Into The Sixth World

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Return Home and Recipes...

After 14 hours of travel from California to San Miguel de Allende, my pinche front door lock would NOT open, damn. My sweetie shuttle driver drove me around San Miguel trying to find a locksmith who was home as it was Sunday and no one was answering the phone...I ended up seeing parts of San Miguel I'd never seen. Sheep penned in lots next to casitas and roosters running down the streets, that was fun...not like the more formalized Centro. When I left to travel my neighbor had a CHICKEN FARM WITH ROOSTERS on his roof; I dreamed of tossing a bob cat over there. But upon return, after almost two months, only ONE ROOSTER remains which is okay, that I can endure, not the Chicken Farm where the hens make a racket after laying every egg and the roosters do not crow only at dawn, but ALL DAY LONG into the night. Yayyy they're gone, except for the one rooster...I was about to move if they were still here. And so, finally found a locksmith and he couldn't budge the lock, so he had to crowbar the door open...he was persistent and got me in, kisses to the locksmith.

Then I went to the car lot down the street to check on my car the next day and I could barely see it as it was pretty much smothered in (beautiful) wild flowers...but it started right up and had to crush many of them to drive out of the lot in order to buy food or starve to death in the very dusty casita. That mountain dust at 7,000 ft in San Miguel covers everything eventually, so a good weekly cleaning at the very least, and I was gone for two months. Bird feathers all over from the huge sky light in the entry way...I felt like returning to California, my family, friends coming to see me, our many fiestas. So went out for comida/food, bottles of wine, tequila, and an immense bunch of mixed flowers...daisies, purple mums, birds of paradise, lilies for their sheer intoxicating scent, which made me want to clean la casita. And so, while sipping a cup of green tea, some recipes, simple ones-

FLAN, 6 to 8 servings...
3/4 cup sugar (for caramel), 1 quart milk, 1 cup sugar, 1 vanilla bean split lengthwise, 4 egg yolks, 6 eggs lightly beaten.
Cook the 3/4 cup sugar to carmelize it, then pour it into a baking dish carefully, covering all of the bottom of the dish with caramel. Heat the milk with the cup of sugar and the vanilla for about 10 minutes. Let cool slightly, then add the egg yolks and the beaten eggs. Mix thoroughly, Remove and discard the vanilla bean. Pour the egg mixture into the caramel line baking dish. Bake in a pre-heated 350F/175C oven for about 1 and a half hours OR until set...plunge a knife into the center to see if it comes out wet or dry. Cool completely, even refrigerate to serve...YUMMY You can also place fresh berries on top of the flan, a bit of Kahlua (Mexican drink with strong coffee taste), or a lot if you like, so delicious.

Here's my own SANGRIA recipe, which I made quite a few times for our California fiestas...
In a large pitcher...a bottle of good cabernet, not expensive but good. A third of the pitcher with orange juice, or a mix of juices like orange juice/pomegranate is great. A cup of white TEQUILA...stir this all up with a wooden spoon. Add fresh berries, like blackberries, raspberries, to the pitcher, and when you serve the Sangria make sure everyone also gets some berries. So you can drunk while knowing it's all a bit healthy haha/jaja... I made many pitchers of this wonderful stuff, so when the pitcher's getting low just add more of the above in this order, and keep adding the berries to share with everyone, remember your health. This recipe, Sangria, goes deliciously with enchiladas, tacitos, and every Mexican dish...I'll post an enchilada recipe later on. My Mamacita's (grandmother from Sonora, Mexico) enchiladas were always pretty hot and spicy, which I love, so I won't give you that one as most folks run for the water.

And so, I'm back in San Miguel with ONE rooster next door...I used to live and work on a farm in Sonoma, California....we had lots of chickens, some roosters, but they were in the barn over the creek, far from the house. So to say that I LOVE chickens, their marvelous eggs, just not right next to my bedroom patio, yes that's where they were. Can we say BOB CAT...and now my door opens with its key, the wildflowers continue to grow over my car, the car lot owner must come with a machete. But for now I let it all go and imagine you all making FLAN, SANGRIA...enjoy la vida, JOY in spite of the obvious challenges facing our planet, all of us humans, as we ALL journey into the Sixth World. One Planet, One People...

*My granddaughter, la Ashley, gave me a Bob Cat Charm and I think it did the trick...

