best news i've heard in forever

Lakota Sioux Indians Declare Sovereign Nation Status

in fact, i'm so giddy i'm just gonna let the article speak for itself.....

mid-winter life

this is goose. i suspect i'm just a big warm scratching post to him...but i love it.This is the path down to the pecos river. Its a good long walk , so everyone gets some good cardio action.
and while i don't know where the hell my life is going, this is where i am right now, and its not too bad.

the light is coming back and a poem finding peace in the struggle.

desperation sometimes a stone sits heavy
persistent in the deepest well of my gut
its rare
that the right things
the needed things
come from desperate acts so i try
to leave that stone dark and deep
to steep in water left mostly untapped
but still it seeps
pushing weighted and metered
desperate to feel some kind of exhilarated musing lust
for something
anything of a tangible breathtaking heartbreaking rush
desperation sometimes needing the mountains rocky edge
the mesa open space
a sea of poetic humanity
hungry for the staged bright lights of some dramatic well lived life
i must
i want
i know that nothing good ever comes from desperate acts
that only peace of center will guide me to a solution
still the pacing want
pools up
seeps up into the green grass way over there on the other side of not this life
of nowhere in particular memories
a murder of crows can take it all to the sky
take it all scattered to the sky like almost snowy rain to my eyelashes
irrigating the bone dry
stone dry bring green to the waiting open plains of right here and right now.

weavers for the revolution

its raining and should become snow overnight.

have been trying to pep talk myself into investing some hefty cash into my spinning/weaving. i've outgrown all of my equipment. upgrading is a big deal money wise. i keep saying now or never erin, now or never....cuz on an ordinary, didn't just sell my home kind of day i would never have the money to do this. and if i'm optimistic, the better wheel and loom will pay for themselves down the road...hell, one big gorgeous handspun rug could pay for both if i'm lucky. trying to remember that this money will be gone soon enough and what then? how will i get more then?certainly not on my old spinning wheel that kills my hips and my century old loom that can't hold high or even tension.

but all that logical thinking also requires a sense of the future, some hyped up faith in my relative ablebodiedness, in my ability to have stability/housing and the space to keep this equipment and the mixed bag hope/fear that the empire will keep plugging away so that there will remain an upper class which can afford the rugs i want to make, so that i can afford to breath.

well, i tell myself, even if the empire collapses, which it will eventually, textiles is a worthwhile skill/trade...people need blankets and fibers and cloth, right?

if they aren't getting shipped in from wage slave factories in china etc. where will they come from? from the local, friendly spinster/weaver/ farmer folk thats where. and thats me.

so...im taking the plunge. i'm gonna get that dream wheel....a majacraft...ahhhhh. and that dream loom....a cranbrook...mmmmm.isn't it gorgeous?

farm visuals

i haven't had much a brain for blog photo stuff but heres a few i've managed to pull off. i want some photos of the horses but whenever i'm down in the pasture its to feed them and then they've got their faces in feed buckets. on a nice warm day i'll saunter down w/out feed but with camera. they have their winter fuzz...its very sweet.
and speaking of sweet, these are the nigerian goats in residence. little gymnastic olympians these 2 are. great escape artists as well. i worry for their safety....there are so many ways they could end up someones meal.that fuzzy thing in the top corner is a llama neck.
and check out these vigas, nice eh? hand hewn. its a neat old house. but then i am a total old house slut....can't get enough.

a new link and some old words that still count

hey i added this to my worthy linkage but thought i'd point it out here. The black mesa water coaliton has a new web page, i think its really well done. The short video on the home page is worth a looksee.

and while we're on the indigenous track....someone put together a nice piece on youtube (altho the end is cut short) with the poetic words of Marcos at the first encuentro held in chiapas in 96'.

This is where we are
the Zapatista National Liberation Army
the voice that arms itself to be heard
the face that hides itself to be seen
the name that hides itself to be named
the red star that calls out to humanity and the world
to be heard
to be seen
to be named
Tomorrow to be harvested in the past
behind our black masks
behind our armed voice
behind our unnameable name
Behind us
who you see
behind us
we are you
behind we are the same simple and ordinary
men and women
we are repeated in all races
painted in all colors
speak in all languages
and live in all places
the same forgotten men and women
the same excluded
the same under rated
the same persecuted

We are you
behind us you are us
behind our mask is the face
of all excluded women
of all the forgotten indigenous
of all the persecuted homosexuals
of all the despised youth
of all the immigrants
of all those imprisoned for their words and votes
of all the humiliated workers
of all those dead from neglect
of all the simple and ordinary men and women
who don't count
who arent' seen
we are
who are
nameless.....

life on the other side

i'm here at the new farm.
still so much to do in chacon but we're in the midst of nasty weather and all the animals are with me here and so for now i'm just HERE.
and you know if the weather is unsavory here at 5500ft. then its downright gnarly and freezing up in chacon at 8600ft.

dreamt last night that marcos the man kitty was there at the house in chacon...cold wind blowing through missing windows and my stuff everywhere everywhere.

i actually feel like i've left the house behind...as in abandoned it....as in its lonely up there without me after so many years of connection.waiting for me to come home, start a fire, sing songs and dream.
i mean, that house would still be an eroding pile of mud if i hadn't rescued it from certain melt down.
the thought of that place conjures lonlines. howling cold lonliness. and thats hard beause its been my home for years. just me. my little body keeping it warm and clean and standing.

here at the farm i am clean. squeaky fucking clean. i weep everytime i bathe. its so unreal and all consuming to emerge myself in hot water.

hoping that when the dust settles i won't be looking at more endles days of alone. there is, ofcourse, a good chance of that. but right now i'm preoccupied with all that still needs to be done, all the back and forth between here and chacon and the time it will take to get used to the sounds and routines of this new place.