They count on the moon

Well now dears. The flow of dream and story has Old and Older mixing and if you need a bit of digestion time, this would be the perfect place for that. In the sky above while Lono blessed the woods with a dousing rain, the oldest Grandmother of skies, Mahina the Moon wears her 'Ole Face. It is the time for reflecting and mending, resting and weeding.

Through the vessel of The Blog, there are connections to facilitate ... note the links and eat them up.

• Let us reflect. There is a girl lost or taken from a big sailing vessel. An improbable circumstance? But we have more information don't we. The girl is a Muliwai, a Being meant to be between. Her story began in a story about the Three Sisters ... corn, bean and squash. Who is she, the little girl? 

• Her name is Shine, and she is first the sister, and then the daughter of the Corn Lady, named Linda. She is the Bean who will and does entwine herself on the strength of her mother the Corn Lady Linda. Born without 'hearing' she is other-ways blessed and shared her song with help from Human music makers. They create Sonic resonance ... they tap hearts, they connect with the Oldest Record Keepers. Who are the Oldest Record Keepers? Kohola, the Whale. 

• A Turtle, the favorite sister of Pele born from the egg, a Border Witch named for a weed or a slipper, a squash named Dumpling, a dairy farmer's grandson who sings in the language of Plant Beings, and two young Humans with two spirits a piece and the ability to harmonize ... all of them converge on the Ancient story of Wood Crafters. The tracking of kaona brings all of these elements into the 'Ole Kulua energy of now. They, and you, can know how powerful it is to count on the moon.

• Ahhh. The life of a tracker of multiplicities is a complicated one if you attempt it weighted by limitations of any kind. That is easier said than done, trust me, it is a practice over millions of earth years. My name is Max. Some of you might know me as Godfather to the Border Witch? I am that, and with this story we weave together many dangling threads, coral polyps, and voices of Moss. Look for those threads in the handwork Dumpling Woman rests her head upon after having drunk that Wild Forest Black.

There is more to come ... but, for now eat your fill and then we will fly some more.