I walk 
solitarily 
into the dark 
beneath the canopy 
toward the slow 
moving waters
of the river…

I close my eyes
and listen
to the babble
of the water 
against the rocks.

I take a deep breath, 
my senses become alive,
and I open my eyes.

I walk to river’s bank.

Mystery 
shadows
of dark and light, 
dance all around me. 

Stillness befalls me. 

I step one foot 
then the next 
slowly and
I enter the Sanctuary. 

I ask the Great Spirit
“Guide me
through the expansiveness 
to see beyond the veil.”

Today’s introit is 
Great Blue Heron Standing on a Rock 
fishing in the middle 
of the water. 

She allows me to get close –
I talk with her, ask her for her wisdom
before I start my walk.

Her sagacity
on Love is given –
then I tell her
my Secret.

I take a photo –
then I move on,

I walk
the oils of the poison oak 
from yesterday
burn into my skin
matching the heat 
that arises from 
within my blood, 

My chi – warm – 
then hot –
then boiling. 

I walk 
solitarily – 
and my Trickster
arrives 

He is my East, 
my heart. 
He alone knows 
all of my secrets, 
for he has traveled closely –
aligning 
Himself with me
so many, 
many moons cycles ago. 

As we walk 
we write poetry together and
engage in playful banter. 

And we bicker 
my god and I
like an old married
couple –
and the truth dawns, 

how could a man 
compete
with a God
who knows me
so deep?

I walk 
solitarily now
for the Trickster runs off. 
He has business 
to attend to in the forest, 
old friends to visit
beyond the veil. 

I almost see them all
in the trees in
the thickness and shadows. 

I feel the spirits 
of the forest 
around me. 

How is it that there’s so much to wonder? 
How is it I didn’t see it all before? 
And how is it I didn’t know the Wild One?

I’ve been feeling her close – 
close by my side 
the past few days. 

And now she is walking
beside me 
She is my West. 
I don’t know yet 
what to do with her. 

She is new to me –
her energy
so unlike that of the Trickster,
my Coyote.

She walks silently 
and has yet to speak. 
I am still a bit timid 
but I approach her, 

This Wild One awake
beside me –
I take her hand.

It’s time to begin. 

We will soon move 
in this world and 
rumble together –

To-get-her:
to get her singing 
to get her dancing. 
to get her writing 
to get her freeing 
her people from bondage 
from the hijackers of the soul, 
from the hijackers of the Spirit, 

to get her crying 
to get her kneeling
to get her praying 
to get her healing.

What can I say to you, my Wild One?
When shall we dance? 
When shall we sing? 
When shall we write? 
When shall we free?
What say you, my Wild One?

Shall we call all the beautiful boys and say
“Don’t be shy!
Come out and play with the wild women
On our earthern playground?”

Shall we call the broken girls, and say
“Let’s not underestimate the strength and
genius of a broken woman reinventing herself!”

Shall we call the lonely boys
– as ocean sirens – to dance around the fires
and free their broken hearts and their spirits?

Shall we call the traumatized girls
– as sisters in solidarity – to unshackle 
the goddesses who reside within
their broken hearts and their spirits?

Shall we call all
into this dance that
we name the Healing Game?

Shall we rumble,
and heal one another – 
then the world? 

Then Deer in the Bush
jump out
and startle me. 

My hands reach up 
grasp my heart and
my breath quickens. 
I lose
the hand of the Wild One.

I walk 
solitarily 
now 
and think on stories of friends 
and the petty injustices
being done. 

I think of the very arrogant children and 
their unkindness.
They act so Impertinently 
but they aren’t superior. 

They are the fuel for the resistance.
That is why we have
#metoo 
#blacklivesmatter.
and the podcasts!
All the podcasts!

Vive la résistance!

As long as they grasp for
power they do not possess, 
cannot possess
then the resistance will live on.

I walk 
solitarily 
my mind quieting.

All the birds echo above…
a trickle of the water
splashing against the rocks below… 

I love my river church
and wonder if 
I’ll ever trade it again
for buildings, 
and hugs
and community.

I see Turtle Sunbathing on Hanging Trunk.
The Trickster back at my side – 
I feel His grin.

This is the way worship should always be.

We finally arrive at our rock –
our special spot 
where he works his magic 
to set me free.

We write love poems to beautiful boys 
whom we long to see.

We weave protection spells for those I love and 
love spells for those I don’t. 

We watch Bugs Dancing on the Water 
and say “hi” to hikers passing by.

We think about Eden and the garden –
we sing new hymns
and recite new liturgy
for the
grieving
and the healing…

And the Trickster tells a 
new tale when I ask
“What did your garden look like?”

A lot like your river church, 
wild, untamed 
dark shadows, 
twinkling light
dancing with the breeze. 

There were herons 
and turtles 
and water bugs 
and snakes – so many snakes, 
and deer and their fawns. 

All that you love about your river church –
it was all there.

And I step into the expansiveness
with the Trickster
and we go back way, 
way back to the beginning…

There is a Void and all is One. 
All is One, 
but the One is restless. 

And the One begins to split off
into the Many. 

The Many give way to form 
and all of us

step out of the expansiveness
from beyond the veil
and stand before
First Man and First Woman.

We are all young and eager
He says –
we open our eyes 
into the darkness, 
we peer and we blink, 
there is light – 
light and darkness, 
all the Same
in the Beginning.

And the naming begins,
with the First Man and First Woman
and with the naming –
comes power…

First Man and First Woman
give names to the Many:
the God of the Sky
the Mother of the Earth, 
then there’s the Lovers, 
and the Healers, 
and all the Hunters, 
And let’s not forget the Wise Sisters, 
and their very Hungry Brothers.


And all the others:
The Artisans and the Destroyers
The Doctors and the Midwives
The Philosophers and the Fools

And then there’s 
Me – 
Us –
We –
the Opportunistic Tricksters. 

And He tells me
the story
of the Fall
and of Original Sin
and the Outcasting from Eden
has been told wrong 
all along…

But he promises to save that story of 
the Divine Trickery
for another day – 
for another visit to the Sanctuary.

And we sit
in the stillness
and we feel the Love
of all that’s Holy
wash over us.

This is only 
half of my church experience – 
this journey to our rock.

I don’t speak of the journey back 
from the rock 
up the trail
to the bridge and back 
to the parking lot. 

That story, my friends,
is between me,
the Trickster
and the Wild One. 

But…oh boy – 
that sermon – it made my blood rumble.

I really love my river church – 
the church along the river…

The river is my church now. 

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