WOOD CRAFTING Part 2 The Ledge continues ... Installment #4 Lokea Bird

I have saved the sharing of Part 2 "The Ledge" until now. Soon, the Ledge will become a history that will be recalled with selective tinkerings. The vessel of authorship is a collaboration between the sources of knowing and the the dense network that might be called perceiving reality. The fairy tale of Wood Crafting wrote itself while the life we had known up till that Spring became part of Nature's cycles. Neither Pete nor I had ever experienced the deep quiet, deep dark and starry skies or the richness of life that teems in the woods.

My spiritual life has always been rich, and my imagination broad. Life on the Ledge took hold of me and truly began to reassemble my hold on what is important. This next installment describe the character Lokea Bird come to rest on the ledge in the woods.

WOOD CRAFTING

Written by Mokihana Calizar
Copyright, 2009

Please enjoy the tale for your own pleasure,
but do not reprint it or copy it for any other purpose without permission from the author.

(see the sidebar for my contact info)

Lokea Bird

Weariness wore her like wet wool, shoulders rounded into her full chest, Lokea was tired. The years of wandering had filled her with sights and sounds from dozens of places on the Great Planet. It was her destiny to seek and find the many ways in which mortal kind had used, or abused the treasures of Grace. The slightly sadistic humor of The Creators, as I view mortal destiny, lies in the erasures to coil memory The Creators leave when humans are born. Unlike the eggs and hatchlings of covey and warren where newly birthed Wood Crafters arrive fully aware and with total memory of their warming and their grace, human coil is braided with a miniscule space … a missing link. I have been taught to remember the space as an erasure and a place where mortal will resides. Remember Geoff the Grand? He was a Grey, a blend of mortal and more. His story of reassembling hints at the adventures to come for Lokea Bird during her days and nights on The Ledge.

A great sigh of relief dropped from Lokea’s heart. “Made it.”Lokea exclaimed. She held tight to her friend Briscoe and both did a jig of celebration on the hard driveway between The Ledge and The Family’s mansion. Briscoe and her mate Baines were part of the mini-caravan following the dandelion wagon from the city to the woods. Briscoe and Baines, like Anna and Joshua were friends of a life-time. These were loyal and unwavering friends who took Lokea and Pat into their homes when no safe harbor existed. Without question and with open-hearts Briscoe, Baines, Anna and Joshua embraced without judgment. The Creators and the Fairy Folk watch episodes such as this. Lokea hung back on The Ledge after Baines and Pat had secured the vardo into place. Tears filled her old eyes, still vibrant though less brilliant. “Thank you Ke Akua and all the residents of this place,” her prayers were silent, conned as she had been taught she filled the space with her acknowledgment.

Tutu and Traveling Frog listened. Traveling Frog turned to look into the sky, searching for Tutu’s face. He saw in the lines of the ancient fir a smile of recollection. He saw the prayers enter the deep crevices of the ancient fir’s thick skin as she absorbed the appreciation. “Ah,” T.F. sighed to himself. “Family.” A round brocade purse with a zipper for an enclosure held the small collection of jewels Lokea still called her own. A heavy circle of yellow metal, a bracelet, lengths of colored beads and several shiny stones hung from golden filigree. The narrow pathway cleared around the vardo did not disturb the seedlings that sprouted below Tutu. From the brocade purse Lokea drew four pieces. Two shiny orange stones dangling from gold filigree were hung from the tiny limbs of a seedling hemlock. Along with the stones Lokea hung a silver ring with an oval of pink quartz. “Hope you like them!” She said, this time using voice. Two other jewels, these long thin ovals made of mother of pearl were hung on the branches of a small pine. Other treasures, sea shells from her ocean home were offered as indicators of the places from which she had lived before. “To let you know my lineage,” she said continuing her ceremony. That done, Lokea Bird raised her arms with conscious memory of her linkage to All, flapped her outstretched arms and spun in circles before nearly losing her balance. “Almost too old and worn to do that,” she said to no one in particular, felt a grin bubble across her face and satisfied with her offering went to the celebration beginning inside the mansion.

Holding Pattern and antennae up!

