Tea With Me: 2nd October, 2022 Sunday
So Dreamkite flew really low late this morning. I am in some house with dogs and Youngest. We are in a kitchen dining like room of this house. She at one table and I am at another. We are puzzling some fix for little gadgets we each have one of the same which requires applying new labels. Her batch of new labels adhere perfectly but mine are soggy for some reason and I cannot get them to stick. On a side board is a package, FEDEX I think, for me in which they are some sort of medicinals. There are many dogs, mostly small in this room milling at my feet as I move around.
And Cara. Yes, Cara is there on a sofa, curled as she was want to be. So clear and happy to have me come and pet her lovely head. She tilts her nose straight up at me and her adoring gaze drinks my love as I stroke her sleek head. She smiles and I can smell her breath.
Then I am off to bed. Which was quite interesting.
The house spanned a chasm, home to steep chasm. Several bridges soan the chasm from the living floors to the bedrooms and mine was furthest up the chasm. These bridges for some reason had been somewhat trashed since I had last been here. And in the dark I realise the planking has been torn and is barely there. There is a rounded form curled on some platform further on. Its Cara. Curled in the dark on a rock and the planking on the bridge is going. She leaps up onto where Im swaying on the disolving planks and launches off the side. Down she dives, way down into a waiting dark pool.
She is gone and in my mind I know there are on the other side, rock stairs, silted up but there leading to the rock she perched on waiting for me, lost, swaying on what was left of a swaying bridge. And it is no longer dark.
She came to show me the hidden path to rest.
She is never very far.
So been watching Ian’s work. I lived in Forida, South for Eldest’s birth and Central for Youngest’s. The yearly terror of Africa’s toss of swirling anger was my sport of choice to view. And view I did. You see, for most of Florida, there is one road in and one road out. So when the sky bombs are brewing, you watch and judge to see if the next one just might aim for you and what its blast might be on that ladder of mph they now can measure for. Because if you leave in your car with dogs and kids you may well be on the road stuck with all those suckers who bought FLA Paradise and now are fleeing what has always been a part of life down there.
But I have migrated. To CA, to WA, to OR, and now to NM. Weather is now fall. Hurricanes do not happen here. Not so far.
Its 52f this am. Eldest and SIL married 6 years ago yesterday. I celebrate them every day, those two. They make eachother finer. They forge the best in them.
6 years ago my World was very very different. Trump happened. My Mama passed. And a swirl of things unleashed and raged inside me. Ripped out some moorings, tore the roof off, and I went on, picked through the wreckage and for a time wished to roll it all back to what it was. But you all know how that goes.
So I let go a lot. Always moving forward. Keep on moving on. As long as I can. And all that was comes too. I am just that much more.
So Santa Fe seems the place to come to still. It has been for me. And for many others. There is something in the Light here and something in the Earth for those of us who can feel it.
This time of year as the Light curls back its visit to the days, its angles shift. Its final beacon flames the rim of World I see at end of day. And then its gone.
Tea was Green.
Ta.
Tea With Me 