Creatures of the fields


Here in the Cornhusker State of Nebraska there is a lot of corn. Hundreds of miles of corn fed by these huge creatures. Some of the fields are marked by signs like Pioneer or DeKalb; the branding and patented plants of the behemoths of Dupont and Monsanto.

Farming here looks highly industrialized and massive in scale. Could it be that the wonder product “high fructose corn syrup” is created here in these green fields?
Green rectangles of uniform corn plants, consistent size, shape; the sameness of these “natural forms” is numbing. Not so numbing to allow us to miss the Cargill plants. The smell, the smoke, the endless passing of empty cattle carriers. I am grateful not to have seen them on their path to the slaughterhouse. Even empty, the scent of something nameless hovers around these trailers like a swarm of flies. We all know Cargill as one of the several massive meat product processors who create “value added meat products” Think pink slime.

I noted on our diagonal trip across Nebraska that a line of evergreens denotes either a feedlot or a slaughterhouse. Avert you eyes as you pass, hold your nose. There is something so completely in opposition to a cow living his life in a field, being taken to slaughter by the family that raised it, or a hunter stalking and killing the creature that will feed his family. This practice of feedlot: mass slaughter, hormones and antibiotics, ( because the feedlot is a place for sick cows too) Is it really OK to eat an animal that we have so completely disrespected?

Oh Dam, it’s windy

Oh Dam, it's windy

First night out, here we are beneath a large dam built by the Army Corps of Engineers in Southeast Colorado. I wonder if they ever camp here, UNDER the dam? We have learned much today: items may have shifted in flight, cows do some strange things left to their own devices in miles of open range and….why does the antelope cross the road?
We learned that the GPS woman is probably correct and if you think you may be on the wrong road, check on that sooner rather than later. We learned that without irrigation green Colorado turns into brown Colorado and it blows dust around just like New Mexico.
I had my “blow the big RV across the road” wind storm initiation today. Glad that’s over with. Taking a shower in an RV is like trying to wash your body before you are born. Tomorrow is another day. Destination Mormon Island Nebraska!

Office visitor


We bought this painting four years ago at the Indian Market in Santa Fe, just before I opened my first office. The painter is Wallace Begay, of the Navaho Nation. He told me that this is his image of this creation spirit in their pantheon. He comes in and out of manifestation as needed, was the way I understood him.

I thought this Osiris counterpart would be a great resource for a therapy office where epiphanies move through like thunderstorms in August. Huge great thunderings and flowing tears, then the sun comes back out. Sometimes the shadow side just slips in and winks at us before it disappears again. I always hung him where I could see him, as a reminder of what is possible. He stood behind the client, and they were mostly unaware of what and who they leaned into.

Right now He is “all wrapped up” with a painting of mine from the 90s of an Adirondack rock face. This is what the client saw from their “comfy” chair. The rocks and trees are comfortable concrete landmarks of the physical world. Clients have told me that there are caves to hide in, and cliffs to climb in that scene. Those two paintings; the manifest and the unmanifest, the tangible and intangible are both on their way to STORAGE this morning. Is my image of him perched on a six foot stack of boxes and furniture, legs crossed, smoking a pipe just an illusion? I believe It will all just wait.

Waiting…. without impatience, without the desire to know When, or even How is a highly refined and respected attribute of some people we have known, particularly Native people. The alignment of human actions and intentions with the workings of the universe is an ancient practice that requires that the ego play second fiddle to the intuition and the love of the divine.

Without preplanning or research our mini-exodus has all aligned on the most auspicious time. On Friday, when Sirius rises over the horizon in the early morning, magic will manifest. The Nile will begin its annual flood, eagle bone whistles will be heard someplace up north and two boys will be “adopted” by our family. Forever and always to be claimed as Matneys and Martells because their parents, Kelly and Luke, knew they were waiting for them, and they went in search of their children.

No fairytale has had more peril and potential heartbreak than this Hero’s Journey. But this is a happy ending. Not only have wandering members of our ancient tribe been returned to us, they have brought their joyful beautiful sister Allison Eva with them. Courage has its own rewards.

Intuition. Waiting. Alignment. Courage. Destiny. Divine intervention. = Manifesting?

Alignment makes it easy, alignment makes it work

July 22 – 28 (one week) (—july.html)
The ancient Greeks celebrate this week as the Panatheneia, or “All Athenes”, honoring the beloved Goddess of Athens in her roles as giver of wisdom and sender of inspiration.

And in her Roman manifestation, her name is Minerva. Why Roman and not Greek? Why are we packing Minerva and not Athene with clothes and books and enough technology to qualify for a stealth mission? As much as we might want to align to the beauty and perfection of the Greek thought, this trip and this time is really more Roman.

I was set up for this by the toss of the genes; I have the Lantz “Itchy feet.” This family name comes from Alsace, then French and now a German place; site of Roman invasion. One of those soldiers carried a Lance and so became Lantz. This tribe on Mom’s side are notorious travelers, wanderers, nomads. Nothing so compelling as the other side of the hill. There are some in Australia, California, even New Mexico. Three generations ago they packed up and tried North Dakota on a homestead until ” the cold and the grasshoppers drove them home to Pennsylvania.” Where I would add, one can actually GROW something!

And Larry….an Eastern European gene pool doesn’t explain this Bacchus affiliate. There are clearly gypsies among us! There is a card in the Tarot that is named Lust, as in a “lust for life.” All smiles aside it comes from Lustre, gold, the purest form, the product of Alchemy, a reflection of inner strength. This is a man in search of his true nature, and there is no higher calling.

So, it is a wise move to align with a giver of wisdom …Minerva…when we are embarking on an unknown path. Seems this timing was created by appointments and reservations, some made made months ago. But that is the human hubris that suggests that we even have a clue about what is really going on….

Warming up the lamp

“Warming up the lamp” entered our family’s lexicon sometime in the late 1990s.  Back in these ancient times, printers were large, slow and chatty. We stretched the meaning beyond the preparation to scan or print, into a familial expression for getting ready for the creation of something new. It was a 3 minute pause and a hopeful inhalation before experiencing the fruits of your labor.  Our at least the reality of your best intentions.

In our current manifestation we are “warming up the lamp” for our next chapter.  Packing things, sorting things, tossing things; we are sharply aware that these are only things.  They are however our sacred relics of people and homes now past, gone, and out of reach. The last box packed tonight; a heavy Cave rock from my Mother’s treasures, wrapped in a placemat made by our daughter, all nestled in a basket from an old friend. In my hand rests a tin protecting a carved wood dachshund from Pa, my beloved Grandpa, and a clay Puma from New Mexico. The former from my childhood, the latter a thrift store find purchased  to imbue my office space with keen senses, smart stealth and courage in dark places.

At the bottom of the box lies a beautiful tile of Jewish symbology from a shop on the Plaza in Santa Fe.  Five years ago we were excited to bring this to my Mother in law for Hanukah.   She lived in Florida then.  I recall how the vivid Southwestern colors looked exotic amidst the pale pastels and palm trees.  We wrapped it in Ft Lauderdale’s Sun Sentinel newspapers when she couldn’t live alone there anymore. The tile came back to us in her small pile of possessions when she died here in Santa Fe.

It’s all just a circle, lives that are so entwined that even the solid physical possessions flow freely through time.   Release it all, because it will come back in it’s own time.

We are blessed with great family and great friends, we will embark on this adventure/journey/quest knowing that you all are with us.  Blessings on you all.