JOYRIDE: Lessons on being high as a kite
“Live your life, sing your song, not full of expectations, not for the ovations, butt for the joy of it.” — Rasheed Ogunlaru
A stroll in the wildish outdoors can do wonders for a lonesome body and restless temperament, and I’d awakened from a night dream echoing uncertain themes. Being in Nature would be just the balm needed to reconnect with Spirit, mental hygiene and internal climate change. I knew just the place to go to dig into the earthy dirt of my uncomfortable feelings, to discover what needed redress.
I headed out to a grassy hill slope across from Shiloh Regional Park in Sonoma County, CA. The physical climb to my secret lookout felt good; so did resting up, stretching out afterwards. Warm, bright sunshine melted into my bones, my black cap shielded my cataracts. I let go into a wildish, intimate moment, and a song came to my mind. It was the 23rd Psalm from Robert Gass’ Ancient Mother album — a homage to Mother Goddess. Famously a meditation on faith and gratitude, the 23rd is a conjurer too of grace and joy. When I sing it, I switch back and forth between addressing Divine Masculine and Feminine, noticing what that stirs in me:
“The Lord is my Shepherd, I have all I need. He makes me lie down in green meadows, Beside the still waters He will lead.”
Well, no waters here, but lol, I sure am here in green meadows.
“She restores my soul, She rights my wrongs. Leads me in a path of good things, and fills my heart with song…”
What beautiful synchronicity, to be actually filled with song while singing lyrics to that effect! My heart sang on:
“Even though I walk through a dark and dreary land, there is nothing that can shake me. He has said He won’t forsake me. I am in His hand… She sets a table before me in the presence of my foes. She anoints my head with oil: My cup overflows.”
My singing subsided as I began to reflect on the world I inhabit… so many struggling to stay afloat, to feel peace, faith or dare to dream. I gazed across at the groves of trees dotting the hillside. So many were dried up, their trunks rotting, their long, skinny branches laced with lichens. Were they dead? Blackened too from the scourge of dragon wildfires. Surely a “dark and dreary” landscape, literally, figuratively… So am I trusting these days that I’m in greater Hands? Courageous in meeting the various foes and hurdles of daily life?
Well, here I lay in a beautiful setting, singing, feeling pretty darn blessed. I took a long deep breath as a large shadow passed over the ground around me; a black kite was flying overhead. “Hello!” I called out, pleased for the company. Hawks and cousin kites became messengers for me in ’91 when both my parents were terminally ill. I’d gone to L.A. hills one late afternoon, seeking peace and clarity. A soaring bird sailed in, staying close until I finally got a Message: It wasn’t flying all by itself, but with an invisible partner — the wind. “Trust what you can’t see to support you,” I Heard.
My current hillside kite swooped nearer, gliding, flapping, teasing me to join, to ride the currents of air. And to flap my wings now and then to adjust. On display was an innate trust of flying, of partnering with the invisible –the unknown, and yet knowing it’s safe to make the leap of faith! It’s in the genes to sail, surf the wind, take a joy glide, feel free, alive. Gratitude filled me, my cup surely was overflowing. And here came a second ‘sky ballerina’ (mate?) to second the motion! The humor was so perfection, a teeny tear moistened my left, often dry eye.
“Surely goodness and kindness will follow me, all the days of my life, and I will live in Her house forever and ever. Glory Be to the Father, Mother, and the Holy of Holies: As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be, world without end, Amen!”
Indeed! I was right with myself again, and with my world, and had been given a lovely shift-shaping practice: Imagine slipping into the wings of a magnificent sky-dancer, feeling high as a kite. Dance with Life, my Invisible Partner, in loving surrender, trusting what’s next. Shining deLight, Marcia