We're in a holding pattern today. The clouds have moved in and replaced the bright, action-packed days of Fall's first days. We have done a lot to search out our next encampment and are waiting on things, waiting to hear from people and waiting for the new coat of wax to dry on the outside of the vardo.

Between all the communication and activity of the first days of Fall several very interesting new bits have come our way. The issues of Earth beings' birthright to safe housing and safe living environment are primary concerns for those of us who live with the daily reality of 'having' neither. With our Kolea Nani life the search for creative ways to live gently on Earth while also navigating the systems and structures that have not yet been reassembled, we have our antennae poised, keenly aware of groups and individuals who ARE in the process of 'Reassembling.'
These activities have made themselves know to us. Shown up on the radar during our recent searches. Maybe they will be of interest to you, too.

Take Back The Air

Clean air is essential. Period. Our search for a winter encampment escalates our awareness that pollution on the Earth makes living with multiple chemical sensitivities just that much more challenging. I learned about this group during a recent The Canary Report chat. While we were on our scouting trip to the Oregon coast I shared this link with our new MCS friend. She had heard of them ... perhaps that additional chirp will connect the west coast activists to link with these flatlander folk.

Here's what this group is all about: From their home page their purpose is ...

"We are a Minneapolis grassroots organization dedicated to cleaning up the Top Neighborhood

Air Polluters that invade other people's airspace without their permission, exacerbating asthma and causing a host of other health problems.

The top polluters are:

• Wood smoke
• Fragrances
• Scented Laundry Products
• Lawn Chemicals
• Charcoal Grills
• Lawn Mower Exhaust"

Alternative Refuge. Com

Last night or very early in the morning when I was awake before the sun I found this link to a Connecticut group focusing their energy on building environmentally sensitive, affordable homes for people with environmental illness. Again, this link came from my Canary network; someone who knows we are looking for the creative and perhaps not yet created alternative refuge.

I have just begun to skim the website and found it thoughtfully focused and it appears the principal folk involved in this new project have experience with the systems of 'charitable works', governmental systems and navigating the process of funding and bridge-building. There is a survey included on this website that asks for input. Specifically it is supposed (sorry, my laptop is low, low on memory and capacity and I cannot load pdf files ... which this survey is) to be asking for income information. Many of us (including these two old dears) live on annual incomes of less than $15,000 a year. This survey is part of there research and development process. Anyone out there who can download pdf files, and is interested in this project ... I'd love to know what this survey includes.

Alternative Refuge includes the tab on their website

Housing for the Environmentally Sensitive

Or Why is my house hurting me?

There might be something good happening here. It's worth a look see and perhaps a usable resource for our Earth Sensitives.

Habitats Hawaii

Again, yesterday during the Mercury doing its thing with Uranus day of things happening in the sky. A good friend of us emailed us the link to this site. He said, "Have you seen this?" I clicked on it, and answered him. "No, we hadn't"

When we opened the page it was like looking at our own Kolea Nani's twin ... only this vardo called Hele Mai (in Hawaiian it translates, "Welcome, come come!") Habitat was recently built on the island of Hawaii. This newly developing island-based business is working with the Reassembling genes. I began communicating with Barrie Rose from Habitats Hawaii last night, and I hope this will be the beginning of a mutually enlightening community building experience.

The wheelie home is beautiful and includes some very fine touches ... it's the outdoor shower on that vardo I LOVE! The seeds of Reassembling are being sown all over Earth. While we are searching, the vibe of these positive probabilities are showing up. Attracting like energy and having the allies to support the Earthly efforts that is good juju.

On hold and spreading the news. Aloha, Mokihana

WOOD CRAFTING Installment 4 : Part I continues "Reassembling"

The eco-tale WOOD CRAFTING has begun to spin a whirl of characters in a setting that is the place called Ever. Inspired by the small act of entitlement ... a human woman's wish to have a bit of rusty treasure, this story considers just how much 'entitlement' human kind has assumed. Thus far, the story has introduced the beings called Wood Crafters an ancient race of beings who have watched the mortals from their wee places of covey and warrens. Not unlike any good fairy tale there are characters of fancy and purpose. Several have been introduced in the previous three installments: Shenia Wood, storyteller Shemaladia of Osprey, Grey Huntress of Loss Souls, (Shenia's mother), Freeilll Noa of the South, Grey Wood Crafter of the Islands (Shenia's Father), Oona of the Song, Somaia of the South ... and others.

