I took the images at the 625-acre Mima Mounds Natural Area Preserve in Washington, USA. Soils formed as glaciers melted about 11,000 years ago. This site protects native ecosystems and rare plants and animals. There are many theories about how the mounds of earth formed. My favorite is the giant gopher theory!
This is an interesting video about the mounds:
and laughing…here’s what it looks like MOST of the year:
I imagine your voice as the sea alive in the deep night
A rhythmic strength, a moonlight lullaby
I imagine your presence the solid branch set across clear stream
A place to cross over, a passageway to the other side
I imagine your taste the ripe fruit cleansed and divided whole
A sugar to tongue, a craving reborn
I imagine your chest the mossy grass of midsummer
A softness to palm, a tingle to my skin
I imagine your hands the breeze through the evergreen of cedar
A visiting ebb, a caress between limbs
I imagine your lips the cotton candy of youth
A melting satisfaction, a spiral of sweetness
I imagine your soul the wings of the monarch
A flawless design, a freedom to flight
I imagine your movement the rapids over boulder
A cleansing crush, a cool rush of nature
I imagine your image the reflection in still pond
A mirror to myself, a partner to my imagining
You are everything to me, my sunrise and my sunset
The prettiest ones
The very best ones
You are the stars I count on
You are the clouds I dream upon
You are the ducks dipping, the ferris wheel spinning
You are the lights strung upon the summer tree
You are all that makes me smile
And more, so much more
I can’t begin to explain
It would take a lifetime or two
Just to count all the reasons I adore you
Your hair, your eyes
Your nose so cute
I want to nibble you whole and in completion
Bite through your sexiness
I want to run my fingers through you
And dance on you like some worn out disco floor
I want to tap and spin
And glide on knees
Feel your smoothness beneath me
And eat your very soul
Release me bloody panther of the night
The one I spear, who keeps rising
With claws to chest
Carving name into my flesh
I run and you follow
My scent, your prisoner
You are naught but heavy stones in my pocket
Backpack on weary shoulders
Silver spikes beneath my feet
A broken time piece
Your face a façade
You are unwelcomed fever
The torture of still birth
A labor of death
You are the stripe of the honey bee
The symbol of nectar’s sting
I will not be your dance floor
Your river or mountain
I will be nothing you move upon
You feed me not, whittler of bones
And nor shall I be your prey
I turn you mystic muse
To the muds of moors
And make the howling hound your bed song
Cry for me now
This light slipped through your fingers
So I might collect your tears
And spit them at your shadow
I am blood-dry to your enchantment
Fed upon the last time
To me you are the stinging nettle of pain
The poison oak of itch
The jelly fish of sting
In leaving I shall paint the walls of you
With my echoed screams
So you may sit now
And hear the wing-clipped raven
Crying in the attic’s mind
It is your turn
Of empty ghost
Your turn to grasp
And find nothing but empty cloud of drought
I will be not your star
I will be not your sun
Instead I shall step dark upon your grave
And kick dirt at your memory
My laughter, your sorrow
My victory, your loss
My hope, your awakening
To the world without me
By Sam Craft, July 2012
The following are photos from the bird sanctuary. There is a mile long platform that stretches across the wetlands and leads to the salt-water sound. There are hundreds of birds flying everywhere and adjacent nature trails.
A song I can’t get out of my head. There’s always one that sticks around for days.
“I have a deep angst in the depths of me that I have been carrying in my soul since May of this year. I do not have the words to describe this experience, except to say I feel a vast depth in my inner being that is filled with a mixture of love, passion, and longing. I have carried this from when I awake, until I sleep.
Dreams bring escape.
I have tried to figure out what to do with this feeling that feels akin to unconditional expansive love—a bottomless pit I want to fill with all the beauty about me.
I have had no choice but to pour the angst out of my soul day after day into prose and poetry. Each day I think I am emptied, only to find, time and time again, that I am not relieved for even a moment.
I have tried to pour this love into one person, and find that this love is not made for one.
I have tried to cry it out, walk it out, starve it out, laugh it out, talk it out….but alas it stays, lingering in the forefront of my every waking thought.
This love will not depart, and instead seems to grow with each coming day.
I know not what to do. The feeling is akin to the huge cavernous hole I would experience with the thought of expectation, a joyful event about to take place, a reunion of lovers, an anticipation of marvelous ecstasy.