Sunday, June 12, 2011

INITIATION

"The hallmark of the wild nature is that it goes on. It perseveres." Dr. Estes "Women (and men) Who Run With The Wolves"

I drove down from Santa Fe, New Mexico, to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, in April 2005, crossing from El Paso, Texas, into Ciudad Juarez, down into Chihuahua (stopping for the night)...to Gomez Palacio, the night...Aguascaliente, the night. The journey took me five days of driving, into San Miguel- I wouldn't drive that journey today with all the drug cartel violence, with my New Mexico license plates. I couldn't find the International Crossing from El Paso to Ciudad Juarez and while lost I saw an older man in a wheel chair trying to bump himself up a curb, gave up, stood up, and lifted the wheel chair to the sidewalk, continued on his way. A teen spitting fire in the middle of morning traffic, almost every one waiting for the light to change gave him money. The foot bridge from Ciudad Juarez to El Paso packed with morning workers, and I thought of the hundreds of women violated, murdered in Juarez, which made me want to give up and turn back to my own country, the USA. Where the 'code alert spectrum' was in full swing in honor of our president's 'shock and awe' show in Iraq, creating millions of new terrorists daily...but my country needed that oil (as we've been bombing Libya for the same reason in May/June 2011...the true/real reason). So my nightly dreams were filled with people being bombed, children dying, mothers/fathers weeping...I had to leave. My country. The one I was born into, grew up in, and love the SPIRIT, and the land, of. And it was time to bring my grandmother's spirit home, a full blood Yaqui from Sonora, who raised me with the daily training of 'dreaming,' in the spirit of her eagle.

My passenger Toyota was packed with the 'essence of my life,' literally, not one teeny tiny space left...I'd given everything away to the Goodwill truck, 'good karma' I thought if I ever return. It was my Give Away to the spirit of the journey, the ancient trade routes the people of this continent traveled for CENTURIES, from the tip of South America to the Arctic. This Turtle Island, all Turtle Islands once connected. I told myself, 'I don't need no stinkin' badges,' until I couldn't find the International Crossing. Then I began to worry that Customs would dismantle my entire car before I could cross- nothing illegal, just the essence of my entire life. The Goodwill guys arrived to haul away my beautiful black leather couch, TV, CD player, speakers, nice coffee table, dining room stuff, all the gathered kitchen ware of my life (having raised four children), my year old, so comfy mattress, carved headboard with the rising sun, YES EVERY DAMN THING I OWNED...the great Give Away.

The Guatemalan with a big family: "Do you mind if I take this couch, my family could sure use it, senora." (In Spanish)

"Man, you'd better start talking the English, dude, or they will definitely haul your ass away back to the old country," the Canadian Cree laughs. "Me, I crossed with that 'undying treaty,' you know the one that will last as long as the sun shines and all that shit. Hey, do you mind if I take your CD player, like why aren't you takin' it, you goin' on a vision quest to old Mexico or something?"

"Kind of," I laugh with him. "Hauling all this stuff down there would cost me around $20,000. and putting it in storage for even a few years, I could buy it all again, but it's still hard as these are also, you know, memories." I decide to be honest, hey they're Indians. "And I'm taking my grandmother's spirit home, you know, to her Mexico lindo y querido. It's about time and I'm driving down with the MoFo essence of mi vida."

I watch them load my stuff, keeping what they're taking in the front. They turn once, wave, the Guatemalan giving me a joyous grito, beautiful smile. It makes me happy to know the Guatemalan is taking my couch, mattress, bedding, and the Cree my CD player, TV, big pillows. The Goodwill really charges too much for their stuff, it truly should ALL be free...the great Give Away.

When I finally find the International Crossing, with the help of a laughing cop...I tell him where I'm going. "My people are from Guanajuato, bien viaje! Say hello to the beauty for me." After I pay for the crossing, I wait for Customs to approve the car's contents. A young guy approaches the car, I smile cautiously...he looks at my visa. "Alma Luz Villanueva, with a name like that, go on ahead!" To my shock, laughter, I do. A sign: REVISION, which means 'check point,' but I think it's RE-VISION and it looks brand new as though some heyokas (sacred clowns) had just run out and placed it there for me. To remember. To look. As though for the first time.

On the drive through the great Sonoran desert, miles and miles (and miles) of white-ness, desert. Little dark whirlwinds in the distance, I keep an eye on them. Suddenly they're right next to me, as I'm going around 80 miles an hour trying to make time to Chihuahua...and I'm not kidding, two dark whirlwinds to each side of my car, my body responds in prickles of fear. Yet I also recognize magic when I see it, so I keep going...and the car is LIFTED for a second. I hear the whirlwinds singing, warning me, "Slow down slow down the beauty all around you slow down human..." And I do, slow down, and the little dark whirlwinds travel with me, two to a side, for miles.

