“Not knowing is most intimate.”

Full days and deep nights and to jump back into the blog, let’s have a rodeo roundup. Breviloquent dreams, a waking Dreamtime adventure, and ambivalent thoughts. And a recipe.

Does Buddha (seated, rotund) wield a sword (long, slender, held point-up)?

“I dreamed first is (a word meaning the experience), then (a word meaning a kind of following / undertaking / process), then Heaven.”

D.A. and I are singing. When we sing, our parents are singing through us. “That makes 4 people who were dead, who are now singing.”

I sit in a diner booth across from/facing a big round American Indian man – dark, middle-aged, youthful but learned. We talk calmly and easily, companions. He is telling me about Medicine Wheel. I tell him about the Medicine Wheel I learned online, though it takes a moment for my words to hold his attention / for me to get started. I say it came from Sun Bear. Ah yes, he knows Sun Bear. This tells him it’s worthy of his attention. I say, “It really helped me. To know where the different parts of myself were, from my center.” As I say this, I see/feel a little diagram of the directions in the air between us, elucidating my words. He nods, feeling/appreciating my meaning, agreeing. I notice, when he’s looking down / into himself / not at me, that he’s wearing a shimmery sky-blue eyeliner like mine, so bright against his dark skin and hair and shadow.

I won $4 on a green lotto scratcher with orange letters.

10.27 Carpinteria:

Wind trail hike
the anger anguish wind
the night terror yeller
dark in the morning
on the cliff I go West
and feel it in my body core,
this surge punch winded hhhhmmmm
Chippy says The anger of the gods wind
We feel it.
Ériu runs.
Living myth.
Chippy runs back to the cliff, must
for his wind scream that comes of Om.
I stand in the wind tunnel wind
and am only wind
only my body in wind
stripping caressing strong
powering me.
Where I felt it in my body core, the West’s touch:
the place from which the scream comes,
Chippy points me.
I give us each an acorn.
(I asked for a warrior image from sleep,
and received a waking wind warrior dream.)

Last night I lay down a deer, in perfect sweetness, alertness reclining into a soft grass-flat thicket of close enough.

This morning I woke a tiger, hungry from the deep sleep and delighted in its new play. Appetite! A tiger hungry for meat, for people, meat — but who catches a termite and lets it outside only slightly squashed. Out in the Free Zone, Amy found a mug with two tigers. Inside, my tiger growls like fire. Its growl curls in the body core, the place of that gusting sunrise wind.

W’s are burning words:
want, wish, write,
why.

First I was using “Appetite” (1275–1325; ME appetit (< AF) < L appetītus natural desire, equiv. to appetī- From past participle of appetere, to strive after : ad-, ad- + petere, to seek.)

But then I found Gust:

–noun
1. a sudden, strong blast of wind.
2. a sudden rush or burst of water, fire, smoke, sound, etc.
3. an outburst of passionate feeling.
–verb (used without object)
4. to blow or rush in gusts.

–noun
1. Archaic. flavor or taste.
2. Obsolete. enjoyment or gratification.
–verb (used with object)
3. Scot. to taste; savor.
Origin:
1400–50; late ME < L gustus a tasting (of food), eating a little, akin to gustāre to taste

Probably from Old Norse gustr; see gheu- in Indo-European roots.
OR
Middle English guste, taste, from Latin gustus; see gusto.

—-

While I haven't been blogging, I've been cooking. Feeling the Fall goodness. Here's one (decidedly un-Tiger-like) that passed the test:

Canteloupe Magic
Canteloupe Magic:

Canteloupe
Feta
Almond slivers
Honey
Dijon

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~ by Arrrow Marie on November 2, 2009.

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