Mountain biking and stalking the god, Pan. Two of my favorite and most moving activities. I've not yet done the biking this Spring, but have had a dance or two with Pan. Browsing in some old stuff, I came across this piece (follows) from Spring of 2005. Last years snowmelt was spectacular. The amount of water coming down from the high country was literally awesome. This year the melt is small. So it was good to rekindle this memory of wetter times.

First bicycle ride of the year for this boy. I realized that I have been exploring Rio Chiquito Canyon for ten years now. For you newer folks - Rio Chiquito Canyon enfolds a National Forest(Carson) Service road: 437. I can leave my house and be within the canyon in 15-20 minutes. These are the Sangre de Cristo Mountains; the Southern Rockies; sacred land of the Tiwa people.

I'm always a little wary to take the ride. It's a hard climb. It hurts. But the beauty and magic of the place are a tremendous magnet for me. This past winter was the wettest in somewhere between 20-30 years; massive snowpack in the high country. As if cued by the huge solar flare last weekend, we had a rare May heatwave - around 90 degrees each day. This impacted the snowpack in a big way. Flash flood warnings. Last summer the forest was so lush, I could hardly imagine what it is like this year, with all the moisture - my curiosity overcame my "wimp-factor". So I rode: 21 speed mountain bike.

Right at the mouth of the canyon, there is a series of waterfalls, that break the flow of the Rio Chiquito, to moderate it before it is fed into the acequias; the 300 year old irrigation system. When I reached the first falls, I was astounded by the noise. There within the trees, the river was swollen at least 300% over last years healthy flow! The road and river dance along with each other through the whole canyon. The west side of the canyon is a VERY steep ridge that rises as high as 1100 feet in places. All along the first few miles, I marveled at the seriously serious rapids. There were never rapid in that dinky river! And the forest was lush beyond words.

One of my activities in the canyon is a spiritual quest: I stalk Pan. He was not hard to find today. The roar of the river, and the swift, bone-dry up-canyon wind, the dust devils. He was there in his full glory. On my first rest stop, I could feel him all around me; practically able to see the grand spirit. Awesome! My stamina was good as I climbed. Usually I take a long break, to wander around at Cottonwood Gate; a grove of cottonwoods that form a canopy over the river. But I was so stoked that I rode on by.

The road rises sharply, just past that place. I was looking forward to getting to the muskrat pond. Such a serene pond along the river where the muskrats live. As I approached that next place, I saw a critter emerge from the brush at the left of the road. It glided out into the road, and then stopped in it's tracks to look me square in the eyes. A fox! That was a first for me; and a years long goal. She was a red fox, of the silver and gray variety. Absolutely magnificent animal; especially the bushy black tail. I let out a mighty yawp after she re-entered the brush, from whence she came. Total ecstacy. 

About two miles further on, the road rise at a steep angle as it enters the alpine realm, at (you guessed it) Alpine Gate (these are not physical gates, rather energy points where the vibes shift considerably). Passing through this gate, over a little wooden bridge, I felt that familiar ripple when the altered consciousness kicks in. Fox is known for her ability to give one access to Faerie. She certainly did it for me. I felt the whole forest, alive and rich, with Pan dancing about in a quantum jig; myself, a tiny part of something huge and mysterious. And oooohh so happy.

My final resting place was at the Beaver Dams; a nice area that is kept parklike by the Feds - 8.5 miles up, and about 8500 feet (I live at 7000). I found a goodly cushioned patch of grass by the rushing river. A falcon greeted me as I sat down. He did all manner of loops and dives before disappearing. One odd phenomenon happened there. Two trucks passed by, on their way up-canyon. As they passed I waved at the guys, who were looking my way. They didn't see me. And as they passed, I noticed a bubble-like pocket of energy around them, that distorted the slopes behind them. They seemed to be moving is a slightly different world than I. That's when I realized that I was indeed within the borderlands of Faerie.

I stopped at Cottonwood Gate on the way down. The downhill is a rush! It's hard to describe. Fast, yes. Requiring acute, yet "fuzzy" attention to the features of the dirt road. Some of the drop offs, to the river below, are over 100 feet. A wrong turn can result in unwelcomed flight. While moseying about under the cottonwoods, I surveyed a copse of gamble oaks. The only massive growth of those trees within the canyon. 

