The rain sweetens the annatto seeds
that I grind into red achiote paste.
I make more chocolate cake,
~~ Other People's Fingerprints ~~
Sometime somewhere Serge Kahili King wrote,
“… shamans recognize no hierarchy
or authority in matters of the mind;
if ever a group of people
could be said to follow a system
of spiritual democracy,
it would be the shamans of the world.”
that I grind into red achiote paste.
My fingers redden wet from weather.
I rub paste onto a freshly sacrificed fish.
Ready for baking
I wrap the fish
in young green banana leaves,
which I picked this morning.
which I picked this morning.
The grey ash falls away,
as I poke the coals to see
if they will reveal
their internal glow.
as I poke the coals to see
if they will reveal
their internal glow.
I lay the fish
next to the baked bread
keeping ready-to-eat-warm
underneath the hot ash.
next to the baked bread
keeping ready-to-eat-warm
underneath the hot ash.
I have met many wise women in Mexico.
They gifted me their family secrets
of cooking dishes and baking sweets -
curing through healing plants and spices.
I safeguard
the art of curanderismo,
respect their secrets
when I cook the sacred recipes.
the art of curanderismo,
respect their secrets
when I cook the sacred recipes.
I brought in my canvas bag
some marzipan from the city of Puebla,
some marzipan from the city of Puebla,
famous for pastry legacy dating from
19th century French presence in Mexico.
I fell in love with Puebla's signature dish,
Mole Poblano a sauce made rich
from grinding chiles, nuts,
herbs, spices and chocolate.
For my traveling herbal bag,
I carry renowned chocolate of Oaxaca.
I carry renowned chocolate of Oaxaca.
At neighborhood mills people
grind cocoas beans into atoles.
As the rain pours down faster,
the wise Mayan curandera,
the wise Mayan curandera,
comes out of her jungle home.
smiling her sweet-toothed smile.
smiling her sweet-toothed smile.
She has been making some tea
to heal her cousin’s arthritis.
to heal her cousin’s arthritis.
Cousin's constant fear penetrated
wet-cold into the dry-warmth of his bones.
My friend guides me with her eyes
to notice the fleeting shadows -
to notice the fleeting shadows -
the soldiers are getting closer
and potentially may threaten our meal.
and potentially may threaten our meal.
She motions with her hands
for me to look behind me,
for me to look behind me,
in hammocks slung between trees,
are soldiers sleeping.
The smell of our food cooking,
must have lured
the soldiering men
from the jungle hideout.
The chocolate rain
is now tasting
both salty and smoky
from aromatic wood burning.
The soldiers want to be fed,
so my friend brews a sedative,
lavender tea to keep these warriors
docile and friendly.
I make more chocolate cake,
adding the relaxants of yerba buena
spearmint and lemongrass,
which calm down soldiers' warring nerves.
I am alive
swimming in now,
exactly where I am to be,
to create my life point.
exactly where I am to be,
to create my life point.
I feel my body,
my skin suit
full of watery biology,
walking the planet in gravity.
walking the planet in gravity.
Feeling life’s miracles,
as a spiritual being,
in a soulful
as a spiritual being,
in a soulful
physical form.
On this edge
of my next step,
I pace out the space
that contains me.
I move my Self,
beyond the open window,
even if I do not yet see
even if I do not yet see
the entire view.
I see the nature,
of my true Self,
and remember,
and remember,
my place of origin.
I step into the game
of free choice,
and pray the veil in front
and pray the veil in front
of my eyes will thin.
~~ Other People's Fingerprints ~~
Sometime somewhere Serge Kahili King wrote,
“… shamans recognize no hierarchy
or authority in matters of the mind;
if ever a group of people
could be said to follow a system
of spiritual democracy,
it would be the shamans of the world.”
