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Prayer Catcher

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Prayer Catcher

Made while in seclusion with heavy prayers and with only what Spirit could give me.

--Owl

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Back to the Camp

Back to the Camp I travel up and out and down into the camp site where I had been just five days ago. There is Osprey flying by and I send her my gratitude. There is a pink horizon to the East and I marvel at the beauty. There is my brother, Steve, swimming through the willow branches. And Owl perches high above my tent where only I can see him in my current state. I hear the flute and see myself playing below and add an extra bit of Spirit to the melody. There is a wispy darkness sitting next to me… someone joining me who is not quite in physical form. My friend, Bob, is sitting and drumming his tall tom-drum, his eyes glazed with his spirit hovering just above his knit hat. There are five children that watch with curiosity and a touch of anxiety. I reach down and lightly touch each upon the top of the head and tell them a story of wonder and magic and how all things are sacred. I tell them to remember this moment as something wonderful. I blow through the ca...

Bird of Prey

[dedicated to the victims of the Las Vegas shootings, 10:08 pm, October 1, 2017] Bird of Prey There is anger and fear and sadness looking down upon the crowd from that window high above the strip or from much, much higher up. "They are too small to be human," he thinks. "Their suffering is their own fault for refusing to -- or not being able to -- climb up to where I have climbed." Seeing them in this way makes it so easy to not have compassion or love, and not lend a hand in service. It makes it so very easy to harm them or even worse -- to do nothing at all. He circles all those below like a bird of prey -- As do we all in one way or another. This is my Journey -- Nate Long "Owl" graphite with digital manipulation

Cottonwood

Cottonwood A wind blows through me, Through my many fingers that sway and click against one another. A warmth from high above and to the East energizes me, Trickling downward from my fingertips to my deep, deep toes. From the East I am also illuminated, so my shadow is cast upon the surface of the river. I can almost see, in my own way, each of my arms reaching out and up, Reaching and searching to heal something I'm not meant to understand. The waters from the sky touch my fingers. The waters from the river touch my toes. And I sway to a sacred dance with the winds and sun and rains. Please, come sit with me and touch me and feel my skin. I will do my best to pass on to you my medicines, If you are worthy to receive. --Owl (Shifted as Cottonwood)

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