I come to the top of a grade overlooking desert, sun, desert, sun, to the horizon...there's nothing out here (humanly) and I'm HOT even with the air conditioner on low, afraid to over-heat my engine on this expanse. A very old man, dressed entirely in white, appears...his face to the sun, smiling, ecstatically. He never looks my way, as I actually slow down to see if he needs a ride...he continues on, that smile.

As I near my first town, greenery begins to appear, farms...a farmer with a horse driven plow...my dark whirlwinds leave me, my guardians. Of this journey, initiation. I begin to cry and I'm thirsty and hungry all at once. A man in a wheel chair sits by a 'tope,' a speed bump, that serves as the traffic light/cop...he's young, handsome, his hand holds a cup. This is his tope, where he sits waiting for the occasional driver. I give him 100 pesos and his smile rivals the old man's in the desert sun.

**To be continued...

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Dear World, dear Earth... March 13, 2011

"Those who take no part in the making of world division by ideology are ready
to resume life in another world, be they of the Black, White, Red, or Yellow race.
They are all one, brothers, sisters. The war will be a 'spiritual conflict conflict with
material matters. Material matters will be destroyed by spiritual beings who will remain
to create one world and one nation under one power, that of the Creator.' That time is
not far off. It will come when the Saquasohuh (Blue Star) Kachina dances in the plaza."
**BOOK OF THE HOPI

Dear World, dear Earth,
dear Sixth Mayan World,
dear Fifth Hopi, Pueblo World,
dear, dear Sweet Earth,
dear Taknokwunu (Spirit who controls the weather),
dear Kokyangwuti (Spider Woman, creator woman),
dear Poqanghoya (Sacred Twin of the North Pole world axis),
dear Palongawhoya (Sacred Twin of the South Pole world axis),

Two tsunami dreams in
March, April 1999, my dream
notebook confirms, the heaving
of Earth beneath our feet, my

youngest son and I, then the
sound of gathered, sheer power,
I've not ever heard before. In
the dreams we stand in the One

Place, a place of safety... Tupkya,
safe place, in my dreams. We
watch surfers, people die in
the mountain of water, we weep,

we don't turn away, we witness
the devastation, we hear the
Twins of the North, South Poles,
of Earth's vibratory centers,

call out warning, call out sorrow,
call out Spider Woman's name,
"Kokyangwuti," Mother of All Life,
in my dreams I hear them-

and she calls out to Taknokwunu,
Spirit who controls the weather, but
it's too late, it's begun, the shift
of axis, the shift of worlds,

the shift of powers, the gathering of
sheer power, the ancient Earth
opens her eyes slowly, the
ground trembles, shudders, dances

awake, trembles, shudders, dances us
awake- so much death, so much
sorrow, the hidden is revealed,
the ancient Sipapuni, the center of

all life, the Place of
Emergence. What will emerge,
we ask, what will emerge,
what do you weave, Spider Woman?
* * * *
We must build a Tipkyavi...womb,
symbolic shrine, altar, for
our Earth, our womb, our mother-
we must bring objects sacred to

us...corn of every color, wheat,
slice of bread, bowl of rice, the
egg, glass of clear water, dry
beans, ripe melons, vegetables,

all fruit, the dried umbilical
cords of our beloved children,
all children, every Turtle Island,
every human color, the human

race, every mother's womb as
witness to this birth, the gush
of birth waters, the upheaval
of our earth, flesh, earth, the

first startled cry between
her bloody thighs, Tapu'at...
Mother, Child Creation Symbol,
bring this too, LIFE.

Yes, bring this too, life, to Tupkya,
safe place, Sipapuni, Place of
Emergence, the small hole in the floor
of the Kiva, crown of your head.
* * * *
Poqanghoya, Twin of the North Pole,
Palongawhoya, Twin of the South Pole,
hold us in your powerful hands, as
our beloved Earth rotates her

new axis, her new dance, her
new birth, her eyes slowly
opening, waking up, she observes
us, the Sipapuni at the crown of

our heads, are they open, are they
closed, are we sleeping, are we
waking, it's time, it's time, it's
time, our Mother wakens, to

push us through her birth canal,
earth upheaval, gushing waters,
the ancient Sipapuni will guide
us if it's open, open our eyes

to terror's wonder. Hold us in
your powerful hands, beloved Sacred
Twins, send out your song, the
Tangakwunu, rainbow.
* * * *
Santa Fe, New Mexico, Indian Market (2004),
I stop to admire a young Hopi man's
Kachina carvings, so beautiful,
so perfect, I freeze in the hot

sun, he laughs, bringing my eyes to
his, sheer play, sheer joy, sheer
creation, his mother's son,
I've seen this look in my

own son's eyes, I laugh
with him. "Your Kachina's are
so beautiful, it's like they're
alive." "They are,"

he smiles the smile of the creator.
I buy a small butterfly Kachina,
suddenly he grabs my right hand in
a firm clasp, turning my arm/hand

over, mine on top of his- flash of
smile, creator's eyes, "This is
how we will know each other in
the next world, sister, the Nakwach."

