storytellers

[creativesoul]

there were alot of these grandmothers and grandfathers. some like uncles, telling tribal tales at the storytelling festival in Portland, the modern Avalon city, glowing in a spirtual light, speaking into the microphone, in various voices and tongues.. she spoke and i flew with her eagle, and soared with her words. she became many people, and seemed rather small in physical realm, but large as many when she opened her fragile lips, and laughing, she tells tribal tales,no one said a word, or squirmed or did anything but listen.
sometimes you can hear the bones of the ear drums, humming in attention.
After this woman, a man came and spoke of coyote , and rabbit, and he had everyone giggling and applauding in no time
i watched his face as he spoke and wondered what it would be like to care for a man that had a face, a mind, a body and a soul like his.
his face changed alot in the corse of his tale, like his ancestors appeared and disappeared on his skin, beautiful bones he had in his face.i wanted to cradle his face in my breasts in the evenings to come.
then came a man that i loved to hear in many ways, he was doubly talented, a medcine person and story teller, and i know he plays gituar well, as he gave me a tape of his once.
i feel like a groupie in some ways, all my present day heros are here giving me an infusion of inspiration, and i was here and alive to feel it.
the woman said," to give these stories to someone you love and respect"
she talked about how these spirits help us, and i was drawn to a window in my soul that i look out of often, where maybe i am alone , but i would not have done these things if i was curled up and naked in the arms of someone i loved. creative and comfort somehow do not always hold hands, not to say that pain is inspirational, but it can motivate a change, for sure.
in the past thirty days i have gone to hawaii, and canada. a woman at starbucks reminded me that i am very lucky.
i knew that
but i guess i had to hear that