Just as an FYI to those of you who have followed me here … now that The Rides are over, and I’ve settled into a new home in the high mountain desert of northern NM, I’ve begun a new blog. I admit, I am not writing as often there as I did here … but occasionally I still do. So if you’re interested in continuing to follow the musings of this Raven, please click on the image below……
“Forget about trying to compete with someone else. Create your own pathway. Create your own new vision.”
~ Herbie Hancock
As those of you who follow my Facebook page(s) may already know, I have decided to dramatically shorten this “Ride” and head from my current stop in Ohio straight to New Mexico … where I’ll be settling into a new journey – and the beginning of the remainder of my years here on Earth. Though I’ve lived alone for the last 30 years and always had a good sense of self, the original “Ride” – and subsequent time spent back in NY State – solidified that discernment and self-knowledge, and I came to recognize my spirit gently whispering that it was time to step into this last third of my life as a new creation … to truly begin to live full to who and what I am, and establish myself where and how I want it to be. I’d known this intrinsically for quite some time, but as I’d received dozens of invitations and had acceded to do another Ride, I felt obligated to follow through. As time went on, however, I knew … or rather, I grew to accept …that this Ride is indeed over, and I am to enjoy the journey of being home. It’s possible I may meander again on occasion, as there are many who I’d like to share time and stories with, and wonderful places to see ……… but, if I do, the next time it will be from a home-base, to which I’ll return afterward.
I truly believe that our Lives have many paths and trails, many roads and voyages to endeavour upon until our last heartbeat, and that final passage to whatever lies ahead. For most of us, our purpose changes over the course of time. No one segment – or other or prior direction – was “wrong,” but rather it is simply that we have an infinite number of gateways in our journey … and we enter these at different times of our lives. Some do have a singular path, an exclusive and unique purpose they are born into … no doubt, for many artists, scientists, priests and monks this is true … but for me, I find the upcoming evolution exciting and liberating. I have many passions and objectives that I’m looking forward to enjoying and fulfilling in the days, weeks, months and years ahead.
It’s a new day, a new journey, and I look forward to returning to where my Heart soars: To live, hike, photograph, paint and write in a land filled with unbounded Spirit, and to dance in that light. To putting my boots back on those trails and my voice lifting to sing with the Ravens once more.
Thank you all, once again, for having come along on the most amazing and wonderful “Ride” I could have ever imagined. With love, Ravensong. ❤
if you move carefully
through the forest,
like the ones
in the old stories,
who could cross
a shimmering bed of leaves
without a sound,
to a place
whose only task
is to trouble you
but frightening requests,
conceived out of nowhere
but in this place
beginning to lead everywhere.
~ excerpted from “Sometimes” by David Whyte
As a new “Ride” begins again tomorrow morning, I thought it fun to re-post a short video I put together of the first part of the first Ride. I cannot share it directly to this blog (unless I upgrade), so you will have to check it out via a YouTube link. It truly was such a delight to have been a part of these moments and lives, now almost three years ago … and I look forward to more times of connection, conversation, and sharing in the the weeks and months that are to come with “The Ride II…”
Video link: The Ride, Pt. I
“Someone asked me yesterday, What was the happiest time of your life?
I said, What? The happiest time?
Why do you tie ‘time’ with ‘happiness’?
I am happiness.”
~ Sri Sri Ravi Shankar
Just three more days to go, and The Ride II begins as my horseless wagon and I hit the road once again. Time for the final organizing and making-sure-it-all-fits before I start loading; a final load of laundry, a washing and waxing of Miss Gracie, and last lunches and dinners with friends. All my worldly goods – all I own – now lie within those silver lines (and just 28″ high) on the floor of my spare room. You know, the truth-of-the-matter is we don’t need nearly as much as we think we do to be deeply and genuinely happy. No, not even close.
“… all the knowledge gathered from your past has finally enabled you to arrive here with everything you need to begin the great work, no matter how old you are. It will take a long time;
it might take the rest of your life.”
~ Jonathan Carroll
Yesterday, Miss Gracie received another clean bill of health from my mechanic … the last one before our journey. And yesterday, I said my goodbyes to Lady Seneca. As I stood by her shores, the wonderful, wet scents of midsummer swirled ’round me … the waves were big, crashing as if ocean tides on the rocks. The gulls skreed, the herons winged their way home. The mallard couples watched their young as they learn to paddle. There is no doubt I will miss these green hills and temperamental waters, the changing of blues to greens to grays; and in many ways Geneva will always be home to my heart and soul … but there is also no doubt that it is time to move on, to strike out as my own ancestors did several hundred, and some even a thousand, years ago to find new lands, and a new home.
Later that afternoon, a providential moment told me all I needed to know: On the way home, I stopped at my Grandmother’s grave for one last “Goodbye.” As many of you know, she helped raise me for seven years and was the only stability I had in my young life. As I crouched by her gravestone, whispering my gratitude and farewell, tears began to sting my eyes … in that moment, I realized I’d never actually said goodbye before, though she has been gone since 1979 and I’d left – and returned – a few times. I thought I had, but I’d never truly let go in my heart. This time, 39 years later, it was different. And I knew it.
Standing up, I touched my lips to my fingers, blew a kiss and turned to go. Suddenly I saw a beautiful deep red rosebush in full bloom, just a few grave markers away. My Grandmother adored her roses … she had dozens of bushes, but most especially loved those flushed crimson ones. The ones with petals soft as velvet and a scent that lingers in one’s soul forever. She and I spent many hours caring for them when I was a child. We’d follow the horse trails, collecting the dried manure, we’d prune the bushes with love and conversation, and she’d often pick a prized bloom and gently float it in a crystal bowl to adorn our dining room table. It was her luxury. When I moved to NY in 2002, I’d promised that I would plant a rose bush at her grave … of course, I never got around to it. Time passes so quickly, and I was always too busy. But here, within a few dozen feet, stood this exquisite thicket of red. In all the times I’d visited that spot, I’d never seen it before. In deeply humble gratitude, I silently plucked two …
One for she. One for me. Thank you, Grandma.