first lodge

There I am, brightly colored silk skirt wrap to her ankles, black tank top, pink cardigan. I am walking against most of the traffic coming home as I make my way down the path to the Central train station. I have a loaded backpack with wine, tambourine,extra clothes and more. I am carrying a belum stretched out full of drums, whistles, candle and more on the left shoulder, while the right hand carries another bag with a length of drying Elder, a smoker and more.
I imagined myself quite an odd sight, but the city crowd is used to much stranger visions and so I sailed by with only polite glances my way.
Jingle jingle jingle. All the way.

Off the train again, another 15 minutes to go down crowded streets to Sandra's house.

Only three of us. And we gather, and we talk and the mood is gentle and charged and flowing.
This is my first real rodeo. And I am intending to leave most things to memory and feeling.
After the conversation turns deep and conscious, there is a moment of lull, and I feel it. It's time.

I lit the smoker, bring the women in the room. One crone. Very auspicious.

In you I see the beauty

Flowing to the Ocean

Elder's inaugural magic

Aphrodite to heartbeat

Two tambourines

Whistle

Heart drum

And the whole time a little burning smoke to take it all up up and away.

There are always tears, there are always revelations.

And I let it have it's way with me and my ears and my tongue and my heart.

We ate homemade Greek food and drank wine and fermented ginger beer and danced for each other and cooed over furry ones.

The moon shines even on the underside, she wins out over pollution and city lights.
We do not ever see her rise here, the buildings are too many and too tall and too close.

But still she rises.

Sensitivity in a chatterbox city can be taxing, but I would not trade it to be numb to her glow.

Merry Meet

Merry Part

And Merry Meet Again.