Tuesday, March 28, 2006

A High Desert Memory

written for my father,
who finally closed his land-survey business
at the age of 85.


You don't really know the land until you have walked -
out, out from a spot known and perhaps so secure
that the shimmer of the horizon is bounded more
by memory than hope that history will renew.

You may work the land and feel a bond with stony sand
that may poorly yield up a life of scraggly youth
and early withered face that cracks when it smiles.
The land may even work you - but do not know it.

Yet, I would not trade this barren land for heaven.
While others disdain a three hundred mile stretch
of solitude and fear of empty tank or sudden flat,
I drift with the every changing colored stones of peace.

Give me the range of stars that blind the chilling night.
Find me the rusted pan or weathered child's shoe,
or fine chiseled point or broken iron plow,
beaten by humble hand in the V & T forge.

Show me a thousand buds drawn from new spring rain.
Surround me with hand hewn posts and old bob'd wire
that protect a sweat water well 'neath winter cress,
that mix with tiny elderberry safe beyond the fire.

Miners walked this land before and suffering 'fornia bound.
Others will come and see my footprints here in moonlight
and wonder at the measured stride of destiny,
that gathers this simple land unto my very soul.

Sunday, March 26, 2006

New Idea - Hermitage Publications Trading Room

Pre-Loved Treasures Trading Room
For details see:


- click on the above link to go there.

Most of you are already members of this blog,
but if you would like an invitation, let me or Heather know,
Imogen Crest - Hermit

Gift of Solitude

Image Hosting by PictureTrail.com
A 'view' of Owl Island
Actually taken near the Antarctic

We all need time alone. Even those of us who are social butterflies need some time to ourselves. Solitude is necessary for meditation and quiet reflection. We also may choose to isolate ourselves when we are busy and need to meet a deadline. We may cherish time alone when we want to give ourselves over to art or music, lose ourselves in a good book, or delve into a personal project. Having time to ourselves allows us to focus completely on our yoga practice or get into the zone while running or strength training. Sometimes we need to be alone to simply do nothing but enjoy the sound of silence. Our alone time revitalizes and replenishes us, grounding us in our own company.

Yet, too much isolation, especially when our intention is to hide, withdraw, or not deal with the realities of our lives is not physically, mentally, or spiritually healthy. It is during moments like these when being in isolation takes us away from our lives, rather than enhancing it. If anything, too much isolation can create a buffer whereby we don't have to deal with our problems. Sometimes, pushing ourselves to deal with our issues and be in our lives, rather than isolate, is one of the best gifts we can give to ourselves.

Also, just as it is important for us to have our "alone" time, we need to remember that as human beings, we are by nature social creatures that thrive on human contact. Our lives cannot occur in a vacuum, and we cannot fully live in this world without interacting with others. Consider using isolation as time spent for rest, reinvigoration, and personal growth. Isolation can then not only empower you, but it can allow you to return to your work and your relationships restored and ready for life. from Daily OM

Two of my favourite books are Journal of a Solitude by May Sarton and Gift From the Sea by Anne Morrow Lindberg. I have been enjoying the 'solitude' of Owl Island where I have been sketching and spending quality solitary time.

This week consider escaping from the madness of society, take some 'alone time' and share your thoughts and feelings here, at Riversleigh, lwithin the sanctuary of the Lemurian Hermitage or in the Salon du Soul.

Monday, March 20, 2006

Return to the Lantern

People will return here,
as they must in time,
and I must tend the Lantern

Exceed your Grasp

The lost Lantern of Cuin, or so it is told,
Was rounded with four handles, impossible to hold;
For each was cut sharply and honed to edge keen
That could only be lifted with wisdom foreseen.

Each was a large ring cast in the fires of dawn
As large as your heart and small as fear's spawn,
And set in bronze teeth as in four-square defense
That in pairs they opposed though with names in suspense.

One was of cold iron drawn up from Blessed Earth;
The second was of pure gold as the soul of birth.
The next was crystal with the clarity of thought,
While the last was of silver spirit-thread wrought.

Yet their profound nature could n'er be perceived
Except at the seizing in one moment proclaimed,
By the surrender of will bound in pride and deceit
And the yielding of self to the faith and the Light.

For some pairs seem to balance while others oppose,
And your life, simple man, is to embrace, I suppose --
Which define your existence of this Attention
Through invitation and choice and bonded intention.

If you clasp the wrong handles the balance is lost
And your future is molded by humanity tossed,
But to lift high this Lantern in tune with the song
Will transport you to Source where you surely belong.

Work then to learn alchemy set here and about
To transform the elements through wizardly art,
Or learn through life's study of lanterns held dear
In community and brotherhood both far and near.

Or you can learn here the secret of these three things,
That a simple gifted staff can slip through the rings,
And two people together can lift it with ease,
For as two serve as one so shall wonder appease.

Monday, March 13, 2006

Something Good

Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.

Pueblo Blessing

I just love this quote and the first line is my favorite,
“Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.”

I held lots of earth today and I remembered this quote, because to me it is so potent. No matter what seems wrong in my life, no matter how depressed I feel, I can go outside and I can bend down and I can pick up a handful of earth and I can know that it IS GOOD. Well depending on where I bend maybe I can pick up a handful of dirt for you see I live in an area where the natural earth is clay.

Though this type of soil can be a problem in its original state, still it is good for lots of things. Our southeastern Ohio forests thrive on it. It is good for making pottery and many pottery makers became successful here. Our state tree, the Ohio Buckeye is well suited to this heavy soil. As children we enjoyed our clay soil, making many a fine mud pie.

But every gardener knows that vegetable and most flower plants grow best in a fertile, well-drained soil of loamy texture. Clay earth glumps together, you cannot just walk out and pick up a handful of soil after a rain, it is compacted, sticky and if you manage to dig some up it is sticky, glues together. This type of dirt becomes compacted with moisture and doesn’t drain well.

So working up the soil is a must if you want to grow anything but forests or wild weeds. We add manure, leaves and all sorts of organic matter to our earth here constantly.I have been mulching the paths in my Lemuria garden for years. ( this is the garden behind the blue door.) Today I went out there and came to the conclusion that although I have been adding organic matter to the clay soil in the beds, my best soil was in the paths beneath my feet, where the bark mulch has broken down through the years.

Is there something to be discovered behind this irony of my best soil developing on my paths and not in my flower beds? I haven’t figured that out yet, but I spent a good amount of time retrieving this soil and putting it aside to save for a new bed. It was so rich and black and fine! Ah! Good dirt! Then I redid my paths, I had lots of pine needles that have fallen from the white pines, they are now a golden brown so I covered the paths with these. And then for a long time I just sat there, my big bucket of dirt filtering through my hands and I held onto something good, something really, really good.

Saturday, March 04, 2006


I feel bad that I haven't posted in a while. I never had anything really to post; a short story of mine is taking longer than expected for me to write.

Past obsessions
These scars show a memory,
of a different past;
when I was new to this pain,
when i wished it wouldn't last.

Im a different person now;
I have a different mind,
though I could not put a finger on,
what I have left behind.

Im not sure whether to leave it at that or not. Comments?