Zero degrees.
A perfect round number, at least on the Fahrenheit scale, for a perfectly round world encircled this dawn by a snow globe of ice and fog.
At times like this, it’s easy to understand how, for the people of this place, all of the land is sacred space. it’s like awakening, safe and warm, in the world’s own womb.
Even now, the sun has begun its ascent, and slowly filters through the fog. Where moments ago, it was impossible to see the trees the line the road, they are now coming gradually into view, albeit with a focus still soft and blurred. Another hour, and the western sky will be near as blue as the cobalt stone in today’s featured work. one that captures the identity of this place as sacred space. From its description in the Bracelets Gallery here on the site:
Sacred Space Cuff Bracelet
We walk in two worlds, maintaining our connection to our own world and to the real sacred space of our traditions. This space is tangible, intangible, and wholly spiritual: the space that lives forever in our hearts and spirits and ancestral memory. This cuff manifests this space in all its forms. The magical, mysterious lapis cabochon, drawn from the Earth and the color of our sacred waters, rests atop the band in a scalloped bezel trimmed in twisted silver. The sky symbols that are the harbingers of rain and other blessings, of life in the desert, trace the center and edges of the cuff. And the thunderhead symbols are brought together, conjoined in an ancient pattern that evokes the steps to the sacred space of our kiva.
Sterling silver; lapis lazuli
$775 + shipping, handling, and insurance
I had a brief conversation yesterday with a dear friend about the rigors of “rural life.” She said that knowing what we go through here just to keep this place going had cured her of any fantasies she might have entertained about retiring to the country. And she is right: It is an enormous amount of work, in every sense of the word. And yet, the place itself is the payoff, if one is needed.
Wings and I spent yesterday at hard labor: digging out from under snow at a depth of two feet in places; working with a horse who suffers a chronic life-threatening condition. In bitter cold, on an icy surface, both are difficult propositions, even dangerous ones. Late in the day, we had to run a few errands, and while at the market, were approached by a young couple, stranded in the cold, seeking a ride to the Pueblo. We gave them a lift, and on the way, were given the gift of Father Sun’s light touching the mountains from an angle wholly different from the one we see at home.
As we continued home, we talked about our good fortune, the gift of living in this place. By now the sun was dropping fast, but not before I was able to get a few shots of our world here: cobalt-clouded skies, snow-silvered peaks, all lit gold by the kiss of the setting sun:
It is a gift, a blessing of the spirits, to live in sacred space.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owners.
