29.14

So, this might be cheating.
I wrote this about 5 years ago when I first moved to Washington.

The moon was out tonight.
Orion at her side.
Her blue light shining
on the back of my hand, clutching the steering wheel.
And it brought me back...
to a large snowy field,
with two girls lost in footprints.
to rolling down a white hill,
with stolen cigarettes on our breath.
to a depressed and happy time in my life
when you were there.
The bumps on the side of the road
bring me back...
to my hands righting the steering wheel
of a different car, in a different state without snow,
in a different year, a different time.
But the moon's blue light
still glows on the back of my hand
and I am still a scared young girl in a snowy field
and you are still with me.

29.13

29.12

I was in the desert.

My mouth was dry. I could feel the sand, the grit against my teeth, whipped up by the wind, unknowinly entering the dark cavernous realms of my mouth.

I was walking along a road, red rock mountains in the distance. I came upon a tree, the only shade for miles. Caught in the uppermost bows was a kite of pink and yellow and green. Trembling in the wind, trying to loose itself, to fly, to be free.

I watched it dance it's imprisoned dance.

I sat below the tree to rest. The leaves of the tree played a sporadic melody as the wind continued to wind it's way across the plain.

In the distance I saw a mirage. A man was walking towards me, dressed in white. His loose clothes hung over a skeletal frame. He carried a cage made of wood, sticks bound together in a manner I had not seen before. There was nothing inside.

He walked as though I was not there below the tree. I thought perhaps he did not see me. I was hoping he would pass by. He stopped.

He turned to face me. His eyes were closed. The wind failed. The leaves quit singing. I could hear his breath. In, then out, then in once more.

Nervous I watched him.

His eyes opened suddenly.

They were the color of the ocean, far from land. Far from the reach of the average person.

I felt as though I was falling into them, into their depth. Into the depth of the ocean.

My breathing failed.

I felt as though he was looking not at me, but in me. Into the very center of my being. Past the layers of protection I had constructed through the years. Past every defense I held, into the heart where my deepest wish and my greatest fear both resided.

My eyes continued to hold his gaze. It seemed as though they posessed all of the knowledge ever known in the world. I was lost.

He raised his palm as I stared entranced. Showing me each finger, he slowly opened the door to the empty cage. He thrust his hand inside, feeling around for a moment, then clasped his hand tightly. He retracted his closed fist and held it for a moment in front of me, then threw it into the air and released his grip as a small white dove took flight, away into the heavens she flew. He watched her as she ascended and began to laugh, the sound of which made the leaves sing once more as the wind began to whip up the sand from it's momentary rest.

He lowered his gaze to mine once more, and with the force of a wave meeting the shore, my breath returned to my chest.

He turned and continued walking, his gait slow, and never once looked back.

29.11

Come on now,

put your hand out,

touch the rock.

I know it seems a long way off,

but I promise you it's not.

And it may seem

too big,

too far,

too scary,

but if it didn't seem that way,

would it really be worth doing?

29.10

Mira la luna llena.
Filled with reflection
of the absent sun's rays.
I watch silently.
She shows me the sun
even though it is night.
She shows me what's gone wrong,
as well as what's gone right.
Unaware of me as I stare
searching for energy
an answer, a prayer.
All she shows me
is all I can see.
Reflections of who I am,
who I'm called to be.

29.9

From yesterday... I knitted for about 4 hours. Sweater on the way.

29.7.8

29.7
First off, I am finding it hard to post everyday here in Peru. Secondly, it is trying to get photos on to a computer that is connected to the internet making me less zealous in my post a day quest.

Anyway, on Tuesday, I spent time reconnecting with two of the artisan groups that I worked with when I lived here before, Mana and Kuichi. It may be a stretch in some ways, but I think building relationships definitely falls under the category of the creative act. But, with Amelia and Bertha of Mana, we made a new reusable grocery style bag out of an old flour sack. It's pretty dang skippy if you aske me (I will post the photo when I can). I also started knitting a new sweater.

29.8

I have returned home.
To a home of hospitality
where chicken is the norm, I'm never fat enough, and toilet seats are rare.

I've missed Lima in ways I never thought possible.
Like the odor that wafts down every street...it may be strange,
but it feels good to smell it.
And the crazy commotion of the traffic in the streets,
seemingly constantly out of control with horns blaring and tires squealing.

The utter lack of control forces me to relax, to let go
and learn to be like the water under the control of the moon.
Forcing me this way, then that way, then this way again.
I must float here, without control, without consent.
It is something I strive to imprint on my life and my actions

--but then there I go--

trying to control my life and what happens there in.
When in all reality, it is not my life -it is God's life- to do with what God chooses.

My only job is to flow.
With the water, with the moon, with creation.
To do my best to follow the path set before me with as much grace as possible,
and with my gracefullness being akin to a walrus on dry land
I need to be reminded daily what water feels like.

What it feels like to float, what it feels like to swim.
I need to remember what the blundering, clumsy, non footed mammal looks like when she swims.
Gliding under the waves, unstoppable.

