with me, the territory opened to us like returned laughter or remembered childhood. Remember, I was here, and you were here, and together we made a world. ~ David Whyte ~ Poetry 2009-12-03T17:53:32+00:00 http://west.fm/index.php/site/i_signed_up_for_this/ http://west.fm/index.php/site/i_signed_up_for_this/#When:23:14:25Z Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members. The virtue in most request is conformity. Self-reliance is its aversion. It loves not realities and creators, but names and customs. ~ Emerson I was saddened to hear of the recent illness and deaths that occurred at a spiritual retreat center in Arizona. I'll spare the details (a web search will provide more accounts and opinions than you'll care to read), but the basic recap is this: A group of people were attending a personal development workshop in Arizona. At one point during the workshop, they were all engaged in a sweat lodge ceremony (I'm uncertain of the particular methodology, or if it was modeled after any particular Native tradition). During the ceremony, many participants fell ill, and two died. On the rational level, clearly something went very, very wrong in that ceremony. Having participated in numerous sweat lodge ceremonies, numerous personal development workshops, and, on more than one occasion, events which posed a direct threat to my physical and emotional well being, I expect a much higher level of integrity from the organizers. Warrior Sage practices a level of 'impeccability' that comprehensively covers the way staff and volunteers act with one another, the way they interact with participants, the way participants act with participants - every single detail is covered and addressed. Satyen spent many, many years training with Shaolin masters, so as you might expect, his attention to detail is very high. Most importantly, however is this simple covenant by which we agree to work together: that each of us is 100% responsible for ourselves AND 100% responsible for the safety and growth for everyone around us. This philosophy is at odds with the 'rugged individualist' approach to life that we so love here in the West. This communal responsibility approach sings the counterpoint to "pull yourself up by the bootstraps!" No - pull each other up, and thereby you'll find you're all standing on ground more firm and resilient than any you could till of your own accord. Even so - the participants for such events, while often zealous and occasionally naieve, are rarely (if ever) unaware of the potential dangers. And in every case I've ever seen, the answer to one question provides all the detail you need to make a fair assessment of the outcome: "Yes, I signed up for this." Journal 2009-10-12T23:14:25+00:00 http://west.fm/index.php/site/for_a_new_beginning/ http://west.fm/index.php/site/for_a_new_beginning/#When:20:02:36Z In out-of-the-way places of the heart, Where your thoughts never think to wander, This beginning has been quietly forming, Waiting until you were ready to emerge. For a long time it has watched your desire, Feeling the emptiness growing inside you, Noticing how you willed yourself on, Still unable to leave what you had outgrown.. It watched you play with the seduction of safety And the gray promises that sameness whispered, Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent, Wondered would you always live like this.. Then the delight, when your courage kindled, And out you stepped onto new ground, Your eyes young again with energy and dream, A path of plenitude opening before you.. Though your destination is not yet clear You can trust the promise of this opening; Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning That is at one with your life’s desire.. Awaken your spirit to adventure; Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk; Soon you will be home in a new rhythm, For your soul senses the world that awaits you.. ~ John O’Donohue ~ Poetry 2009-09-10T20:02:36+00:00 http://west.fm/index.php/site/in_the_service_of_the_queen/ http://west.fm/index.php/site/in_the_service_of_the_queen/#When:18:09:54Z One doesn’t suddenly wake up one day and ‘decide’ to become a Shaman. The journey of the poet-seer, the wandering mystic, or the healer is a continuum which ultimately has no beginning or end, but is wholly sourced from the inner and outer world, the sacred and the profane, the spiritual and the sensual. Even so, the ‘awakening’ of the Shaman, the Awakening of the Warrior Sage is a singular experience. As my spiritual journey has deepened, dramatically, over the past three years, I have had several such awakenings - moments of pristine clarity of the Truth of my existence, my purpose, and the omnipresence of Love in its many forms and expressions on this plane and others. However, none of these awakenings have been so profoundly humbling