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Monday, March 9, 2015


one-eyed jack

Just now heard self say something I've been doing recently, a change, one that flowed in so naturally I didn't notice for awhile. An apple core was on the corner of the desk waiting to be thrown outside for birds to peck, a possum to find. I spoke to self in head, I need to throw this outside for somebody to eat. Somebody. I've been calling birds, dogs, all critters, somebody, personification, which some would call projection. This has been an entire lifetime coming. I felt this way in childhood, but not any one individual in my world got it, not a teacher in school, nobody. I did not believe I was wrong in personifying the animals, fish and bugs, so I kept it to myself, one of many things I forgot I knew. Eventually, I learned people in shamanic cultures saw the critters as persons. Horse person, crow person, groundhog person. It doesn't mean they were treated any better than they are now. As I've been drifting out of this world, less contact with the belief system of television and Western Civilization, I'm referring to the birds and donkeys as people. The Chickadee people, the Blue Jay people, the Red Squirrel people. I cannot help but sit here and see a red squirrel outside the window sitting upright, holding a sunflower seed with its fingers, nibbling on it, eyes and ears alert to surroundings, without seeing a human in a different body. I've paid attention to dogs and cats to find they think, they feel, they have emotions, they play. I could call us animals, but that freaks everybody out. I'm now calling them persons in my self-talk. It tells me a shift on the inside, something is new within---thinking of a bird as a person is one expression of it. The donkeys are clearly people on four legs with long necks and faces. They can't speak English, but they have a language of sounds, gestures, telepathy, body language, that works as well as talking, perhaps better. I automatically think of Jack and Jenny as persons. 

snow on jenny's face

It says something like I have separated myself enough from the influence of the belief systems I live among that my own belief system from my own experience has room to come forward and fill in the space. In these years I am finding the place within that I moved to the mountains to find. I thought it might take five to ten years. Now it's forty years on the path and I'm having insight into the invisible flow all around me and in me, the force that through the green fuse drives the flower. I liked them calling it the Force in the Star Wars movies, only for its refreshing quality with few associations to replace the word God that has so many associations piled on that it's buried under a mountain of trash. My inclination is not to call it anything, the nameless. I feel like I'm having occasional insights into the flowing nature of the nameless consciousness called life, God, the Force. I prefer to use the lower case, like god, except that, too, has too many associations to have meaning anymore. It's the Tao, the everything and the nothing, swirling in a circular motion like stirring a can of paint. Sometimes in the donkey meadow I feel like the air itself is the nameless consciousness the same as the life force that keeps the donkeys standing on their legs, and me. It's that same nameless something that leaves the body upon dying. And then there is the world of spirits the shamans are able to go in and out of. It requires guidance I don't have to go there, and I don't have any reason to want to go there. I understand it is too dangerous a world to go into out of curiosity alone. I'm happy here in my world of donkeys, birds, cat and friends. I don't need more than that. I'm feeling like the smaller my world, the more room I have for awareness of the spirit.

snow on jenny's back

This morning Jenny snatched a carrot from my pocket. I was giving them carrot, standing close to Jenny talking to her while she munched. I keep the carrots in my upper shirt pockets. Jenny picked one out of the pocket with her teeth as freely as with fingers. My automatic response was to break it in half for her, but knew better than to attempt taking a carrot from her mouth. She took the whole carrot in her mouth; they have long mouths on the inside. They only have front teeth. I watched her try to figure out how to deal with this whole carrot in her mouth with only front teeth. She worked it with her tongue until she was able to bite it. It was no inconvenience for her. Same morning, I carried an armload of hay out into the meadow to spread on the ground for them. The hay was packed tightly in the bale, making wafers a couple inches thick. They prefer that I break up the wafers. Otherwise, they have to start chewing at the edges. Broken up into mounds of loose hay, they pick the pieces in it they like and leave the part they don't like. Chewing on a wafer, they get the hay they don't like too. This is the leftovers from last year's hay. I wondered why they left some at end of the day. I see it is all the same hay they leave. Jack was chewing on a wafer while I was breaking some up for him. I reached to take the wafer while he was chewing it, knowing they know what I'm doing and want me to do it. Jack moved his open mouth toward my hand twice. It was his way of saying leave it alone. Caterpillar will do the same when I am grooming knots out of her fur. I pull a little too much on her fur and it hurts. She swings her head around and touches my hand very slightly with her teeth, a way of saying, "That hurt." I saw Jack was doing the same, saying, "Leave my food alone."

guru jack

I felt like Jack's gesture was the same as words. It showed me he will not bite me and he's talking to me. It was another step in our trust. I've trained the donkeys not to kick me by never hitting them or talking down to them. I regard them the Donkey people and have learned their means of communication well enough we understand each other. I've learned they read me telepathically, by body language, tone of voice, even words. We communicate now. Sometimes at hay time, I will walk around behind one or the other of them, close, almost touching, knowing they are antsy about anything behind them. Only after finding they won't kick me. I walk around behind, close as I can get without touching, to see if they have an automatic response, like a twitch in the leg before mind came in remembering our trust. Not even a ripple in a muscle. Jenny, the one I questioned most, doesn't show that she was even looking, though I know she was. They are as aware of what's behind them as in front. Jenny shows no concern having me that close to her backside. Jack is the same, no sign of apprehension. I read it a sign of trust. Jack gesturing toward my hand with his mouth told me he was saying, "If you were somebody else, I'd bite you, but it's you and I don't bite you, you've proven yourself a hundred percent over a year and a half to be my friend." I know not to attempt to take food from a donkey, but saw a test in it to see the measure of our trust, like first time I walked around behind Jack too close for his comfort. I also did it to show him he can trust me not to surprise him. It took a little longer with Jenny due to the circumstances around getting acquainted. I see now that Jack's and Jenny's understanding that I will not hurt them in any way is deeper than mind. It's gone into that place where it's automatic, no need to think about it. I couldn't sell Jack and Jenny for even an outrageous fortune. It would turn into thirty pieces of silver the moment they went out of sight.

both of them have an eye on what I'm doing with the camera


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