The butterflies are a million. The energy persuasive and all-encompassing, as if heaven’s angels are all at once swirling within me, their wings stirring a golden dust of light.
I cannot move at times.
I cannot catch my breath at times.
And there seems to be no antidote.
I am slowly realizing that I am not meant to solve this riddle of love.
I am not meant to dislodge the love or give this love to one.
I am meant to embrace this love and welcome it. To say each morning: Welcome my angst. Welcome my calling. Welcome heaven’s voice. Thank you for letting me know I am alive. Thank you for letting me be your instrument. I welcome you with open arms. I embrace you. I walk with you for as long as you wish to be here. And I carry you for the world. This light seed. This watering can for the masses.” ~ Sam Craft, July 2012
We went to Mt. Rainier National Forest in the state of Washington, USA, yesterday.
I felt this unbearable love the entire drive there. I listened to music through my headphones and daydreamed of a forest glen, me as an elven princess, and of a charming knight. When we arrived at the basin of National Park I asked the heavens for a sign, for validation of this vast love I am carrying. Within minutes all the dark clouds began to disperse. Not long after, when I stepped out of the van, I turned, and this is what I saw.
This heart cloud was only there for a matter of seconds.
Later I asked for more signs. Greedy little girl I am…..because one heart in a beautiful clear blue sky was not enough!
I’ve always said that the angels have a sense of humor…. These are the signs I was given.
Signs on the path my family made for me and my youngest, so we could find our way to the end of the trail.
I am still learning to SPECIFY when I make requests for signs!
Hours later, as we finished our 5.5 mile hike, I looked up to the sky, and specifically asked for a sign to validate the overflowing love I have inside and to confirm one of my deepest desires (a desire which I shall not mention because I don’t have to–giggles and blushing)
And in an almost cloudless sky, another heart cloud formed right then and there above me.
“Your truth speaks for those still listening for their voices, between the frayed and hanging stitches of their seams.” ~ My Aunt’s words to me
Oh, and here are my toes.
Tomorrow I shall post some lovely photos of the National Forest. Almost as lovely as my big toe. Or I shall share a silly slumber party poem that mentions the word shagging! Or both. Or something else. Isn’t life wonderful? All these choices. And toes…..glorious purple toes.
Photographs of State Park in Washington (July 2012)
I am lost for words today. A woman in a forest of thoughts and mystery, both intrigued and frightened by her own mind.
I am between two rivers, two streams of thought, of how I am to be and what I want to be.
I question my every need, my every desire, my unyielding passion. And yet I know I am pure. I know I am enough. But I wonder where to turn in my mind. Where to stop. Where the boundaries are…when thoughts are exhausted and nothing else exists.
I only want to be loved. I only long to give love. But why do I long? Where does the longing rise from? Where is the switch? This knowing? This intensity? Where is this me that calls from beneath the shadows?
I measure everything. I place abstractness on scales. My actions are spared, as my thoughts have been filtered through and through, weighed out, analyzed, scrutinized…my actions don’t have a chance…they are absent…missing…vapors evaporating before they breathe.
Where do I travel? Where do I go? Why am I a lone wanderer on a planet that does not feel familiar and in a body and form I do not recognize? Why can I see others more clearly than my own self? And where do I stand? If I do not follow and do not lead, then where is my place in line?
Where is my reflection? Where do I find me. I cannot see me except through the eyes of another, and still this perception is so broken and shattered. And in my own mirror, I do not know this me. Everything in physical is not me. Every angle different and obscure. If I am not what I see and not what another sees, then what am I?
Am I my words? These symbols? These sounds? Am I energy? Am I flesh? Am I this still beating heart? Or am I more so this ache, this deep and unreachable ache. Yes, I am this ache. I am in totality this intense ache.
So where to put me, this angst, this invisible pull that spins me into unwanted need and unneeded want. Where to put me?
Perhaps to the moon. Fly me to the moon, so I may be made whole. So that I may exist as an unmistakable mass dancing in empty space. My purpose only to move and stir. Paste me there. My image melted into one form. This searching ended. Paste me to the moon, so that I may watch from above and you may watch from below; and then we can both, from where we exist, imagine the world of the image before us.