Threshold of a Season

So you’ve come to the threshold of a season

Take a cue from Sister Aspen
and lay all your old answers down

You’ve received an invitation from darkness
to winter well

and the cave comes calling.

Enter the cave with a child’s heart
and a warrior’s wound

Asking all the impossible questions
impervious to troublesome answers

Fatten yourself up with them
and curl up for a mountain’s rest

You will find that winter
was waiting for you as well
and needs your warmth

The fire around which the season turns
dances in your belly

The company you keep
will become the soil of spring

The dreams you cook together
will become the tulip’s tip

For now, it is enough to know
that the cave is equally your home

within which so much lives.

-Ryan Van Lenning

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I’m calling in a small group of Co-Spelunkers of Wondering into the Cave to slow down and dive deep into the caverns of our Whole Self and Season in order to discover what emerges in the fruitful darkness.

WITHIN THE CAVE SOMETHING PULSES is a 6-week interactive experience leading up to the Winter Solstice & into the new year to sink into the Big Silence where we can hear ourselves—not the voice of society, not the voices of family and friends, but our own Sovereign Voice and Inner Guide.

FIND OUT MORE AND REGISTER HERE 

NOT LESS THAN RAIN AM I

Not less than rain am ‘I’

What thought of flood or mud endured
when flung from ample glandular?

“Secrete!” commands the clôud.
“Release it all and fall to earth,
unleash your fine and furied mirth.”

Of Life nor Death but both
and that which strikes the heart of it
through an endless flowing forth

Sück up what can be drünk
Dip your eager, róòt it swelling.

Yes, sāte your dipsomania.

Once flung, the deed is done
the wetting fills the gaps still dry
calm falling from a patient skÿ.

For now, a beat sustained
is but the móòd and form of day
and tends to match her thirstiness.

But come the night of storm
when touch is lost with ordered land
no cloud will lend a calming hand

A mood mercurial to varied motions lend
an amorous discourse earthward bending:

Of sudden pace it abandons form
to whipping gale spinning
uttering thundered breathless patterns pounding lightnings’ tonguish flames in wettest omni-operant flicked and folded orgasmatic undulating inundations!!

Meeting her gaping and gasping
in old and ancient pässion plāy.

“Tõõ much! But More!” the ground it cries.

“Our mouths entaste in gulps of you
Let us resting, digest it full.”

Then dawn dips in again,
Absorbing night’s emissive mission.

The land is clear and still.

The sky, and ‘I’ reposed fulfilled.
and new, fine feature geolôge.

Not less than she, do ‘I’
this etch upon the face of things
does flow-a-river, freshly born.

To where she goes, do ‘I’
from whence she came, like rain, is röund
and wrüng from sky spectacular.

Yet night is nõught, but mark it—
It is on its way aröund again
to give its gust(õ)racular.

Not less the rain am ‘I’
Nor less the wind, and storm unleashed
Obeying throbbing pulsity.

To spend itself again, again
In hallowed-born necessity.

-Ryan Van Lenning
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One of 75 poems in Re-Membering: Poems of Earth and Soul

BEFRIENDING DARKNESS #3: SACRED ANCHOR

BEFRIENDING DARKNESS #1:
SACRED ANCHOR

Poem-share for sinking into the energies of the season & #BefriendingDarkness, slowness, silence, & shadows.

I. Ripe For Descent

All the world long has descent
on its mind
and me with it:

the freckled hands of autumn
and fickle lure of love
pull me down
with the western star.

Who am I to argue
when the trajectory has gravity on its side?

II. Without The Journeyed Dark

There never was a sunrise
without the journeyed dark.

There never was a spring
without the starried night.

There never was a buried treasure
without the sunken ship.

There never was a deepest love
without the sink or swim.

III. Pace of the World

I’m of a pace with the world now.

Who am I not to follow the wind
and the sun
the leaves and the season’s decadent fragrance
into the dark?

It’s a different kind of allure
at the bottom of things
inside out and beautiful.

Decay is a gift from the soul
of the world—I will not be caught
being a full-time harvester
no ever-ascender.

The soil needs rest,
washed with winter rains
from the dark halls of the heart.

IV. Her Depths Now

These are her depths now!

There was a time when light,
any light,
was a buoy or wonderful distraction.

Now it is an atrocity,
a thieving beast
robbing me of darkness.

These are her depths now,
I scream at the sun.

Have you no thought to buried treasures?

Are you one of the light-brigade,
ever casting gold through your fingers?

Today, with wind’s decree
& the consent of the moon
I hook myself willingly, even eagerly
to the Sacred Anchor.

To the Sun-Addicts, I say:

I now follow Moon,
stalking the territory of the night songs
meeting all the beasts born
of the soil.

IV. Dark Mirrors

Yes, the bottom of the season is cruel.

But it is not the first labyrinth,
nor the last.

A song echoes “I know my powers”
from the cavernous sky below.

Just the right amount of forgetfulness
and remembering fills the chambers.

