"Go find your father!"
The Winds have come. Glorious Fall Day today on this moku Whidbey Island. The temperature is crisp, and I feel glad to be layered with warm clothes, except my socks are damp. Darn, such is the way of things imperfectly perfect in my place I am comfortable from head to ankle. Such a small price to pay for the Glorious Fall Experience -- damp feet.
I am back from a small journey from the woods driving my Subaru to visit my goat-tending, goat-loving friend. Her dear goats give her company and lovely milk. It was the milk I was after, another
venture into creating a wildcrafted remedy to soothe my smoke and ash affected lungs. Learning as I am this year to ask for the knowing held in medicine plants who live with me, I needed a pint of freshly milked goat milk, raw and enzyme rich milk to add to the mullein infusion made before Mahina turned 'Ole.
Journeying on this path of respectfully acknowledging how connected I (and we) am to all others, this discomfort and congestion from smoke-inhalation slows me or tempers my wanting to get the quick fix. The process is slow, this process of huaka'i, this process of migrating. Going from what has and is the cultural overlay of ignoring or devaluing the huge loss as a result of Tree Losses; believing there is nothing I can do to readapt my relationship with Tree; or worse not recognizing there are actions I do that led to the loss of water Tree requires to create oxygen.
Muddling toward a lei of words that string together my morning's experience so many pieces want to be part of this story. Which pieces?
I turned right rather than left at the highway, and took the longer road to my friend's house
On the way there I had more time to listen to Clarissa Pinkola Estes' Mother Night Myths, stories & teachings for Learning to See in the Dark
On the longer way there I spot Mullein! More Mullein and she blooms. She blooms in early October!
I miss my friends driveway the first time, but it made no never mind, I turned around and found the orange flag left there from an earlier trip
My friend and I speak of wonderful things: the awesome effect of the 'Aimalama Lunar Conference; she is answering the questions about the conference in her head, but, they're not on paper ... it's okay!
My friend and I speak the words of my Mother's tongue: mahi 'ai = the one who farms yes, but more than that the one who grows a relationship with that which will feed; kilo = observe; observer of life as it happens where you are
My friend and I speak about the mixed blessing or curse of 'affliction' and how we deal with the experience. Rid it quick? Learn from it slowly? I relate to her quandary and we talk more as I hold on the pint of fresh goat milk
My friend holds up a palm-size Ozette Macaw potato the children from the School Garden harvested this week. Fingerlings grew huge with the very different climate this summer. What appeared on the surface (imperfect green leaves) were hiding roots and food to feed many. It was in the digging that the bounty came.
"There's a metaphor in there," said my friend's partner who had just woken as I prepared to leave.
Huaka'i, journey leave home and find your path find 'your father.' Live your own heroine's or hero's story. With Mahina the Moon in her 'Ole face I see her there out of the driver's seat of the Subaru. Here with me on my morning's huaka'i I greet her, "E Hina!" I love the company and kilo observe her shape in the clear mid-morning sky. The stories from Mother Night have fed me all day and night and they are stirring me, refreshing my commitment to write, to tell, to notice and record. The 'Ole Moon Faces (phases) are a time to prepare the ground for planting. I do. My belly has the milk of my friend's dear goats mixed with Mullein infusion from Jayne's pea patch garden swirled with a forkful of Buckwheat flower honey. I believe it hums in me. I prepare my ground for planting restoration ... slowly, respectfully I huaka'i.