DISTRICT IX ~ ORION in the SWEETGRASS


Orion ascended the perspective of Earth and World, with the Sweetgrass, invoking his Muse goddess of art and poetry, for Soul-searching contemplation, in a wisdom for having walked through the shadowed glen, wandering the most fearful places he now feels ready 
for healing and reconciliation on the ubiquitous turning so East meets South to meet West 
to meet North clockwise, sun-wise, a force of nature.

As Sage turns Earth’s medicine wheel, emerald truths, the colour of shamrock, of Father Sky, Mother Earth, Spirit Tree, sharing of tobacco, sweet grass, sage and cedar in celebration 
of fire, water, air, earth, the rising and setting of Sun, thus aligned, waning gently dusk 
of light damask passions a healing abundant inspiring new lunar chapters clockwise
sunwise, moonwise, earthwise and ironically, grounded into Earth of rock solidity.

The Muse sings with the voice of Orion and the aroma of sweet grass smudge in a land 
where Rock breathes and Forest sighs—in Elder’s kitchen fire lies at the heart of spirit 
and cultural memory, inspiring sturdy traditions, remembering and honouring People 
endured devastation to the fauna, fern and spruce, we carry the burden of our destruction.

Moving stillness to action in ancient kinship with all Earthly life, Orion knows vertical 
and horizontal transformation on the road to creativity to meet West, whispering 
through in the mighty forest news of the spirits of the ancestors and sets a place at the table 
of transformation into higher diamond states of Eco-Soul.

The dark grey stone of this human vessel carrying the Spirit story on the baleen plate 
of the Green Bay whale the voice of the tale teller is a conscious knowing a meaning-making in pukka, in the seeing, in the listening to that which has torn us apart to return Innocence to Spring skies, over crystal rivers of life with golden air for the Canary to survive again.

And the gentrification on the wings of change, looks backwards but turns Sun-wise 
enfolding the wilds and embracing patina—our friend, Elders of carmine and gold
in humble turquoise, understated, graceful, without regrets, in hues the colour of the bravery we feather the nest for those burdened in sackcloth and ashes, to enliven each vessel
undulating a life-energy in a free-flowing exchange with these gifts of the heart.

~ namasté, Leah J. 🕊

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