And so I pray, God
let me ride the waves as I ride in a taxi cab,
coursing through traffic, pulled by the moon, pushed by your spirit.
Help me remember that it is your Will and not mine.
That is the lesson I keep forgetting to remember.
It is not my plan, it is yours.
And my energy, and my spirit, and my passion all come from you
and to you they will return.

29.6

Growing hurts.

I would imagine if our ears could hear
the voices of the trees and plants
there would be a constant piercing cry.
Howling their pains as their roots dig deeper
craving stability in the darkness,
and their green parts reach up to the sun,
their goal in life to be shined upon.
It is natural to grow.
And as we grow, as we go around the sun,
sometimes in shadow and sometimes in light,
I think that sometimes we are meant to scream.

29.5

Well, I did not write this today....but it has been stuck in my head as I have traveled south. Again, at some point I will get it recorded and share it with you.

Ever After

Let me tell you a dream that I dreamt as a child.

It found me on the banks of the river wild.

Unaware of things that I never knew.

It followed me as a I grew.

Forts and trees and images in the sky.

Peter Pan and kites that wanted to fly.

There I was with a broom dancing free.

He was my prince, now my prince is me.

Over rocks, and years, and trees that I've climbed.

My dream has stayed through the passage of time.

I will tell you once and I'll tell you true.

My dream, it was never for you.

The only dream that I have for me

Is to find my way through life, happily....

Ever after.

Ever after.

Ever after.

29.4

29.3

New Song Lyrics.......when I get it recorded, I will figure out how to share that with you as well.

California.

I've never been to California
I wonder if I'd like it there.
People tell me there's sun and beaches
Birds flying, fresh ocean air
But I can't see you there.

I love to float in the water
Feel my body warmed by sun
Taste dried salt on my lips
Watch the stars when the day is done.
But I can't see you there.

I told you I would follow
Anywhere you wanted to go.
You wanted California
But You wanted to go alone.
Now I find myself in New York
About as far east as I could go
For the most part life is good here
but it's gray and kind of cold
I think I'm missing the sun
I think I know where I can find that.

I've never been to California.
I heard you never went.
Maybe it's time I took control.
Maybe it's time I headed west.
I think I'm needing the sun
I think I know where I can find that.

I've never been to California
I think I'd like it there.
People tell me there's sun and beaches
Birds flying, fresh ocean air
I love to float in the water
Feel my body warmed by sun
Taste dried salt on my lips
Watch the stars when the day is done.
And I won't see you there.
No I won't see you there.

29.1 ...

Hey Everybody.

Again, it's been a while...and now I am a 29 years and 1 day old. I am still living at Stony Point Center in New York state, struggling with what it means to be in an intentional inter-religious community committed to nonviolence and peace building and all that entails.

Through an interfaith young adult farming internship I participated in this summer, I have found that I am, in fact, an activist, and that I am very interested in living out the idea of nonviolence in my everyday life. Yes, that means in participating in the dismantling of systems of injustice, but it also means participating in the creation of peace. This is where my heart truly lives, and where my blog is going to be changing. I am hoping to share my creative acts here. I am not going to vow to write everyday, or take a new photograph, or write a new song....that is something I would fail at. But, I am going to challenge myself to live out my experience of creation through my words, lens and voice....and whatever other means I find along the way.

To start this new practice off, I want to share with you a poem I wrote on my first Eid (that I was aware of, at least). After an intense Ramadan, I was struck with the beauty of Islam and the importance of my Muslim family in my life--and that despite my best efforts, I remain irrevocably and unapologetically Christian.

My Little m.

I grew up in a left to right,

top to bottom

world.

Where God was three people

and souls were lost and found daily.

Where I bowed my head and held tight my eyes

as I laced together my hands, finger in and finger out,

my lips silently moved as I spoke words I knew

but don’t ever remember learning.

And as I have moved through the cycles of the moon,

as Saturn returns to the place of my birth,

I am finding a world that flows from the right to the left

and God is praised with every breath, with the entire body

and the voice in prayer is audibly shared, communally recited as

God is just one.

And I am aware of my little m

as I pray in motion, I bow in prostration,

with my elbows up and my angels Salaamed

and I wonder if my little m is a big M in disguise.

As if I am a child riding a bike with training wheels

unsure

if I can take the next step and say those words

from my heart with witnesses present

as I don’t know if I can believe them and trust in them,

AMIN.

And so maybe my m stays small and I stay in awe

of my body in motion, and my call to prayer

is a call to be present in a life we all share,

and my three part God, stays in three parts—but three parts of one whole,

and my whole soul seeks it’s path with honesty and an earnest ear,

listening for the waves,

entering from the left and receding from the right.

I stare down the shoreline and

I notice as I turn my head that now the waves

come from the right and leave from the left and

it is just one ocean and

there is just one shore and

we are all God’s people

waiting and

seeking and

listening

as the waves continually venture towards our souls.

copyright katie rains 2010

Peace to you all as this fall brings the start of many holiday seasons and many seasons of preparation.

love, katie