Then, from the coldest corner,
the darkest thing grabs me.

V: End of the Descent

The end of the descent is self-embrace.

The bottom of the well
is the face of love
looking back.

It catapults me to the inside
of a cherry blossom
just this side of spring.

-Ryan Van Lenning

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Included in the new collection ‘Within the Cave Something Pulses.’ #withinthecavesomethingpulses

WITHIN THE CAVE SOMETHING PULSES COURSE (Starting Dec.4)

DEEP BELONGING FOR THE GREAT TURNING COURSE (Starting January 12)

1:1 EARTH-ROOTED MENTORING & ECOTHERAPY

CUSTOM WILDERNESS CEREMONIES/RITES-OF-PASSAGE (for individuals or small groups up to 4)

BEFRIENDING DARKNESS #2: CARVE YOUR BEAUTIFUL, DARK CAVE

BEFRIENDING DARKNESS #2: CARVE YOUR BEAUTIFUL, DARK CAVE

Poem-share for sinking into the energies of the season & #BefriendingDarkness, slowness, silence, & shadows.
————————————

The path to the dark cave
starts innocently enough

with a sign full of useful information
in broad daylight, blue skies.

A fulfulling breakfast—
potatoes & eggs perhaps,
fruit in season.

Before you know it
you can hardly remember
the color of berries or eyes
or the sound of the river flowing.

Bats reign here
and the dominant thoughts
are of your bed and that last meal.

Feel the shape of those walls
textured by the smooth slink of years
moist with mysterious things
you’d rather not know.

To either side, tunnels to treaures
or traps.

There’s no way to know
and no sure way out
other than following the scent
of your deepest voice.

The deeper you spelunk
the brighter the darkness.

Hard pains, sweet pains
nectars maybe, but first the cuts
both slow and quick deaths.

Sometimes monsters
and the secret password
are the same thing.

Of course, you can avioid the path altogether
by staying “at home”

But don’t think the cave is avoidable.

Or are you one who believes in light
without darkness?

Trailheads without wounded trailfeet,
mountain views without valleys?

Oh, what an imagination!

Come now!

Carve your beautiful, dark cave
and then come home, my friend
with well-earned feet
and a heart that knows.

-Ryan Van Lenning
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Included in the new collection ‘Within the Cave Something Pulses.’ #withinthecavesomethingpulses

WITHIN THE CAVE SOMETHING PULSES COURSE (Starting Dec.4)

DEEP BELONGING FOR THE GREAT TURNING COURSE (Starting January 12)

1:1 EARTH-ROOTED MENTORING & ECOTHERAPY

CUSTOM WILDERNESS CEREMONIES/RITES-OF-PASSAGE (for individuals or small groups up to 4)

BEFRIENDING DARKNESS #1: SOIL OF ME

BEFRIENDING DARKNESS #1: THE SOIL OF ME

Poem-share for sinking into the energies of the season & #BefriendingDarkness, compost, slowness, silence, & shadows.
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Do you think I’m done breaking down?

A forest floor this rich
doesn’t happen in a season

I’m still hungry for dirt—
that hard ground of pain
and resistance
is many a meal to me

If grief and growth are sisters
inseparable
then I am their brother bond
called compost

It’s ok, all of us are split.

All of me
is half of a half
and halves of those in turn

I’m filled with detritus
all the way down like turtles—
it makes of me many a continent
and the water washing over

Darkness doubles
enfolding me into its pocket
ever-deepening

I slip into it
not with fear
nor like a thief

But like one surrendering
to the Great Seasoner

Always breaking down
and building up
until the soil of me can grow
the whole truth

I’ll keep breaking
again and again
until I hold it all.

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Included in the new collection ‘Within the Cave Something Pulses.’ #withinthecavesomethingpulses

🐻WITHIN THE CAVE SOMETHING PULSES COURSE (Starting Dec.4)

🌞1:1 EARTH-ROOTED MENTORING & ECOTHERAPY

🦋CUSTOM WILDERNESS CEREMONIES/RITES-OF-PASSAGE (for individuals or small groups up to 4)

👄 THE MYSTERY OF RED

4A1F0A8E-772C-4980-AB7B-8AAC02E6FB6D.jpegThe same desire that makes madrone red
offer her berries in deep autumn spread

brings firethorn’s pomes and their scarlet sprays
out for a dance amid winter’s play

then lands on her lips the color of wine
taking a sip of the season with mine

A touch of my wild conjures the red
to the soft of her lips, softly in bed

rolls on her mouth so ruby and rose
flickers of tongue like a serpentine pose

so eager to taste, and longing to bite
yearning to sink in the neck of the night

when the seasonal rains finally come
the land and body both are a’hum

when the release of fall finally arrives
all of the greens and deep reds come alive

with the rush of her blood flushing her cheeks
and all of her lips, like flooding of creeks

beyond their banks, a wet wild flow
the land and body alike are aglow.

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