Palettal Prose: Wise Woman’s Friend Gets Interviewed About How the Power Begins

sure she’s a little

different always was

the smallest kid in her class

looks into things

the way a needle slides

clean through scarlet silk

climbed a roof once

where the stars shot gold

into her sixteen years

I’ve heard her sing

on a stage with no one

able to reach her voice

she’s pepper on bread

she’s rain in December

she’s hair that curls beyond curl

catch her dancing

some silent Sunday:

she’ll spin your blood to joy

~Katharyn Howd Machan, We’Moon

Beautiful sensual women with white horse

Beautiful sensual women with white horse

Palettal Prose: The Invitation

It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know
what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know
if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are
squaring your moon…
I want to know
if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened
by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know
if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations
of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear
the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know
if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,


It doesn’t interest me

to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know
what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know
if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like
the company you keep
in the empty moments.

~by Oriah

Scrutinizing Script: The Tenth Insight

Following the search for the first Nine Insights of The Celestine dbe88f7b6dc95f7db62def48fa1311a7Prophecies, there are whispers regarding a possible Tenth Insight. Charlene has gone missing. First character protagonist, John Woodson, has found it difficult maintaining the teachings of the manuscript since his return home but upon hearing of his friend’s disappearance, has flashes of insight and images of her. She’s gone in search of the Tenth Insight.

His search finds him in an Appalachian Mountains National Forest, which has been overrun by pilgrims, in search of the missing insight. He immediately meets David Lone Eagle, whose ancestors have always inhabited this land and have ancient wisdom on the topic, “The Tenth Insight is about understanding this whole awareness – the perception of mysterious coincidences, the growing spiritual consciousness on Earth, the Ninth Insight disappearances – all from the higher perspective of the other dimensions, so that we can understand why this transformation is happening and participate more fully.”

Autumn Mountain Sunrise

Autumn Mountain Sunrise

David mentions a strange hum in the woods that has him concerned and points John in the direction of an obscure part of the forest unknown to most visitors. He tells John to maintain his intuition. Observing the animals of the forest for signs, John quickly surmises things aren’t as they seem. There’s much secrecy throughout the woods, with Rangers escorting people out of certain areas and rumours of strange experiments.

This story touches on inter-dimensional travel and soul groups who give us energy in this incarnation, that we may remember our reason for coming to Earth. It also looks at the damage humans can do to when we play with things we shouldn’t. If you found The Celestine Prophesy far-fetched or bizarre, you may not like this one but I personally did.

Palettal Prose: How to Be a Good Ancestor

be still. listen.

slip though the needle eye of silence.

leave behind your preference for red wine, your talent for word games

your grandfather’s watch–your hair, your skin, your teeth

enter naked as bones

ask the furred, the feathered, the finned

how to ford a river, now to scale the rock cliff

how to spin your flax to gold

feel the floor beneath your absence,

the wide planks of the old house

that were once proud firs breathing out cool fog,

touch the skies those trees held up.

stand before gods that are strangers

whose language is harsh in your ears, and do not flinch

trust kindness when you find it–

the flesh surrounding the apple’s seed

the apple carried in the beak of a raven

become the raven’s fingered wings flying through time

sifting wounds and wonders

become your one unbearable wound

cry tears that freeze in six pointed geometry

then fall and fall, until they smooth the mountains

be the unmistakable snowflake

that launches the avalanche and buries the village

become the thaw

uncover a memory of wholeness

drip that sweet clean water

on the growing vine of generations

the vine that will someday flower with the twin stars

of a baby’s open hands

a baby who will cry out to you

from a dense and troubled darkness

and you will answer:

heal child, the way is in your blood.

~Sophia Rosenburg, We’Moon