Breathing at 4000 Feet

Two nights ago I drove east, driving for space, for clarity, for silence and the sacrality of my own sanity.  On winding country highways and over narrow bridges I made the climb from my city home which sits a hair above sea level and drove up, up, for 4000 feet.  When I finally put the Jeep in park, I sent BC a message as is wise when traipsing the back country:

"I'm out of town tonight.  Drove up 2, turned on a forestry road.  Wanted you to know." 

His response?

"Breathe."

Good man.  The very best in fact.

The air truly is different there, high in the Cascade Mountains.  I pulled as much of it into my lungs as I could, gulping down that raw, wild space.  And when I arrived home later that night, all those particles of mountain air were still flooding through my system, oxygenating my blood, pumping along through my head and heart.

Breathing at 4000 Feet Ring

(sterling silver and prehnite) 

I can't tell you what that air smells like, but I can build you a window.  A portal into that mountain high, a small place to stop and breathe when the world becomes too loud.  A tiny place to rest and feel the tall trees lift you up.

* * * 

I wish you a weekend of heart-space friends!  Be well! 

- U

The Magic Happened

This is where is begins, light sliding sideways, the steady hum of moths and crane flies, the evening aviary chorus, and this is where it goes: 

Cloud Gatherer Rings

(sterling silver and various North American turquoises) 

For there were days when the skies grew gray and the waters rose. She would lay in the tall grass, hearing the hum of ten thousand small wings and the cry of the land. With a deft and worn hand she would gather the clouds, weaving yet another cloak for the shelterless creatures, peeling back the mist for the sun to warm their bones. 

* * * 

(you'll find them in the etsy shop right now!) 

Ancestral Mythology Vol 2: People of the Owl

This is a story of our great grandmothers, of the days when the women still had feathers running down their spines, before we tucked them up below our shoulders blades and slept through the moonlight.

Not many remember this today, but there was a time when the Moon and her twin sister walked among the people.  The Moon showed the women the dark secret of the earth, when to plant, where to gather, how to sing the oysters up from the depths.  She would gather them to her each month, showing them how to dance the wildness into their souls and how blood beget life.  The Moon loved the People dearly, always returning after the day, after the sun, every night without fail.  

But the Moon's sister became jealous.  She was as fair skinned as the Moon, as silvery haired, she knew the ancient dances, she knew the secrets to life.  But she cared little for the People, and so the People stepped cautiously around her with averted eyes.  Her jealousy consumed her.  While the Moon slept and the Sun distracted the People with his dazzling presence, the Moon's sister crafted a plan.  She wrapped her sleeping sister in a black bear skin, tied tight with leather thongs, and threw her into the sky.  When evening fell, the darkness was complete.  The Moon was hidden from the People and they shivered in the blackness.

"Where is our sister?  Where is our mother-Moon? " the People cried in a panic.  They called out to the eagles, to the crows, to the sparrows, "Someone help!  The Moon has been stolen away!"  The eagles, the crows and the sparrows awoke and flapped out of their nests, but the darkness was complete and they stumbled without sight.  The People called to the bison, the bobcats, and the mule deer, "Help us, help us!"  But without even a glimmer of light, they were lost in the forest.  Finally the People called out, "Owl, Owl, help us find the Moon."

Now Owl was known as the seer, for Owl's eyesight was keener than any other living being.  She rolled her head side to side, from earth to sky, and caught the faintest twinkle high above the clouds.  She spread her great wings and flew, up and up, until the air was thin.  She flew until the earth pulled back below her and disappeared in the gloom of night.   She flew until she reached the bear skin hanging in the sky, and with her sharp small beak, she clipped right through the leather thongs.  The cloak fell away from the Moon and the earth was once again illuminated with her glow.  Owl tried to carry the Moon back to the earth, but the Moon knew her time to walk among the People had passed.

She kissed Owl on the forehead, and immediately the brown feathers turned bright white, and the sign of love ringed her face.  "Send my sister to me," commanded the Moon, "for though her heart is dark, she is still my kin and she shall live with me in the sky.  Return to the People, show them your face and they will see me in it.  Tell them to remember the truths I have shown them."

