Sleeping adjacent to an all night Women's Ceremony Circle, I have a dream. I am standing with a small gathering of people. We are, as a group, using clear light to adjust the taste of a sound, to encourage it to be smoother to the touch. Of course we are all dressed in some unusually sunny, foreign clothing I can’t quite identify. I woke up and realized that this is like eating carrots. Seeing the vivid color of a raw carrot, the taste and subsequent crunching flood the mouth brightly. As chewing proceeds, the texture becomes granular, even if chewed for a bit. When a carrot is cooked using light as heat, rendering it softer and more yielding, the warmth spreads the broader sweeter taste, perfectly retaining a small but satisfying crunch. A smooth buttery feel and texture forms as it is slowly cherished between the teeth. Sight, taste, sound and feel emerge merge from layers of a thing born in mother dirt, (Butter sold separately)
Stories Ruminations Rememberances