Photo Credit: Sara Wright
(4/10/13 – 1/22/16)
What do I mean by the words Spirit Animal? Indigenous peoples take it for granted that each animal has an Elder Spirit who watches over that particular species. Most of the time this Elder Spirit stays in the other world as a discarnate being. But there are exceptions and sometimes these Spirit Animals cross over to our world. Some come as teachers, some come to warn of impending danger, some give their lives so other can live, some come to bless a child or to act as a protector, healer or personal guide, all embody Grace and love with a capital “L.”
Per Wikipedia, Datura “was known as an essential ingredient of potions and witches’ brews.” The word witch was first coined by the King James version of the Bible, which appeared in the 1600’s. A women’s holocaust occurred in Europe and the United States (Salem, Massachusetts, Abiquiu, New Mexico) in the 16th and 17th centuries when thousands, perhaps a few million rural women of all ages were burned as witches. In a nutshell, women have been healers since ancient times. When men became “doctors” they took over the role of healer from women, and conveniently dispensed with the latter by burning them alive.
There she is in flight,
a shooting star on fire.
There she spirals eyeless
her blue wind births chaos.
There she moans bitterly
churning up dark waters.
There she plows fiercely
heaving up mountains. Continue reading
Guadalupe by Armando – Adrian Lopez. Photo by Sara Wright. For more about the artist, see www. armandolopez.com.
Lupita, Guadalupe –
Your agave points of light glow in grave darkness.
Hecate’s Moon is Red.
The Raven slices the sky into shards.
The River catches shivering stars.
We remember the First Mother… Continue reading
Election Dream: November 9th
Just an image: I see bleached, broken, slashed, and severed tree roots scattered over the entire horizon – which seem to stretch out in front of me in all directions – the ground, as far as I can see, has become a wasteland.
Photo by Sara Wright
I took this photograph during the last full moon (12/24/2015), the “Earth’s Renewal Moon” according to the Blackfoot Nation. This moon belongs to Waboose, the Spirit Keeper of the North and it is considered to be the first moon of the New Year; it can occur anytime during the period that extends from December 22nd until January 19th.
Wreath, © 2015, Sara Wright
Each December I feel as if I am participating in an ancient rite when I tip the aromatic branches of our native balsam tree to bag and bring home to make a wreath.
Each year as I cut the twigs I ask to be forgiven if this act hurts the tree.
Each year standing in front of the balsam I give thanks for all trees, but especially for this one because of her fragrance…
Read all posts by Sara Wright.
Sara is a Jungian therapist, a naturalist, ethologist, ritual artist, animist, and a writer who lives in the western mountains of Maine and writes about animals and plants in Nature, and the relationship between Nature and herself. She has Native American Roots.
I am a naturalist and a writer; I live in a little log cabin in the woods by a brook with two small dogs and two doves. I write stories about the animals and plants that live here on my property in the western mountains of Maine and publish them regularly in my nature column in the local paper. I am also an independent black bear researcher who uses “trust based” research to study the bears that have visited me here. Trust based research/fieldwork allows me to apprentice myself to Nature through any of its individuals if they are willing. I am the student; each species is the teacher. I have Native American roots, which may or may not be why I have dedicated my life to speaking out on behalf of the slaughtered trees, dying plants and disappearing animals. This is the only work that matters to me.
“Over the Edge and Beyond: Journal of a Naturalist”
I think it’s very important to support the creative works of other women in a feminist context. I also think that it’s important to comment on what others have written to help them to feel seen and heard. We feminists must work harder than others to be acknowledged and MAGO has been a beacon in the night for those of us who continue to choose this life -path.
Credit: Crocus Sativus by KENPEI’s Photo public domain
This winter has been so mild that I feel that I am already perched on the edge of the next season. The brook has never been completely frozen and all through the winter I have had the pleasure of listening to flowing waters whenever I am snow shoeing or walking around my property. The birds and other animals can easily bathe (yes birds do bathe even in the winter if the temperatures are mild). Around the foundation of the house and next to my rock garden the sun melts the snow quickly and bare ground keeps appearing after every storm. Every time I am outdoors my eyes seem to seek out these spots to see if I can glimpse a blade of green. These are the first places that I usually look for crocuses in April, but this year I am already longing to see them!
Photo by Sara Wright
The following day I went to see where Ghost Ranch was located, the first place that Georgia lived (and bought), where she painted many of her landscapes. I was not prepared for the astonishing depth and breadth and the visionary quality of the seemingly endless beauty that surrounded me. Ghost Ranch blended so well with the scenery that I could barely see the whole tucked into the base of one of the cliffs. I spent four hours staring at the austere mountains that changed color every second as clouds passed by and shadows fell in new places highlighting red, ocher, lavender, even deep purple and green until the night closed in. The landscape around Georgia’s “home-place” was so astounding that after my initial experience and attempt to describe it, I decided that O’Keeffe’s mountains must remain as stark impressions in my mind:
Rams Head by Georgia Okeeffe
As some of us know, while making a pilgrimage, time stretches out like a rubber band, and once the threshold has been crossed one is catapulted into sacred space where the present becomes all there is. That first morning in Abiquiu I awakened at dawn and ran out into the surrounding desert in my nightgown! I was in love with this place, and possessed by joy. The dusty gray sage laden hills were round, peppered with sea green spiked pinion pine, fragrant Juniper and mountain cedar. These beautiful small trees provided a stunning contrast in shape and color to the dusty red Earth.
Rams Head by Georgia Okeeffe
What do I mean by the word kinship? I believe that kinship is the idea, and the belief that all aspects of nature from photons to galaxies are connected to one another. Practically, I think of kinship as my feeling/sense of being intimately linked to place/landscape. In my mind Kinship and Place are not only related, each is shaped by the other.