The tale is really just begun with so many more threads to be wound and stitches to be made. This next part lays a bit of legacy a clue to the plot I suppose. "Reassembling ... a major theme is given some history with today's installment. Read the previous installments by linking here.

WOOD CRAFTING

Written by Mokihana Calizar
Copyright, 2009

Please enjoy the tale for your own pleasure,
but do not reprint it or copy it for any other purpose without permission from the author.

(see the sidebar for my contact info)

INSTALLMENT 4: "Reassembling"

The process of Reassembling is a tradition of longevity in the beliefs of Beings throughout Ever. Perhaps like the word used so frequently on the Great Planet today, Reassembling is a version of Recycling beliefs and attitudes that no longer served the original design of Creation. Bits of the original belief or attitude might have sustaining value. Rather than throw the whole kit and caboodle out, to become part of the Cosmic Heap, the wise Creators gave us the inspiration to simply reassemble and start again without too harsh a melt-down, if at all possible. Early in the history that I have learned to sing, the Reassembling involved the belief that loudness was power and domination simply a natural consequence of enveloping All. Loudness became the same as Most Feared and Most Feared became those in Control. Until, as the story grew, a very small being with ears nearly as large as his body, found no use for loud in any form.

It seems, in this early Reassembling, the small being with the very large ears happened upon a giant in the bottom of a very large hole. The hole was actually a pit the giant had dug weeks before, a trap for unsuspecting creatures who would become dinner or unwilling servants. Now, yes, this song is a very old one where Beings had not yet learned the civility of Wood Crafting today. What serves this story though is the process of reassembling beliefs that began with a very small being with ears nearly as large as his body finding no use for loud in any form. That night when the very small being with ears nearly as large as his body happened upon the giant at the bottom of the very large hole, it was the sound of the giant’s very loud voice that rattled the mouse from her warren not from the ditch.

“Aaaaaahhhhhhh. GET ME OUT,” the giant bellowed. Over and over again the giant bellowed “Aaaaaahhhh. GET ME OUT.” No one came near, fearing for their safety all being simply closed down their hatches, dug deeper into their burrows, flew off for higher limbs. But no one came near, no one came to help. The moon was nearly full that night when the giant fell into the hole that he had dug for creatures smaller than he, a trap. He was caught in a trap of his own making. By the time the moon had risen to her full height, Mosea, the mouse had had just about enough of the loud. To be truthful, her ears had begun to ring so loudly, the giant’s bellows were now not nearly as loud as the ringing in her ears. From the edge of the pitch Mosea leaned over to speak to the giant. Now this had never happened in any night in memory, but this is the way I was taught to remember it. Mosea, the mouse at her loudest had a voice that was barely a breeze to the ears of a giant as big as Geoff the Grand. “You have frightened the beings of All from you, Geoff the Grand. No one will come near. No one will help you. What good is your loudness now? Can you hear me?” At first, Geoff the Grand heard nothing but his own loud voice. Mosea, the mouse repeated, “You have frightened the beings of All from you, Geoff the Grand. No one will come near. No one will help you. What good is your loudness now? Can you hear me?” This time, the giant thought he heard squeaks and noticed two round red eyes looking down at him from the edge of the hole. Instead of bellowing again, Geoff the Grand stopped, and was silent. Mosea repeated her cant.

This time Geoff the Grand, who was actually the son of a once kindly pair, softened with the silence. The gentle voice of Mosea the mouse touched a place within him that was cold as ice crystal. With each moment of silence the giant’s heart warmed and began beating radiant beams of light throughout his great body. Mosea’s small red eyes watched, her nose and whiskers twitched as if tracking a piece of prized morsel. After what seemed an eternity, Geoff the Grand was now aglow from the top of his bright red head to the boots of his enormous feet. Instead of loud words chiseled into the space of Ever, the giant conned a plea of help in the direction of the hole’s edge. Without the slightest utterance Mosea felt Geoff the Grand in her own heart, “I am in trouble friend. I will need your help to get out of this hole. Is there a stout rope or vine strong enough and long enough on which I could climb? Please help me.” Mosea the mouse knew exactly what she would do.

