October 2020 Dancing with my Demons
Have I named my demons? What are they? Since they’re mine, can I transform them? Four Directions Calling Basement Work
August 2020 – Am I a warrior?
This month we took on a topic that draws out different thoughts and emotion. The song below was offered instead of a folk tale.
After hearing this sung during the gathering I found a YouTube movie of this that sent chills through me.… Read More
July 2020 Gathering Highlights
Topic - Victimhood: How I embrace it The Gathering opened by calling the directions. Spirit Calling Song Sanskrit Song Food of Love Following is the poem Food of Love by Carolyn Kizer. It was recited by Gene Marckx as a way for us to move into our topic. Food of Love by Carolyn Kizer …
“A crow stood on the burning deck, eating potatoes by the peck”
by Ray Ruhlen We have an extended family of crows around us, I have fed them daily after lunch for many years, we get along together, the crows, me, and out black cat, Mr. Squeakers, who I take out for a walk after lunch and in that time throw torn up bread for them, They…
June 2020 – The Rites of Manhood
by Alden Nowlan Recited by Gene Marckx It's snowing hard enough that the taxis aren't running. I'm walking home, my night's work finished, long after midnight, with the whole city to myself, when across the street I see a very young American sailor standing over a girl who's kneeling on the sidewalk and refuses to…
Crows
by Ray Ruhlen "A crow stood on the burning deck, eating potatoes by the peck"We have an extended family of crows around us, I have fed them daily after lunch for many years, we get along together, the crows, me, and out black cat, Mr. Squeakers, who I take out for a walk after lunch…
Where One Is Fed A Hundred May Dine
a version of a tale by Ruth Sawyer ©1970 Once there was and was not a Spanish peasant. He usually had a little to eat — today yes, tomorrow no — but on this day it was no. And a storm came in the night, with rain pelting down at winter’s end, turning all the…
When I was a Boy
… we’d go tramping off the back road through salal and ferns and huckleberries and hike the dry logged-off ridges crisscrossed with wild strawberries tiny and tasty and gritty with sand We’d stomp down tough blackberry vines raveling over the slash of old bones piles of branches the loggers left We’d reach past bramble thorns…
Goat Boy
by Eugene Marckx They tell of a crossroads called Damned-if-you-Do & Damned-if-you-Don’t. But they don’t tell about a boy born there. He was raised by an old man, since the woman who bore the son couldn’t stand it with the man there in Damned-if-you-Do & Damned-if-you-Don’t. She left them both in the dust. The old…