The Star

After the chaos of the past year when so much of the world became a desert of drought, destoying vast tracts of farmlands, then burning trees and animals. Rain should be welcome, but it slides away into floods. A jungle of fear grows, invasive vines entwine trees of hope until a dry stone mountain of worry must be climbed. Great celestrial jugs are needed to gather and bathe the world in creative energy.

Parched from the lump in her throat that won’t let water pass, she begins to pour water from one jug to another until fear passes and she can drink, letting her body be the third jug in the sequence of pouring. Now, at 17, she can’t stop being one with the cycle, opening her body as a conduit for emptying and filling. She is amazed at the potential of her body to hold and generously release this life giving energy back into the cycles of the world, knowing what she offers is needed. She is keeping the desert spring full and clear by maintaining FLOW like a drummer who keeps the beat for music that fulfills our need for inspiration.

Sing the Promise of Flowing Waters

The Star

We praise spring waters on bended knee,
reminded again of the mythic Ark.
Something’s born in all of us from the sea.

Streams sing their promise to the trees.
As the cycle passes the equinox mark,
something’s born in us before we see.

The early glimmer of what will be
pulses through tunnels of winter dark.
We praise falling water on bended knee

The sun gives notice to humming bees.
They shiver when the unfolding starts.
Something’s known to them before they see.

As gathering light sets us free,
water flows through streams and parks.
We praise spring water on bended knee.
Something’s born in us that lets us see.

The Water Dream

We can’t leave now; the rain is pelting. Look out there. Where would we go?

Those teetering trees will eventually break and the pieces of roof now flying about will eventually smash into the very windows you are looking out.

Still, I’m optimistic, this will pass. We don’t need to get wet. The report just before the internet went down said the road were impassable from fallen debris so we can’t drive away anyway….

OK, you need to get rational, keep track of the road along our wall. When the water running there obscures the road we need to leave before it becomes a river. We can’t swim for an escape from rain. …

Oh Dear! Suddenly I can’t see the road. How did that happen so fast?

The bridge up the hill probably trapped debris that became a dam, then something big smashed a hole in the dam or the bridge itself, so all the water was released in a gushing wave.

So the water will recede when that pent up water flows away. Things will calm down in a bit.

I used to love your “all will be alright spirit” but this is ridiculous. How have you lived so long with so little survival instinct?

OK, I see you are worried, let’s start planning. What should I wear for our escape? Take that look off your face! I don’t mean beauty or fashion. It’s cold outside and we might have to swim. Clothes to keep us warm would help us drown but dying of hypothermia isn’t pleasant either. What is your preference?

You are still procrastinating because you don’t want to go out there at all. To answer your first question- We will walk uphill through neighbor’s yards, not the road, until we get to that house that was built into the hill. That is safer than our stilted house with glass for views. If the basement of their house is as safe as I imagine and they let us in, we will be better off than here. Of course, their basement could already be flooded depending on their construction.

So, I should wear warm clothes and take some food to share? I have some nice cheeses, maybe some wine?

Darling, escaping with our lives does not include brie…. now you cry? not over the terrifying rogue hurricane, but I hurt your feelings? Please try to get some perspective.
Wear your yoga gear for insulation in case we are forced to swim, include our surf socks if you can find them quickly. Then your down vest that insulates even when wet and your light raincoat with the hood and your baseball cap to keep the hood out of your eyes. Put credit cards and ID in your bra where you are unlikely to lose them. I will put the house and car key in that zip pocket of my swim trunks…

I’m ready. It might seem weird to bring a bottle of water in all this rain, but we don’t want to drink polluted water. I put some wrapped energy bars in my raincoat pocket and some of those hand warmers from skiing. Rational enough for you?

Yes, once you give up your fantasies, you can be quick…unless now you are having a fantasy about the adventure we are about to take. Actually, that’s ok, it will keep you from hyperventilating when we hit that wall of rain outside. Just to be clear, this is going to be hard so one last precaution…I am tying this rope to both of us so we can’t lose each other, I want you to keep this Swiss army knife in your pocket if something happens that makes it more dangerous for you to stay connected to me than not… You will know if that time comes.

Yes, it doesn’t make sense for us to hold hands while swimming. I’ll need both hands free to eat brie.

That’s the spirit. Now out the back door, keep an eye out for flying debris.

Oh, my god, what was that huge black thing that just hit you?

Just a garbage bag, didn’t hurt. But the road is a river now with all kinds of stuff whirling in it. Good thing we have this back yard way. We might have to climb some fences if they haven’t blown over. The water is already deeper than I expected. We are moving against the current so move as fast as you can but hold onto our rope, so you don’t fall over.

There is a big tree ahead that fell into that house and is creating a dam on the uphill side. Their fence went down with it so maybe we can hold onto the outer branches and find a door to check on them.

No one here, and no car in the garage, they must have left before it got so bad. I don’t know whether to envy their prudence or feel sorry for them about the destroyed house. Both I guess.

It is harder to keep moving uphill. Did the wind shift so its pushing us back or am I just getting tired? Both I guess.

So now you are making fun in the midst of our struggle. I knew you hadn’t given up your fantasy about this being an adventure not a struggle.

Oh, that big tree made the struggle real, but I am feeling grateful it wasn’t our house…at least not yet. I am actually pleased that we have the energy to do this in our late seventies. I see our destination ahead. I just hope they let us share their basement until the storm lets up.

There is too much wind for us to make it around to the front of the house so I am just going to try the back basement door….locked. Shit! I see the furniture floating around in there. I guess they didn’t build for this kind of flooding. The rest of the house is no safer than ours. I see flying debris has already smashed many of their upper windows. I am guessing they fled when the basement started filling up. No movement inside.

We are going to get smashed by that flying debris if we don’t find safe shelter soon.

Alright I have another alternative. We are going to head to the railroad overpass a little further up the hill.

You think trains are running?

Of course not. Watch your step, we can’t afford for either of us to break an ankle when we can’t see what is under our feet.

Oh my god, you just stepped into their swimming pool. Your raincoat is pulling you down. Move toward me till you find the edge. I must be standing close to it, and I am braced, sort of. I think they built stairs right into the pool. Follow the edge and see if you can locate steps or a ladder with your feet. I will stay with our rope as you move… Yes! you found them! This is the scariest thing that happened all day. The idea of losing you. And discovering I don’t have the strength to pull you out with the rope or my hands. You know, I would never have cut the rope even if I was pulled in after you.

At least I couldn’t get any more wet than I already was. Glad I double bagged the phone.

Now see who is looking on the bright side. We are a good pair. Why are we heading toward the railroad?

They build those bridges really strong, unlikely to be swept away. It may be high enough on the hill not to be flooded by the run off and we can hunker down under it until the storm passes.

We can’t build a fire with no dry wood, but I put a couple of those space blankets in my pocket just in case.

I guess you came better prepared for our “adventure” than I imagined.

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