Singing the Pagan Moon: All Hallow’s Eve

Continuing with the season of reflection and looking back to older posts these past weeks, and in honor of the pagan sabbat of Samhain (Halloween), something from my England archives (2010): All Hallows Eve. It feels as if the entire day has been lifted from a spooky, storybook tale with ghostly trees draped in mist…

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Where The Elk Dream

I drive a short distance up into the western front of the crumpled, arid mountains that always feel like home. From the wide valley floor at seven thousand feet, the squat piñon and fragrant junipers slowly yield to tall ponderosa pines and shimmering aspens that crowd the higher elevations. There, overlooking the endless painted horizon of New…

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Conscious Loving, encore

This week, gentle reader, a shortened reprise of an older post that I feel called to share once again.  My dear beekeeping mentor on Maui, a keenly spiritual man with a generous and sensitive heart, once said, “There is nothing like being reunited with the beloved.” So true. In the long stretch of years of…

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Changing Seasons: Feeling the Touch of the World

I wonder sometimes if I am simply dreaming this life, or whether I am being dreamed, instead.  In the past weeks, England has been heavily in my mind. At unexpected moments throughout the day — washing and cutting vegetables, walking the dogs, taking a shower — I suddenly see myself there, back in places familiar…

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Reconsidering Success: Shadows and Light

In the darkened womb of the round, earthen chamber, its center altar lit by a lone white taper candle, I sat quietly on my mat. Outside, unseen by me but their energy omnipresent, the tall trees stood sentinel, whispering stories and songs of the ages at the edge of a restless, dark sea.  I had driven north to…

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