Many years ago, the spirit of a Congolese man gifted to me the drinking gourd of his Espiritismo, and directed me to stay up late at night and write.
Many years ago, a teacher encouraged me to follow in the footsteps of the Prophet and take the night journey.
Many years ago, I was a PhD student with two infant sons, and I did not act on this advice.
Now, on some nights, I make sacred space, pour rum into a crossroads incised cup and let ink flow across paper. Here, I share these words with the world, poured forth from Manuel’s Gourd.
Oct. 2, 2018 Waning half moon. Black moon conjunct Mars.
This is the Reckoning.
Last weekend, on the Equinox
I was WILD.
I knew my self,
to be a vessel between heaven and earth,
with a huge heart extending through my hands.
But in the back of my mind
I feared so much light.
I knew it was only hiding the darkness.
A preying mantis danced for me today.
“A baby preying mantis! “ my kids exclaimed. Not even an inch big and green as can be. It appeared walking up my calf but stopped on my knee...read more
Manuel, I’ve taken your advice, a habit perhaps is developing and as Octavia Butler said, “habit is more dependable than inspiration.”...read more
Beer, not rum. No sage, no candles. The sacred space is in my heart and in my head tonight. Not in the room. I don’t even have the gourd.
Housemate walks in door with the days news….and I’m led to ask,
What has emboldened the bigots!? ...read more
Just as I start to make progress as a metalsmith, consistent daily action, just as I begin my mythologist IDAES project. Now I must return to teaching. I am grateful for the developing habits. I am developing. They are healing, with their embodiment I am whole and healing....read more