The trees of the ancient Banyan hung thick with air roots the thickness of which could easily allow Geoff the Grand to climb. With no wasted motion, Mosea crossed the dark wood and tapped at the base of one such ancient Banyan. She explained the unlikely circumstances and since Banyan was a being nearly as old as time itself, the story amused the great tree and permission was granted. “Thank you kind one. Please draw in your light as I cut through the limb of your powerful root.” Mosea scaled the largest of air roots and gnawed expertly when she felt the Banyan’s light drawn from the root. The root fell with a thunderous collapse. Now the question of how to get the root to the pit was the challenge. By this time, the beings of the Wood had awakened to Mosea’s situation. The colonies of Ants came to Mosea and without being asked, thousands of tiny Ants slipped under the length of root and lifted the great weight to the edge and over the side of the hole. Aina the young golden owl, who in normal circumstances would view Mosea as a tasty snack, knew tonight was not a normal night. From her home in the heights of the cedar bows the owl caught hold of the end of the air root and circled that end to the trunk of the Banyan, knotting it expertly to secure the root.

The heavy air root arrived at Geoff the Grand’s boots; the one thousand ants crawled from under and waited for the giant to grab hold. When Geoff’s two enormous hands had firm grip, the ants clambered quickly and silently to the edge, a signal for the Banyan to stand firm her ground. Mosea spoke down to Geoff, “Now we are ready for you,” is all she said. Hand over fist Geoff slowly pulled his great weight from the bottom of the pit. His muscles strained to hoist his bulk from the hole, but he was agile and well muscled, and with the air root firmed wrapped around the Banyan’s trunk Geoff was quickly top-side.

The whole of the Wood waited at the rim of the big pit. Mosea was the first to speak as Geoff heaved his big black boots over the sides and rolled the rest of him to the sweet wood’s floor. “You have been Reassembled Geoff the Grand. Tonight is a very good night for All.” Geoff’s heart beat hard and clear, the beings of the Wood could hear the sound and felt it equally as well. It was a deep sound, a rich sound and from that night forward it was the loudest sound anyone would hear from the giant. The grand giant had lost his voice and found his heart.

ENCAMPMENT on The Ledge in the Woods

Encampment on The Ledge. This is how we are stretching our lives onto the slope of earth that is The Ledge. Jots the Panther (renamed 'Panther' after a month of becoming her wild again feline self) has her own vardo carrier home on the porch (to the left of the door). A row of pegs on the front wall hold our outside clothes. The Hawaiian Moon Calendar is pinned prominently on the opposite wall ... reminding us to 'stay connected.' The shiny new metal garbage can is our "pantry" a place to keep our grains, tea and spices dry from the rain and moisture and safely out of reach of the other critters who would just as soon eat our food as find some in other part of the Woods. Conduit and our ancient tarp are the temporary cover for our kitchen on The Ledge. We have work to do on the kitchen ... that would account for us being in Seattle right now. We need supplies to continue piecing together the extensions of our living from the vardo.

Inside VardoForTwo the nature of Reassembling our lives includes making changes when my body signals sensitivity to 'something.' Where once hung our old golden curtains of times not long past, our loyal moss green flannel sheet is now window coverings. The golden curtains are a blend of polyester and cotton and have built into them the formaldahyde-infused base that make them 'wrinkle resistant.' The chemicals off-gas for eons and when heated (by our ceramic heater or sunlight) the gasses splay and are absorbed into the skin. The curtains have been recycled to an outdoor life where the trees, fresh air and abundant rainfall neutralize them with more time.

Magical mystery ... we are part of the magic here on The Ledge. This is a view from the window of our front door ... in the mist is the Pond.

We have taken ourselves out of the Woods today, driving the length of road and a ferry ride to bring us back to the city. The weekly deep rains test our adjustment genes ... with everything soaked outside and only a wee space to be dry, old habits of random access to comfort rattle us. We have come so far on the path and there is more yet. What has made things magical for me are the silence, the sounds of critters who are there on The Ledge curious about our intentions. My imagination is fed and a book grows with all the magic as fuel. I will share bits and snips of that book over the time to come.

Be well and be easy.
Aloha, Mokihana