Flying Lessons in Abiquiu

Flying  Lessons  © Beth Surdut 2011

The first time I piloted a small plane-- over the ocean through a  lava red sunset drenched in fire--

I described the feeling as delirious contentment.

As Raven and I continue our journey, I feel that same heartbeat of exaltation, curiosity, and mystery.

Resilient enough to survive monsoon and drought, soft as a whisper over my skin, the somewhat battered raven feather I retrieved from the Stone Ladies of the White Place now rides around in my car window, dividing my vision between earth and sky.

The White Place photo ©Beth Surdut 

Georgia O’Keeffe often painted the quietly grand rock formations of The White Place. These are the graceful sisters of the more colorfully dressed forms of Ghost Ranch. Often, I hear only the conversation of Raven, my spirit guide, as I gaze upwards at the cornflower blue New Mexico sky or  walk into the mystery of a slot  canyon.

I stood at the edge of the white place

Anticipation dry and tangy in my heart

Tasting the dust of bones and clouds.

~Beth Surdut, Visual Storyteller

Smartest of birds and an icon in creation mythology, Raven shows himself to me and I respond. We talk in the golden aspen groves; sometimes we walk with Coyote amidst the earth sculptures of the Navajo badlands, discussing who really created the Milky Way. 

The  Compass of My Heart     © Beth Surdut

 I come here to breathe in what Raven has to tell me, to breathe out a new mythology with hands, heart and mind.  Standing in the open-mouthed wonder of Ghost Ranch, I make graaking sounds of hope and welcome to three ravens playing. I would leave this body to enter one of theirs, to fly and swoop in the New Mexico blue sky.

Ghost Ranch  photo ©Beth Surdut