Monthly Archives: July 2013

No Excuse

First of all, I have to say there is really no excuse for not publishing the next issue of Olive Trees. There has been plenty of content sent it. Many people have sent in donations to cover the cost. My only excuses are pretty poor but I’m going to give them anyway.

The first one is my old computer is slowly dying and so we have been forced to buy a new one. The operating system is Windows 8, which can only be compared to living in Montreal and trying to communicate with the natives using the French that was taught in high school. The learning curve is much greater than I could’ve imagined. “How hard can it be. A PC is a PC.”

My second excuse (the poorest) is that a wonderful friend volunteered to help me create this presence on the web. This has taken up all the time I really want to spend on the computer per week in the warm weather.

The third excuse is the weather itself. This is the excuse most New Yorkers rely on for procrastination. It has been hot and muggy. The grass is growing faster than I can mow it. I have a hard time keeping the weeds smaller than the vegetables I’m supposed to be growing. The office space where I normally prepare the magazine has become icky, sticky and smells like mold and mildew causing a great lack of desire in sitting there.

Anyway I am sorry if you sent things in and have yet to see them in print. Please come to the picnic on 8/3/13 and we can talk then and I promise a double issue in the near future. That is unless I can think of more excuses. ~ Ron

Super Moon Drum Circle -June 2013

It was the night of the super moon, when we gathered at Olive Trees Meditational Garden to celebrate. The following is a poem describing the events written by Beth.

Drumming Circle at Sunset, June 22, 2013

Through the parting trees
she slowly enters.
She waited for Strong Sun to go home.
Round, profound Perigee Moon,
glows silently in her pale orange evening dress,
trying not to disrupt the drummers in the circle.
She does not succeed.
As we each behold her
We are struck with awe by her beauty.

The Drumming gets quiet.

In the center of the circle
a blazing fire,
fueled by Frankincense and Myrrh,
snaps and coughs out smoke,
choking on released pain an failings the drummers fed it.
A flute soothes.
Its tender song floats upon the summer wind.

The drumming gets quiet.

Beneath swirling moonlit clouds
more friends arrive in the course of the night.
They are shadows until we recognize them
by the sounds of their voices.
They bring dogs.
Before beating their drums,
they speak softly of matters they care about.

As the drumming goes on,
Louder and louder from surrounding trees fields
frogs, birds, insects, and unknown creatures
join in , singing , chirping, and buzzing in harmonious rhythm.
Fireflies, shy at first, twinkle in growing numbers.

The drumming gets quiet.

Intermittently, throughout the night,
we think about why we are here:
For relief from the heaviness of the day;
To forgive ourselves for yielding to temptations;
To offer unconditional acceptance;
To free ourselves from obstacles
keeping us from helping the world.
We seek peace. We want to love better.
We want to say Thank You….
Nothing else is important.
These thoughts eventually melt into dreams.

The drumming gets quiet.

We set down our drums and embrace in a circle,
sharing blessings, singing Oms… and more Oms.
As we part, we notice a table is set
with nourishing food:
carrots, hummus, so delicious.
And how especially sweet –
eating juicy strawberries in the moonlight
with friends.