I'm stunned, his firm grip, without
my permission, his mother's son, my
own sons, I breathe, "I don't
understand, what?" He holds my

gaze- "My people, the Hopi, call
this the Nakwach, remember it,
you'll need it in the next world,"
he laughs. "Show me again," I

smile, he does. "Thank you, I'll
remember, for the next world."
I walk away, slowly, looking
back, waving, my small butterfly

Kachina carefully wrapped, his
firm grip still pressing my hand,
my arm. Talasveniuma...Butterfly
carrying pollen on wings, floats

by, I see bright yellow pollen
wings, now now, and think of what
I read this morning (2011)- the traditional
Japanese greeting replaced with,

"We are
all in
this together."
Nakwach,

this is how
we'll know
each other in
the next world, Nakwach.

Dear Saquasohuh, Blue Star Kachina,
we will know you
in the next
world, give

me your terrible,
wondrous hand,
we are all in this
together. Nakwach.

To our sister Turtle Island, Japan,
solar energy now, into the Sixth World,
one people, one planet,
into the Sixth World.

Alma Luz Villanueva
San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

**The quote that opens this poem comes from Frank Waters' BOOK OF THE HOPI ('Hopi Prophecies'), the words and wisdom which he gathered from 'some thirty elders of the Hopi Indian tribe in northern Arizona.' He lived with them during the gathering, the gift of their words, ancient knowledge, for this amazing book. Waters writes in the Introduction: "Most of their spokesmen here are old men and women with dark wrinkled faces and gnarled hands. They speak gutturally, deep in their throats and almost without moving their lips, their voices rising out of the depths of an archaic America we have never known, out of immeasurable time, from a fathomless unconscious whose archetypes are as mysterious and incomprehensible to us as the symbols found engraven on the cliff walls of ancient ruins...This, then, is their book of talk. It is not a professional paper- neither a sociological or psychological study nor an anthropological report. It is the presentation of a life-pattern rooted in the soil of this continent, whose growth is shaped by the same forces that stamp their indigenous seal upon its greatest mountain and smallest insect, and whose flowering is yet to come."

Copyright, Alma Luz Villanueva

Monday, February 7, 2011

Björk "Who Is It"

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Dear World, dear Earth, dear Angel Of Despair And Joy...January 6, 2011

(Continued from January post)-

Los Angeles, The Angels, at noon,

Angel Of Illegal Immigrants, Spanish,

Vietnamese, Chinese, Cambodian spoken

on the streets, many more, do you

sing in every human language,

Turtle Islands, once the massive

Tortoise emerging from primal,

cellular swirling sea, from

space blue blue blue womb

water, I hear you singing on

the streets of Los Angeles, your

sweet clear voice pierces my

stubborn, persistent, will-to-live

human heart...Angel Of Dreaming

Immigrants, Angel Of Native People

Of This Continent (their drums, their

voices, their rattles, dance, song,

keep us alive, ancient prophecy

coming home, coming home to the

streets of Los Angeles, The Angels, the

Earth, coming home), Angel Of The

Ancient Trade Routes, Angel Of

Shimmering Shifting Borders,

Angel Of The Dispossessed ,

Angel of The Possessive,

Angel Of Diamond Light Eyes,

I hear your sweet clear voice

piercing even the concrete, flowing

over the Pacific, her still fertile,

swelling waves, piercing every

stubborn human heart, our

Angel Of Despair And Joy,

I hear you singing in every

language, I don't know

the words, what I hear/feel,

your harsh, persistent healing.

