This week’s A Sense of Place post is on the Amazon Creek in Eugene, Oregon. I’m brutally in love with it, though its magicks are so strong that I sometimes fear its beautiful power.
I give offerings to the stream. The first time was a little weird. I stood over a bridge as homeless folk sat farther away in the grass, smoking marijuana. Perhaps to a stoner, a man pouring milk into a stream and muttering may seem no stranger than anything else people do, so I probably needn’t have felt shy. The second time was in daylight, and it was impossible to hide what I was doing, but I am, after all, in Eugene, and the stream is beautiful.
Dver has also written about it, and it was she who gifted me the altar mentioned in the essay.
The experience with the Great Blue Heron mentioned in the essay was awfully intense. It–I don’t know.
Also, on feeding crows. My best friend did this in Seattle daily, and after a few months, you could often tell when he was walking about because you’d hear the crows calling to each other, announcing his wanderings. Also, crow feathers everywhere. Not that I picked them up or anything, because that’s illegal and it’s not like I’m an anarchist or anything.
Be well, all of you.