Standard Bearer

“Essence Pool” © J Porter, 2010
Glacier Pothole, Interstate Park, Minnesota

Deep in the Essence pool
I sink
Unencumbered by old ways so that I can find the Old Ways
Locked within self


They did not need to wait for ever
And I am so grateful for their song
I dance a slower dance now,
But I still dance

It is woven of fibers of mist and fire
Of sinew and bone
It soars through the air
And hunkers by the fire
It remembers the running, giggling girl
And honors the fickle, fecund maiden
It embraces the mother’s heart
It takes the standard of Crone
With open arms

It is all that I am
Open, bold, free
What I do not give
Cannot be taken

Be careful what you ask for,
and of


© J Porter, 13 July 2010

Author’s Note: Resurrected 13 May 2017. Even more pertinent.


“Run” Digital Collage

© J. Porter, 2017

we run, we run

we twist ourselves into fantastical shapes
and pretend to breathe

we run from ourselves
and our world
and what we have done to it.

© J. Porter, 2017

To the Wild Things…

“The Getaway”, Artwork by Kevin Peterson,
Red Hot Chili Peppers Album Cover, 2016

Unfolding my life in all its pretty and not so pretty moments, ratcheting and unratcheting points of view and simplistic notions I bought into and fed like the crazy beasts that they were. Continually monitoring with ‘Am I doing it right? Am I doing it wrong? what am I doing again?” and shoving it back into a drawer to be looked at later in depth and later coming when it’s least expected.

Change. Roaring in on Letting Go and Letting Out and Letting In and just plain Letting. Keeping me off-balanced and putting things back into Balance the way they should be, but all the threads of the old ways getting tangled in the walk back to the Old Ways. I reach the scissors finally and snip! Falling falling falling away…. all the screaming beasties demanding, cajoling, convincing, tempting, guilting, haunting, taunting, beguiling.

There’s a ways to go with threads trailing behind, tripping the steady beat of my feet on this Path I’ve waited, Worked, longed for. I make my way through the Dark of the Unknown To the Wild Things. Because I Love them.

They are the only things left that are Real.

Transition Point

A snowy stream is seen through Glen Span Arch at the southern end of the Ravine, a wooded section of New York's Central Park, Thursday, Feb. 25, 2010.
Glen Span Arch, Central Park, 2010.
(AP Photo/Eric Carvin)

Grasping for Life
death grip
on hand transparent
meeting dark,
beyond dark

hope at the end
of tunnel, long

in place
rooting feet
in the no-place

gentle light
candle flicker
gentle hands
gentle words
gentle love

blessed beyond measure

© j. porter 2012-2017 et al


“The View From a Leaf”
Photo Credit – Kobi Refaeli, 2014

We are not needed
In the Great Forests
Or the Rushing Waters
Or the Deserts Beneath the
Great Full Moon

The Beings that inhabit those spaces
Are Already Awake

We must go where we least desire

Among the humans of the world
Who sleep a sleep so deep
They have forgotten

That it is We who need
The Great Forests
and the Rushing Waters
and the Deserts Beneath the
Great Full Moon

Let us Rattle!
And let us Drum!
Ring the Bells
And light the Twisted Sweet Dried Grasses
Within Shells of Ancient Ocean Beings’
Long Hardened Homes

Let us Dance beneath the Moon
Among the humans of the world
Who sleep a sleep so deep
They have forgotten

That without
The Great Forests
and the Rushing Waters
and the Deserts Beneath the
Great Full Moon

There is no reason for us to be here

Rise, Shaman, Rise!
Though your Hearts Break
To Leave the Sacred Spaces


Rattle your Drums
So that there are no Spaces left
Where Sacred is not ReMembered

© J. Porter 2013 et al

The Drowning of Atlantis…

“The Drowning of Atlantis” Digital Collage
© J. Porter, 22 April 2017

Corruption isn’t new. Sometimes it’s just lost in Myth. Time devours it, masking in obscurity the actions of those who have done the unspeakable. But it doesn’t disappear, not if you know where to look. Abuses of Power can only be hidden for so long, until like the Drowning of Atlantis, the destruction is inescapable.


Part of a Series, “Shadow Life” by Vangelis Paterakis, 2010

It is interesting to contemplate how easy it is to equate the elegance and romance of a moment to the person who was there with you during it. How many relationships have been started or pondered or desired because the beauty of that experience was so grand, so epic, that the only way you could conceive of another like it was if that person was also present, only to find out they had absolutely nothing to do with the pure Magic of that moment itself.

It is quite possible, I think, to fall in love with a moment, and because that moment is so fleeting, so ephemeral, you try to recreate it over and over with those present at the time, and maybe you succeed once or twice but it never really matches that initial beauty.

The only solution that I can see is to allow more beautiful moments to be Seen, and to fall in love with every single one of them. Your world, your very Life, would be full – Full! of Beauty, and Elegance, and Romance, and sometimes, if anyone else was with you, and they, and you, were paying enough Attention and Devotion to their own Experience you would each have another with whom to look back on those singular, amazing moments and sigh at the exquisite Beauty of them.

And that would be a bonus, but not a requirement.