as the journey I took recently with the Mother of all plant teachers: Ayahuasca. What follows, below, is an account of my initiation, my journey with the Great Mother. Journal, Lore 2009-07-16T18:09:54+00:00 http://west.fm/index.php/site/beltane_2009/ http://west.fm/index.php/site/beltane_2009/#When:19:30:36Z Flickr image by mikescottnz This year’s Beltane celebration was an important one for me, as it marked the official, outward, community acknowledgement of the invitation of the Mabon, the divine child, into our lives. My wife and I have invited a new One into our family, and though we haven’t yet received an RSVP, we are both feeling deeply connected and ready to welcome this new incarnation into the world. As my journey into Fatherhood begins, Beltane offers me a time to reflect and meditation especially on the Masculine aspects of this Rite. One of my first and most profound connections with Celtic tradition was with an image of Cernunnos, who is often called the Lord of the Hunt and God of Fertility. This image struck me deeply, as I felt that I was one whose wild and green masculinity had been suppressed for many years. The image of Cernunnos was an invitation to move beyond my own fears and lethargy, to move beyond the comfort I had found in city life, into a more active spirituality that was deeply rooted in Nature, the Wild, and the Green aspects of life on Earth. Journal 2009-05-03T19:30:36+00:00 http://west.fm/index.php/site/earth_day_2009_pale_blue_dot/ http://west.fm/index.php/site/earth_day_2009_pale_blue_dot/#When:15:57:10Z In honor of Earth Day 2009, an excerpt from the exceptional book “Pale Blue Dot” by the late astronomer and humanitarian, Carl Sagan. I only learned recently that Dr. Sagan passed into the Otherworld (though he certainly never would have called it that) right here in Seattle, at the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center. Here’s to our Beloved Blue Dot! We succeeded in taking that picture [from deep space], and, if you look at it, you see a dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever lived, lived out their lives. The aggregate of all our joys and sufferings, thousands of confident religions, ideologies and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilizations, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every hopeful child, every mother and father, every inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every superstar, every supreme leader, every saint and sinner in the history of our species, lived there on a mote of dust, suspended in a sunbeam. The earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that in glory and in triumph they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of the dot on scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner of the dot. How frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity—in all this vastness—there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. It is up to us. It’s been said that astronomy is a humbling, and I might add, a character-building experience. To my mind, there is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly and compassionately with one another and to preserve and cherish that pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known. Journal 2009-04-22T15:57:10+00:00 http://west.fm/index.php/site/seven_times_under/ http://west.fm/index.php/site/seven_times_under/#When:13:20:09Z Image by Dick Verton Last summer I was blessed to be able to attend a Poetry 2009-03-16T13:20:09+00:00 http://west.fm/index.php/site/the_goose_and_the_druid/ http://west.fm/index.php/site/the_goose_and_the_druid/#When:21:08:02Z Crossposted from the website of Philip Carr-Gomm, Chosen Chief of the Order of Bards, Ovates, and Druids. Journal 2009-03-11T21:08:02+00:00 http://west.fm/index.php/site/imbolc_2009_-_untitled_poem_for_brighid/ http://west.fm/index.php/site/imbolc_2009_-_untitled_poem_for_brighid/#When:05:08:57Z Brighid, Exalted One, Mother Three, Fiery arrow, Reborn of of the Old One Bringer of new life Builder of fortunes Inspiration of divine word and song. Liminal one, Born in between, Forever upon the threshold of death and birth Bringer of the flame of creativity of rebirth of craft, I offer myself. To the Mother Of all things You who nurture Who offer healing To all beings You who offer blessing and protection On my home and hearth I am your beloved son. To the Smith Forge of the new Through metal, fire, air, water Your gifts shape this world Through your craft You give to me Abundance beyond measure. I am the builder of your fortunes. To the Matron of Bards You who inspire Divine muse Whose voice rises up through me Weaver of words Cauldron of lore Voice of the three enchantments Joy, Sleep and Sadness, I am forever the singer of your songs. Lore, Poetry 2009-02-05T05:08:57+00:00