As I prepared to make the final descent, I began to lift my ruby red helmet to my head. As it was directly in front of my face, I heard the familiar "police whistle" sound of a hummmingbird. The little ruby-throated fella flew right up to my helmet, which put him about 4 inches from my eyes. He looked at the red helmet, then turned to look at me, then back, then back again. Ya shoulda heard me giggle!! 

All in all, good Medicine. I am especially stoked about my introduction to Fox Medicine. Much to learn. Well worth the sunburn and sore muscles!

Blessed Be ~ Ken 

Below freezing just before dawn, on a morning in mid-May. Something refreshing about this. Something fulfilling in knowing that the mountain air still gives up the heat of an approaching Summer, giving it up freely and effectively, as night embraces this place. Venus shimmering, up over Talpa Ridge, to the east, in the slice of light that silvers the dark sky in bringing the day to come. Hinting coyly over the crest of the ridge: "Greet the day with reserved excitement, winking, and preparing for the dance of the day".

Deep concerns for a loved one feel like an anchor this morning. And that's okay. These concerns have been light as well, as able and enriching companions, over the past couple of days. The residue of sleep and dreams is not yet faded, so inspiration and sleepiness comingle in a virtual cauldron of hope, stirring me to allow both poetic and prosaic currents to swirl in the vessel of dreams becoming a day. Pretentious words, maybe? That too is okay. Sometimes grandeloquence provides the perfect massage to a heart that is in a state of uncertainty, due to it's night of rest and cleansing.

Rosie the Cat is at her dish, crunching kibble, feeding, and reminding that life is quiet though not pending. It is here, soft, sweet, and present. If anyone were here to tell me things about the "here and now", I am certain that I would be wagging my finger at them in allusion to Foghorn Leghorn admonishing the little chicken hawk. Life is edgy these days. A tad bigger of a "here and now" than I am accustomed too. As I said - it is okay.

So many different ways I could begin this. Did a brief search for related source material as inspirational footholds but ran up against a shifty wall of scholarship and erudition.

I climbed over that wall and kept on going.

Almost decided against posting a Beltane greeting, but the spirits pooshed ("pooshed" instead of "pushed" would be Grandmother Florence) me to further my search unto a post, where I could search among the words as they spilled out onto the page. Never mind, they say, what comes to feed; saying that with laughter.

Beltane, for me, is a time of honoring the ancestors and the part they play in furthering creation through the fertility at the beginning of Summer. They hover near and I watch Rosie the cat, who is reclining before my eyes, reacting to the energies that have gathered here tonight. Plain white candle burning at the altar, where Buddha, Yoda, Gandalf, Sylvester the Cat, and Wile E. Coyote stand for remembrence. There's an elf made of soap there as well. These aching arms convey these words through the keyboard, on into the temp file, and eventually into the hard drive of the cafe, where they will be displayed for you. Just for you. Each and every one of you to be treasured.

There have been bees at the choke cherry blossoms today. The neighbor lady came to ask if she and her husband could build a garden in my part of the yard, where the wood scrap pile is now. She says that the rest of the yard is full of old auto parts. Yup, that's the neighborhood alright. Some trucks 'round here been sitting where they sit since way back when the high power lines first came into town, back in '48. Back 'round Roswell time. They had spaceships before the power grid came. Odd sort of place I live in!

Tonight I celebrate emergent intellegence. Remembering and accessing, calling forth and giving forth. From the potentiality of dreamtime on into the immanant flowering that sits around me, enfolding me, and resonating inward, outward and swirling as I write.

Thinking also of the recent plagerism scandal, with the teenaged girl and the book packaging biz. She has my prayers, and has me also wondering at adolescent pride, and how it may be fueled by adament adults. Brings to me a feeling of honor in knowing - knowing that it's all good, but sometimes it can be tooooooo good. Like, ya know? I hope she knows to treasure herself regardless of what went down.

Magpie came again today. Always a pleasure. This has been a peaceful day to feel the aches and pains of letting loose and letting be and letting go. Grateful that I do not need to steal words. Even from myself. Always fresh, says Magpie. Some seen, some unseen, but always fresh. So sayeth Magpie.

Happy Beltane, y'all!

Blessed Be ~ Ken