MISTING INTO ZEN

MISTING INTO ZEN

Walking down Mercer Street

Queen Anne houselights sparkle

The morning sun grows brighter

Each morning it grows lighter

and hope will always find us

Look at all the children’s faces

Perfect innocence in all places

In the sudden laughter of mother and child.

Dawn is not so dark

As the world joins hands

We pray for one another

In distant desert lands.

We will arise as frost recedes

White flower petals do as they please

Slowly unfold in prism gladness

Growing up towards the sun

With our green sisters

With our good brothers.

Feeling the darting movement

Of scattered creatures

In the blessed garden

Nibbling at sprouts.

We will spin our song

Our illustrious chant

Until it charms the world

Into the rhythm of our mother

In the kindness of the glowing moon.

White petals still slowly unfold

The sweet scent will mist into Zen

For passerbys and for all children.

Then we will arise

We will grow tall

Our song will fill the air with spring thaw.

GORT/IVY (Represents the spiral of self and the search for self) Upon realizing the life review at the end of the Ovate Grade actually goes on for the rest of my life

I remember being so young I thought all trees had children to whisper to them.

I remember being so young I thought all trees had people friends in the wider world where they would climb them, pick their fruit, sketch them in black pencil, and listen to their branches creak and move.

I remember climbing the large plum tree right behind our backyard at 4310 Corliss Avenue North, and I felt like I was part of a larger society of children all over the world, which included my two brothers, and we would climb the tree and find our favorite spot at the top of the tree venturing out as far as we could until the branches were too thin.

I remember these as the best times with my brothers.

I remember we were not allowed to climb the tree.

I remember we moved away from the tree when I was 12 so my parents could divorce and I went to live with my mom in the Albuquerque heat. It only rained once that entire summer and when the drops began one evening my mother and I ran outside astounded feeling the rain falling on us and laughed and twirled.

I remember no one else around us seemed to enjoy the rain.

I remember I didn’t know the rainfall in Seattle was considered excessive.

I remember when I started college in California and took a walk to see what kind of neighborhood I was in and noticed many tumbleweeds among the ranch houses in this low desert. This neighborhood had Coastal Live Oaks named Quercus Agrifolia and they always seemed rugged and so beautifully bent.

I remember thinking it was curious there are so many kinds of Oak.

I remember being shocked when I first realized some people didn’t think trees were anything more than a machine in a mechanical universe.

I remember when my first husband said that being in a big skyscraper is the same as walking among giant Redwoods and this shocked me more than that he was a republican who was somber when Clinton was elected president while I was jumping up and down.

I remember spending time at Greenlake once I was alone again I would go late at night and just stare at the water until I felt like there was a giant presence behind the lake even though it was man-made.

I remember wondering if anyone else felt that too.

I remember spending time with my friend Glen whose sister has the same birthday as me. We frequented the Greenwood pubs drinking Alaskan Amber and laughing and talking about all the things no one bothers to think about and the thing I liked about him right away was he told me he still climbs trees by putting on a hardhat and a tool belt so no one would think he was out of place.

I remember thinking it was hilarious that an adult could get away with climbing a tree for sheer fun.

I remember I have traveled and been to the edges of the world in the Galapagos where I could have touched the birds and the sea lions they were so tame, flying over the Kenai Peninsula with pristine lakes shrouded in mist with no hint of civilization, and with Joe in the middle of a desolate canyon near Yakima.

I remember first trying to hear the song of the trees in the wind after I read Tolkien when I was 15.

I remember when I was 32 I traveled to Hell’s Kitchen to celebrate Samhein with my friend who hung out online at the interfaith café and was a comic in New York City and lived in a small railroad apartment where I met all his OBOD friends.

I don’t remember a thing about the ritual.​

I remember this is where my interest in Druidry began.

I remember thinking the ritual was beautiful.

I remember running away from home when I was 16 and hitchhiking across the country to West Memphis, Arkansas. I traveled through Colorado and the cliffs and drops were astoundingly beautiful. I traveled through Aspen as snow began to fall.

