Today we started construction as a group! After a delicious breakfast we met Charly – sho put us all to work right away. From unloading all of our supplies to using the power saw to cut wood plans to measuring wood and building a wall to support the floor for the first floor of the bunkhouse – we were busy!

 

The weather was great – not too hot, not too cold – and along with all of our hard work we also had a lot o laughs. Harry came by midmorning an brought us special gifts – T-shirts from Blackfeet construction supplies and water bottles.  We also had our aprons from Brother Paul, -which came in quite handy for carrying our hammers, nails, marking pencils, and a number of other things….

 

C

 

Wow!  Diong work on our bunkhouse was one of the most empowering experiences I’ve had.  I measured, hammered, drilled…It felt great to make something together.  The early morning, in particular, was very meditative, being alone with the materials, doing repetitive motions.  Charley is an amazing, patient teacher.

 

Melissa

 

The Teepee – Brandi Borr

 

Not so much the Ritz

or even Motel 6.

Just a piece of canvas

held up by several sticks.

The top is open for star gazing

for an experience that’s most amazing.

Although night wind bites like ice,

the toasty sleeping bag feels nice.

I snuggle down with my prayers for the night

and absorb the healing power of moonlight.

 

“The Journey” – Mary Oliver

 

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice  - -

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles,

“Mend my life!”

each voice cried.

 

But you didn’t stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

 

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do  -  - 

determined to save

the only life you could save.

 

 

A Poem for our Montana Odyssey

 

“The Summer Day” by Mary Oliver

 

Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

The grasshopper, I mean –

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down –

who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild precious life?