And Owl did everything just as the Moon said.  Now, every month, the Moon dances with her sister across the night sky, swinging each other around through light and darkness that neither outshine the other. 

And that dear children, is how we became a People of the Owl. 

Ancestral Mythology: People of the Owl

(sterling silver, kyanite, larimar, and aquamarine) 

* * * 

On Love and other Small Fortunes

The Anthology of Pocket Sized Fortunes

A Postcard Pack of Collections!! 

For the last year I've had so many lovely friends request another pack of postcards for the etsy shop - and for about as long, I've been jonesing to create one! 

I am a collector of curiosities; there is no other way to admit it. These cards are full of the small treasures I fill my home with, gifts from nature slipped into pockets, treasured items from dear friends who know me well, bits of the natural world that give me pause, objects d'art that make my heart flutter.  Creating these wee vignettes is such pure play for me; I ransack the mantles, window ledges, side tables, studio corners and naturally, every pant pocket, gathering up a host of treasures on the dining table.  I hem, I haw, I try this with that, I take those out and add these.  I sip more coffee, I dig through jars of sea glass.  And before I know it, I've spent the better part of a day just having fun.  True, light-hearted, nimble fingered play and an every refreshed love for this world I'm blessed to wander.

* * *

Agape Rings

(sterling silver and rose quartz)

We all love.  We love puppy tails, peonies, sherbet colored sunsets, that first hot beverage of the day, the feel of a cool breeze when the day is warm.  We love our chosen families, the friends who meet us for dinner, the people who inspire, the ones who shower us with love.  I have no doubt that every single one of us loves, and loves in spades.  But every now and then, love is tricky.  We forget to turn that shining beacon of love we project to our favorites upon our selves.  Self-love takes intention, and in my life, continual reminding that I am worthy of love, worthy of 

my

kindness,

my

gentleness,

my own

unconditional love.  It's a practice new every day, and just in case you are practicing too, I made these rings.  

The tallest domes of rose quartz you ever did see, luminous, vibrant, and rising up high.  Stacks of sterling silver swirling and flowing out, up the arm, straight up to your own heart.  She's light but you'll know she's there, delicate, but substantial enough to pack a love-filled punch.  As I worked on these, I filled my heart with so much love for the fingers who will wear them and soldered in little prayers that they remember to love themselves whole.

* * *

(you can find both the postcard packs and the agape rings in 

the shop right here

!)

I wish you a cheery Tuesday birds!

~ U ~

Ancestral Mythology, Vol 1.

This is a story of the People.

*

Long, long ago when the earth was still bright eyed and the People did not yet know Her fullness, the sun shone harsh and baked the soil.  For weeks the People stood with parched tongues at the valley edge, watching the storm clouds high above the mountain range.  High, higher than anyone had dared climb, so high their eyes watered and wept, so high the trees sighed and released their leaves.  In the valley the grasses withered and the children cried out for the hunger in their bellies.  The women huddled and in hushed tones wondered where to lead their tribe. 

The eldest woman cried out "Deer Mother, Deer Mother, how do we save our babies?  Where will we lead our men?"  And so Deer ran down from the trees and walked among the People, noting their empty baskets and innocent hearts.  She looked to the high mountains, flowering and lush.

"You must travel North," Deer said, "You must follow the rain for in its path the land springs green eternal.

"But we can not climb so high" lamented the People.  "Our feet are too broad for the narrow trails, our toes too tender for the shale.  Our legs are not strong enough for those steep sides and we shall surely fall to our death."

Deer looked at the People with their wide open eyes full of hope and fear.

"Climb," she said, dropping to her knees.  "Climb and I will carry you."  And so the People clambered upon her back, the young, the old, the men, the women.  She carried them high, higher than any had ever traveled before, so high that when the People turned they saw the whole of the Earth stretched out before them and their eyes were opened to Her fullness.  Deer carried them until the air was scented with the tang of damp loam and the grasses grew thick and dark.  The People slid off her back, kissed her neck, and ate their fill.

*

And that child, is how we became a People of the Deer.

Ancestral Mythology: People of the Deer

(sterling silver, prehnite, amazonite, and gaspeite)