I remember wanting to travel over the mountain pass at night but was talked out of it by a young girl of about 13 who was walking along the highway and said I should head back to town for the night. I did and turned back to see her a minute later but she was already gone.

I remember how shocked I was as there was no way off the road.

I remember being with my family at a park when I was very young looking at all the trees and flowers and I decided to tell my dad I saw a fairy even though I never had and his face lighted up almost like he really saw me for the first time. I told him I was joking right away and he was so nice about it but I could tell he was disappointed. Even now that he has been gone several years it makes me cry.

I wish I had really seen a fairy.

I remember reading about Findhorn in Scotland and how they could see fairies and Pan and wishing to go so badly and I think now it stems from that moment.

I remember I have crossed the equator on a ship in the Pacific.

I remember I have already died without dying.

I remember I have a son who has seen an angel with wings.

I remember the taste of the plums from the big tree I used to climb.

I remember being on the high seas.

I remember the low desert.

I remember this morning how mist rose from the grass.

Invocation

Goddess of all births

Empower me with peace

For the common good of all

For children who play under trees

You shine continuously as the sun

Let the dawn arise, let it be done.

Danu you hold healing grace

May you blessings flow through me

Like leaves that dance to earth

Clouds that swirl in sky

Water that will continuously run

In the rivers and streams, let it be done.

Mother of all beings hear me

As I seek magical working energy

With wand, stone, fire, and song

Healing myself as I stand tall and still

Power of harmony, fire of the sun

Let the drops fall on my thumb, let it be done.

By Ruth Ann Oskolkoff
July 7, 2012

Cover of Sacramentals

Sacramentals

I have four Buddhas in my home,
St. Brigit’s Cross on the wall, water
from the Chalice Well in Glastonbury,
my wand I made from White Willow -
scented smoke rises, blue flame burns
my center is still while the wheel turns.

A small flat stone from the Irish coast,
candles lit, a nativity set,
bust of Beethoven, chapel bells,
a crown of birch, a handmade bowl -
Sage burns sweet, water in West
my inner pilgrim walks on her quest.

Pinch of Meadowsweet, I Ching sticks
two angel statues, tarot decks
a clamshell rattle with my own hair,
this white southwestern pottery bear -
Incense rises, feathers in wind
I feel as if we never sinned

A paddle painted red and black
Ogam staves in handmade sack
assorted stones on a piece of cloth
print of Christ carrying the cross -
rocks shout out loud, raindrops splash up
while I sip wine from the common cup.

Jury Duty Rag

Lunch on the second day in the back room
Where there are a few round tables for those
With laptops and who want to place styrofoam bowls
Of soup on something sturdier than a lap
In this light green room with the river bridge art
Networking, texting, typing, earphones on
Warbling through the break in a dash of determination
To fit a few drops of ourselves in between munches
Or slurps, crunches, chews, nibbles, and sips
Then back to the questions and selections
For the afternoon of sitting and listening
To the judge and many request to leave
Due to multitude of seemingly good reasons
Seasons of hardship, a physician has no one
Who will see her patients, teachers no one
To teach their students, non-refundable
Flights, no one to care for children, small
Businesses unable to function if the trial
Goes on as planned all next week.
At 1:30 we will line up and ascend
To learn the fate of those who wish
To be excused and of those who remain.

A Poem in 15 Minutes

This lone, almost rotten apple sits
On the workroom lunch table also
Covered with gossip magazines
One of the two microwaves are
On heating someones lunch
Humming a breathy monotonous
Sound along with crumbling
Napkin, soup in dish, chewing,
Water running and a cleared
Throat create a workday song
Never silent as the almost
Inaudible whir of the two
Refrigerators can be heard
In place of any quiet
Reassuring the kitchen
Residents that all continues
To run as programmed
“Ding” interjects the microwave
In best R2D2 communication
Signifying the food is hot.