* * *

Santa Cruz, Holy Cross, ancient

symbol of healing (not the crucifix),

night, oh Angel Of Scattered

Families, oh Angel Of Gathered

Families, how do we stand to feel

so much, I wonder, these gathered

memories from sheltered womb to

open door, the delicious, terrifying,

lush, killing, O beauty, O horror,

this human world,

this perfect Earth,

O Angel Of Diamond Light Eyes,

O Angel Of Terror And Wonder,

O Angel Of Despair And Joy,

O Angel Of Scattered, Gathered

Families, the families we're

born to, birth to,

the families we create,

O Angel Of Endless Weeping,

O Angel Of Endless Laughter,

we heard your harsh, persistent

voice, healing, and we danced,

oh we danced to your song,

terror, oh the wonder,

at the edge of Santa Cruz,

at the edge of Los Angeles,

at the edge of Mexico City,

at the edge of every floating,

rooted Turtle Island continent,

at the very edge of our Cosmos,

O Angel Of Diamond Light Eyes,

keep watch as the ancient prophecies,

the ancient trade routes, come

home, keep singing your harsh,

persistent, healing song, every language,

O Angel Of Despair And Such

Joy.

* * *

(Watsonville, Califas, a few miles south of Santa Cruz...)

My granddaughter works with the

Farm Workers, their children born

two fingers to each hand, im

perfect (as my four children

were born perfect), spraying

of the fields, their parents

with cancers, dying

to pick the food of

millions, fresh cheap

food at the supermarkets,

ICE separating illegal parents from

their legal children- we marched

over thirty years ago, still they

spray the fields (every where, this

Turtle Island), two fingers to a

hand, the im perfect children, to

their parents perfect- my youngest

son works with the families of the

dispossessed, the hungry, no

food or refrigerator to hold it, no

place to sleep (bed, mattress), no

place to sit (couch, chairs), no

table to gather (food food), the

country of wealth, abundance,

one in four children are hungry,

Martin Luther King, "The worst violence

is poverty," O Angel Of The Farm Workers,

O Angel Of Toxic Food,

Angel Of The Im Perfect,

Angel Of The Perfect,

Angel Of Violence,

Angel Of Healing,

Surround each field, unfurl

your wings, tip to tip,

O Angel of Diamond Light Eyes,

the terror, and always

the wonder.

*To my youngest son, Jules...and to my granddaughter, Ashley.

To all the daily human angels, wing tip to wing tip,

every Turtle Island, into

The Sixth World.

Alma Luz Villanueva

San Miguel de Allende, Mexico

Sunday, January 9, 2011

Dear World, dear Earth, dear Angel Of Despair And Joy... January 6, 2011

Early morning, as we land in Mexico

City, I see the immense angel, I

blink my eyes, I stare and

stare, it doesn't disappear, it

remains firm, hovering at the

edge of Mexico City's sprawl,

Cloud Angel, Spirit Angel, Angel

Of Despair And Joy, Begging Angel,

Starving Angel, Murdered Angel,

Tortured Angel, Child Prostitute

Angel, Angel Of The Well Fed Loved

Child, Angel Of Loving Parents,

Angel Of Those Who Feed The Hungry,

Angel Of Those Who Give To Beggars,

Angel Of Those Who House The Beaten

Human Body, Angel Of Those Who

Weep For Mercy Compassion

Harvest, Angel Of Those Who

Rage For Poverty's People, Angel Of

The Unashamed Who Bellow, Angel Of

The Shamed Who Whimper, Angel Of

Our Humanity, Angel Present Alive

Every Where, Angel At The Edge Of

Mexico City, I didn't know you

were there until this morning,

December 9, 2010, if I flew

city to city, country to country,

continent to continent, I would

see you firm, hovering, your

immense wings folded softly,

fiercely, your speed of light

eyes balancing the terror,

the wonder, of being

human, you temper our

blindness, give us sight,

Angel Of Diamond Light

Eyes, watching, weeping, gazing,

our strange, stubborn human

beauty, we persist because of

you, Angel Of Despair

And Joy, at the edge of

Mexico City, every city, town,

village, every Turtle Island,

our Earth.

To the city of Tucson, the nine-year-old angel, Christina Green, killed on January 8, 2011- all the wounded, slain. May Gabrielle Gifford heal, the others wounded. May the Circle Of Angels Of Despair And Joy unfurl their soft, fierce wings, tip to tip, around Tucson at this time...

*This is the first section of this poem, it's much longer as it journeys to Los Angeles, Santa Cruz, Califas...(the 'Dear World' series in its 15th year, previous books)...but this one is for Tucson today as we ALL journey into the Sixth World. Gracias to my students at Antioch for your grace, beauty, so much humor, at the December residency...gracias to mi familia who love my heart for what it is, and I theirs also...into the Sixth World con mucho amor, the harsh, healing gaze of the Angel Of Diamond Light Eyes.