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A Speaking Sky

A Speaking Sky, originally uploaded by elefanterosado.

I learned the term “speaking sky” from an Indian Shaman when I did a week stint in the Mojave desert years ago. We were out there under the stars, possibly smoking peyote (I’ll deny this in court) and he said “Phoenix-Crest, you will sit and soon hear the speaking sky.” Twenty-five minutes later the clouds rolled in, thunder and lighting commenced, but not a drop of rain. It all happened in a Mojave minute. (Or a peyote minute-which I will continue to deny to the authorities.)

He said afterward: “Listen to the sky, because it speaks. And it always speaks to bird-children. When you are in doubt, fear, or turmoil, you must always remember to listen to the sky. Because that is where you soar.”

I think for a few years now I’ve not been listening to said sky.

Andy Brooks, photographer, poet and reformed misanthrope

My friend Andy gave me the title for this photo. I’d never thought about the particular qualities of New England skies before, other than their propensity to turn a miserable bleak shade of gray in winter.

But the other day, when I saw this glorious orange tree stretching its branches against the mottled blue and white backdrop of ethereal loveliness I thought: “Yeah, now I get what he means.”

Thanks Andy.