Close To Home, Winter

 Santa Fe has had a relatively quiet and uneventful winter.  Although we had promise of snow storm after snow storm, very little precipitation came as snow.  I am thankful for this the amounts that made their way to this city at 7,400 feet above sea level. 

The winter has been so warm, we rarely have an indoor fire.

I prayed for rain and snow.

The cedars, heavy with snow.
Vegetable beds seemingly dormant for winter.

A hand quilt project to keep me company.

Rain in May

I took a moment to run out to the garden to enjoy
the wet earth and catch a glimpse of these rains before the event of evaporation.

In 2009, I purchased a bag of intertwined and strangled iris roots for three-dollars.
With only the intention of someday having a garden,
I separated and tossed the tubers into a patch of dry earth.
These are some of the irises that have grown from that mangled ball of
tangled root.
 

Quan Yin nestled deep in the thick patch of irises.

 



It is rare that there are rainstorms during the month of May in New Mexico.  Instead of rain, this is marked as fire season.  But last night, sometime after midnight, a thunderstorm rolled across the Santa Fe landscape.  It brought long, primal growls of thunder and a generous amount of earth-saturating rain.

I am pleased and excited to show these photos of a little iris bed that is planted along a coyote fence.  The earth is sandy, parched and damaged.  About five years ago, I tossed some irises into the ground.  They were given very little water, a minimal amount of attention and a small appreciation for their vigor.  Here today, they are growing and a vital part of my otherwise well-maintained garden.  I like to show people that anything can grow anywhere. 

I love the anticipation of gardening in New Mexico.

Returning to New Mexico

 The car is packed and we are ready to begin our trek across the Southwest from Sausalito CA,  to Santa Fe, NM.

I'm eager to resume meeting with a group of Agnihotra practitioners.

Make visits to Hanuman Temple in Taos.

Enjoy my garden and the beautiful storms that roll across the landscape.

Everything in New Mexico is historic.

I'll be able to see my teacher, Satyabhama, at our Albuquerque Retreat Center.

I'll be delighted to again taste, New Mexico green and red chili.

The Way to Mexico

Dante in Mexico, by Andy Hoffmann, 2001, an Elik Press Single with Special thanks to the Utah Arts Council.

`In Hoffmann's chapter titled, "Frida, My Love," he writes: 

It's easy to enter Mexico by way of Frida Kahlo-her image is everywhere.  A symbol of revolution and the deep seated split of the female body...

But there are other ways to get to Mexico.  Some, as Hoffmann, decided to follow the path of the Dharma Bums and beat poets.  Some for the revolution and the beautiful language.  Some came to Mexico through Our Lady of Guadelupe, whose statues are present everywhere in North America.

Images of Frida Khalo are everywhere in Mexico.

Frida Khalo seems to be peeking at tourists as they wander around the cobblestone streets of the old cities in Mexico.

Guadelupe is present in secluded and untended gardens.

Guadelupe can be hiding behind foliage on private patios.

In Mexico, both Guadelupe with her sacred heart, and Frida Kahlo, with her exposed heart, can be found side by side.

I came to Mexico on a self-guided crone pilgrimage and I find that I continue to run into these two images wherever I go.  Neither Frida nor Guadelupe brought me here.  But I found my way to Mexico in my quest to find counsel with the divine feminine.

How did you get to Mexico?  What unusual route brought you here?  Did you find anything interesting?

San Miguel de Allende Streets

I am finding that I spend more time enjoying the quiet streets of San Miguel de Allende, than joining in on the guided tours and meeting other U.S. guests to this area.  My Spanish is limited, so I am not integrating very well in the culture.  This is one of my favorite walks, from the artist studio where I am a guest, to the Jardin or the downtown city center plaza.    

Brick wall and archway, topped with broken shards of glass.

Detail of broken glass embedded into mortar.

Wall sconce and vegetation.

Cobblestone street, filled with a variety of interesting brick and mortar walls.

An all so intriguing doorway to a residence.

Perhaps you'll want to visit this street in San Miguel.  It seems that everyone eventually comes to this city.

Growing along the top of an ancient wall and in the soil that has gathered in mortar and brick, grow cactus and ferns, together.

Pilgrimage Recalibration

A small collage I created to help me get back on track and release my distractions.

On Saturday, I noticed that I was gaining an increased anxiety.  My Crone Pilgrimage quest was losing focus and becoming diluted with all of the things that one could or should be doing while in San Miguel de Allende in Guanajuato, Mexico.  

Did you ever notice that while trying to explore or establish a new path, that it is easy to be distracted?  How could one come to Mexico in the winter without seeing the monarch butterfly migration resting place?  How could one come to Mexico without following the various portals to the world of Frieda Kahlo or an immersion into Our Lady of Guadalupe?  

How could one come to Mexico without following the path of the beat poets?

I am currently looking for the pulse in my body and in my soul that sends a signal that I am not on my path.  When I am feeling some anxiety, I know that I have gone off my course and may even be repeating old patterns that are not part of my current intended growth.  Certainly, one must go off course for explorations into new landscapes and new territories, that will enhance the intended path.  In those moments, one can feel the exhilaration of stepping into something new.  

Do you have a body compass that gives you a signal that you have gone off of your intended course?

Crone Pilgrimage

Snow Covered in January

Even though I'm in Mexico, avoiding the harsh winter in the U.S., I find myself feeling slightly homesick for my garden in New Mexico.  Last year, there were leeks, chard and kales buried under a layer of mulch and covered with snow in my garden.  Throughout the winter, there was always an expectation of something growing, something incubating.

It is the same for me here in San Miguel de Allende.  Even though I'm far from home, buried deep inland below the boarder of the U.S., I feel as if I'm incubating.  Through the use of images, symbols, journaling, art workshops and dream landscapes, I feel as if I'm immersed in my

Crone Pilgrimage.  

The photo above is from my garden in New Mexico.  It was taken on a day after a January snowfall.  Just about one month after the Winter Solstice, the sunlight was beginning to have a noticeable warmth.  There was promise that what was buried and covered would again come to life.  I feel something inside of me beginning to awaken to an unexpected richness of a Crone's Life.