Someone shoot that rooster!
Someone shoot that rooster!
If we do not linger abed upon awakening,
and dwell upon our dreams,
we run the risk of not hearing/
not heeding their synopsis and interpretation
by their director and producer.
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“I think maybe the owls are out tonight.”
“I don’t know. It could be morning doves.”
Whatever it or they are, the sounds are muffled behind a closed window and the susurrus of the air conditioning.
The spirit being willing more than the flesh being lazy, I roll out of bed–a distance of three feet, open the window and reveal the world; its chorus of frogs and the song of the Barred Owl.
He has a distinctive call.
So I reply.
It is a moment before he responds. From hearing the sound of my Owl voice he is probably thinking that as an Owl, I am retarded, (Sorry folks, the politically correct words “developmentally disabled” just don’t convey the proper nuance in Owldom.) but deigns to answer me anyway.
“It’s good enough that he is answering you back,” Wifie says.
The three of us converse long enough–he and I in Owlish, and she to me in English–to drink in the strangeness of it all.
Until I stop.
When he doesn’t hear from me any more, he gives one last Awwww! And goes away to look for other friends elsewhere.
Sometimes the difference between living an uneventful life and enjoying a singular experience can be as little as three feet.
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There is something restful to be found in the even lighting before the sun rises; before the stark shadows.
In Anishinabe it would be…Mino Noos Giizhigad
Mē·nō Nūs Gē·zhē·gŭd: Happy (My) Father’s Day!
You would have been 90, and still going strong today, if you hadn’t smoked.
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At 5 a.m., Nanabozhu woke up and found himself sleeping in the “Inn over Oak Creek”, in Sedona, Arizona.
“Oh, It’s still dark outside. I wonder where the sun is. It should be getting light out by now.” He also noticed that he still felt a little tired.
“Hm.” He thought ” I think I’ll drop by that vortex at the Phoenix Airport for a little refreshment.” So he stepped outside, changed into a small Blue Heron, and winged his way over.
He searched for the place on the hill where the Junipers grew twisted. That was one of the ways that you knew to find a vortex. Of which he heard Sedona had four. Looking at one of the Junipers, he could see how it grew. It was as if the small tree had grown inside a cyclone and the wind perpetually twirling about had spiraled the tree as it grew so that not only the bark of the trunk and branches were twisted but their grain deep into the heartwood as well.
He knew he had arrived because he felt that tingling on his neck and the hair standing on the back of his head as the healing energy of he vortex refreshed him, and he began to feel better already. Still no sun though.
“That’s because I thought I would give you the honor of singing the sun into view.” the Earth said. “You see, the Sun always likes to hear the songs of The People of the Earth so I will slowly turn so he can hear the song of the next person to sing. “
“Well, what should I sing?” asked Nanabozhu with a twinkle in his eye. ” How about, ‘Ah’m all shook up’, by Elvis Presley?” He could feel the earth give him a gentle swat on his arm.
“That would be good if Elvis sang it.” she said, “But the Sun likes original songs that come from the singers themselves, the best.”
“I can do that.” replied Nanabozhu. He thought quietly for a few minutes and then raised both arms to the East where the sun would rise, and began his chant.Oh my favorite Sun, (even though you’re the only one.) Enlighten the skies to entice the eyes of children and old folks to waken. But not so much so, to the Larks please don’t go, they’d rather the day were forsaken. Then dim the stars and the moon, so The People will swoon when that beauty is seen come this e’en’. And turn the violet sky rose bring sweet dawn to the nose to soften the hearts of The People. Now Chiaroscuro the place your appearance will grace to make the artists of Sedona most happy; But not so intense that their feelings are flensed to the point that it makes them get sappy. Now color the earth and put shadows therein and the hearts of the people you’ll win. And when you are ready, shine your brilliance most steady, warm the air with your breeze for your kin; So to soothe stiff old bones and to soften sore muscles so we all say “Well Come!” when you show. And when you have risen, freed us all from night’s prison, we are thankful, just so you know.
Nanabozhu could feel the Earth looking at him askance; nevertheless, the Earth had turned, and the Sun had risen.
“Thank you.” said the smiling Sun. “That was…very Nanabozhu-esque. That certainly adds to my day.”
“Now”, said Nanabozhu to the Earth, “if you will allow me to rearrange things a little bit, I have a gift for you.” And with that, he rearranged a mountain formation so that it looked like his face, waking up to the dawn and praying. Which you can see to this day from the viewing point next to the Sedona airport.
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Five o’clock and a faint light under the resort room curtains causes my eyes to open with a BLING! I am awake and won’t be able to get back to sleep. My wife hates that because she is NOT a morning person. So I use the light from my cell phone to find my glasses, clothes, and get dressed. I grab my laptop and quietly leave before I start singing or laughing to myself… which she can’t stand even more, this early.
I take the elevator down and walk through the quiet lobby where there is already some activity going on. A biker comes in wearing a knit, pulled down black ski mask type of hat. He’s walking stiffly, as if he has arthritis and was riding his hog too long.
I walk past the terrarium, a glass case with a single glass partition in the middle. One side holds a Gila Monster, the other, a King snake. Every morning I find them sleeping right next to each other. Two enemies sharing their warmth and company through a single pane of glass.
No sun yet. The sky is a uniform light grey. The mountains are dark silhouettes. The white Christmas tree lights illuminate the trunks of the palms. The birds are excited. They are singing and talking to each other. There are Morning Doves, and Jackdaws? An egret stands on the side of the pond; still puffed up as the morning air is cool and dewy. The Morning Doves and Jackdaws walk closely by me, looking for any food or tidbits that may fall off my empty table. In the distance, three ducks complain and fly off. A Ladder-back Woodpecker scolds me because I am in his territory.
There is a pond and the bowl of a very small valley before me. Short green golf course grass surrounds the pond, punctuated by sand traps, and a green fairway leads off to the horizon. It is all rimmed by small bushes, and short trees. The “rough” in which they are planted is a light sandy colored gravel. In the pond is a large modern sculpture. What I take to be a bird with a ring for a head is standing on a ball in the water. The ring is incised with pictographs.
Already the sounds of civilization impinge. Off to the left I hear construction machinery, and one of the resort staff whirrs by on his Segueway. A grounds maintenance worker rides around the rim of the bowl on his golf cart. I hear the warning peep peep peep of a vehicle backing up behind the building to the right.
The sky has lightened some. The beginnings of a soft chiaroscuro silhouette the mountains. They begin to take on their rose hue.
The light sensors on the palm trees have kicked in and the Christmas tree lights have gone out. The green of their strings blends in with their cork-like bark. A white man with an unleashed white poodle walks by and some kind-sounding words encourage her to walk over and sniff my outstretched hand. He says that’s doing pretty good for her.
A female duck with a lone chick swims around the edge of the pond and a fish roils the surface to snatch a bug. The duck is on land now and can’t understand why her little duckling can’t climb out. She waits patiently for it but ends up waddling back in to the water. A leather-back turtle paddles slowly by.
The sun is about to climb over the mountain. Now the chiaroscuro is lightning and the landscape has taken on definition. The sky has turned light blue and the rose has retreated to the horizon.
Car sounds Doppler the background. A Hispanic woman in neon green shorts, white tee-shirt and water bottle jogs by.
Dawn climbs over the mountain. The brilliant white light of the sun scintillates, turning everything gold and casting shadows. For a moment all the birds and I are silent and still.
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