We shall have to admit
the season turns. The cold wind that chilleth the waters chilleth me. Let us wrap ourselves and walk on.
According to the Cheyenne, the vision quest is not so much a quest for a vision as it is the submission of oneself to the spiritual powers of the universe, an opening of oneself to cosmic power and to the entering of out-of-body spirit selves. It is a freeing of oneself from desire for material things, a sharing in the physical and spiritual workings of the world.
That sounds like what I have proposed for myself - letting the land rise up and enter me. Letting the landness of me come in. The world is a place of miracles; let me enter in, let the world enter me. Ultimately, to follow, as the water follows the river's course.
The night wanted to make ice, but it didn't make much - the pond has only a partial skin this morning.
Frost on the windshield. Greyness and blueness overhead. Some sun showing now and again. Leaves from the trees on the lawn - they are crisp with frost.
The alfalfa in the hayfield north of Fairwater is shrinking inside its dreaming self. A haze in the distance, as if the air has been frosted; way off, the trees want to disappear into it. Above - a certain blueness forces itself on us.
When you're driving 55, you don't want to see too much, you don't want to write too much.
Comments