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richard lloyd cederberg

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Books by richard lloyd cederberg
  communing with the Kwaaymii
by richard lloyd cederberg
Friday, December 11, 2009
Rated "PG" by the Author.

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           >> View all 113




Nature is man's teacher. She unfolds her treasures to his search, unseals his eye, illumes his mind, and purifies his heart; an influence breathes from all the sights and sounds of her existence.
Alfred Bernhard Nobel


In the rain shadows
Of the Cuyamaca Mountains,
At the confluence of Escondido Ravine and
Agua Dulce Creek, a river formed that flowed west
Through the Prado, into Lake of the Woods,
And finally down through Noble Canyon
West towards the Pacific Ocean

Raising our hands in respect we
Entered into the historical lands of
The Kumeyaay and the Kwaaymii
And were acknowledged by
The Ravens in a chorus of staccato
“Pruk pruk pruks” and gravely “kraa kraas”

Checking provisions
And cinching our packs,
We began our ascent. Traversing
A dense path above a creek we were
Startled by a family of Quail rustling in
The fallen leaves under the chaparral.
Foraging for daily nourishment
The chorus of their voices -
“Bee-oo-ah - bee-oo-ah - bee-oo-ah” -
Echoed softly on chill morning air

Further in we spied an ancient lake bed
And, on knolls thick with majestic Ponderosas,
Large flat rocks were etched with bedrock morteros
And metates - a reminder of the porridge meals made
Of acorns and seeds the kindred’s ate daily. Scattered in
The soil were shards of pottery once used for living,
And arrowheads once used for hunting. We were
Standing in the midst of them, and in our spirits
We could see them working, and we could
Hear them singing

“There’s something holy here,” Michele whispered.
“Look there,” I pointed. Above us a red-shouldered hawk
Dipped down and instructed us to think pure thoughts, and
That we were known and accepted

Long had we wanted to realize
More than our own knowingness’s,
More than our own superstitions,
To delve beyond what we felt, to
Touch the spirit of a culture
Reabsorbed now into the
Flow of times river,
An enigmatic people
Who understood naming
As an act of holy power,
Who understood
Living life as a melody;
An allegorical cycle
Of bird songs sung
In cantabile celebration

Around the periphery prickly pear cactus,
And Holly-leafed cherry bushes, were interspersed
With gnarled stands of Black Oaks riddled with mistletoe.
In the distance, nearer the lake, scrub-jay, sparrow,
Chickadee and mud-hen greeted the warming
Sunlight in a chorus of unrehearsed singing-
We were standing in the midst of them,
And in our spirits we could see
them beckoning

richard lloyd cederberg
12/09
        

richardlloydcederberg.com


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Reviewed by Leslie Hoffman 12/17/2009
Thank you, Richard, for the wondrous nature walk. Research being one of my passions, you have gifted me with a quest to learn more about the history of these peoples..."to touch the spirit of a culture."
~leslie
Reviewed by Regis Auffray 12/15/2009
Such fine description, Richard. Your love of nature and the outdoors shines throughout your verses. Thank you. Love and peace to you,

Regis
Reviewed by E T Waldron 12/13/2009
Sir Richard I felt like I just ate a gourmet dinner so divine,I 'm in a state of total contentment! what a splendid portrayal of a spiritual experience in nature so gloriously depicted. My new favorite of your poems!Bravo!

Merry Christmas to you and yours,
with Love,
Eileen
Reviewed by Ronald Hull 12/13/2009
Thank you for this wonderful deja vu. My brother has scoured Arizona for tracks of the people who once lived there, making some modest discoveries amid car trouble and heat exhaustion.

Ron
Reviewed by Sheila Roy 12/13/2009
It's a fantastic feeling to be at one with the surroundings and Mother Nature. This is a peaceful journey of discovery you take us on. I enjoyed it:)
Sheila
Reviewed by Debby & Gordon Rosenberg 12/12/2009
you've touched upon a sacred world, beautifully felt and described
Reviewed by John Flanagan 12/12/2009
Splendid writing, Richard,
full of freshness and richness, birdsong and call, an ambience of sanctity and reverence,

"...porridge meals made
Of acorns and seeds...;

"...cantabile celebration"

This is very fine indeed.

John
Reviewed by Patrick Granfors 12/12/2009
There is something magically refreshing about the back country, and if you let it, your local foothill. This reminds me a little of Carlos Costenadas. Patrick
Reviewed by Karen Vanderlaan 12/12/2009
beautiful sharing of such a deeply felt experience-love the lines:
An enigmatic people
Who understood naming
As an act of holy power,
Who understood
Living life as a melody;
Reviewed by Georg Mateos 12/12/2009
Thanks for taking me there and making me remember younger days when we could hike on the red woods of northern California and kept on going across the border until Oregon told us, "welcome"!

Georg

Reviewed by Dawn Anderson 12/11/2009
How well you take us there, Richard. Beautiful work.
Reviewed by C. McGovern-Bowen 12/11/2009
something holy indeed, richard.
beautifully expressed.
carolyn
Reviewed by Gene Williamson 12/11/2009
Splendid, Richard. This is one that demands to be reread and
savored again and again. Thanks for introducing me to the natural
wonders of the Kumeyaay and the Kwaaymii and beyond... -gene.
Reviewed by Bennett Kremen 12/11/2009
Thanks for the journey to such a place. In all our arrogance of hi-tech etc., etc., we are all only lost sheep who have strayed never to find our way back.
Reviewed by Marcia Miller-Twiford 12/11/2009
Thank you for sharing your journey Richard. After the reading I feel as though I was part of the experience also. Nature is the only therapist I've ever had a need for. She heals all ills and keeps my perspective on the right path..
Bless You,
Marcia
Reviewed by Liana Margiva 12/11/2009
Very nice!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader) 12/11/2009
To delve into the mysteries and perfections of nature in such a setting is truly made to order for the Pen of Richard. Very few, I can think of only one in my realm of poets, who can give the reader a description so vivid, and, what makes it unique, so mind-blowing surreal. To those who will scoff and say realism and surrealism cannot possibility coexist, I say to them horse feathers, then surely you have not read from the Pen of Richard . . .
Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner 12/11/2009
So beautiful, Richard, you take us there and make us hear and make us see - gorgeous. Well done.

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Reviewed by Peter Schlosser (Reader) 12/11/2009
Incredible writing. I'm familiar too with all these areas of which you speak. Gorgeous countryside. Well done.
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