Erm…just to make it a little more elegant (and solvable) I’ve changed the ending of the scholarship riddle. I apologize for my meddling in your feverish riddle-solving. We all have a little OCD elf we need to feed now and then.

See there…
Going down red in the west
the heart of the sun dips itself
into waters
and gives birth
to a Serpent of Life
like a many-legged centipede
here I touch
and feel scales
there I touch
and feel soft fur
she breathes hot on my face
and I feel refreshed
the rot of old worries and ways
evaporates
with the steam
and smoke.

Those first to answer correctly will fill a limited number of scholarship slots. If you have a strong need for financial assistance, please express that and we’ll factor that in too. Send answers to mythic (dot) cartographer (at) gmail (dot) com. We’ll also factor in to the evaluation of riddle answers the work you put into solving it, so feel free to show the line of your exploration, in an eloquent fashion, in arriving at your answer.

Without further ado:

See there…
Going down red in the west
the heart of the sun dips itself
into waters
and gives birth
to a many-legged Serpent of Life
here I touch
and feel scales
there I touch
and feel soft fur
she breathes hot on my face
and I feel refreshed
the rot of old worries and ways
evaporates
with the steam
and smoke.

I’ve just opened up a space for SHIFT every 3:30pm Saturday at the Peace Full Soul, 4940 NE 16th, just south off Alberta street, in Portland, Oregon.

If you just thought “SHIFT? WTF?”, listen up:

At SHIFT we move as animals, as mountains, as rivers, as trees, we learn to use our bodies powerfully and gracefully, whether in self-defense, or simply to move like ghosts in the wilderness (urban or otherwise). SHIFT happens both indoors and outdoors; for the coming rainy season we feel happy to have an indoor space to move in part of the time.

We dance and play as otter.
We gruffly stamp as bear.
We stand immovable as mountain.
We breathe and shelter like cedar.
We drum our rhythm like ocean.

We SHIFT into the wild.

We ask for a $5 to $10 donation to help pay for the space.

For a long time, I’ve wanted to write about the renewal of the culture of “the body”, but writing about the experience of the body seems paradoxical. However, I can’t really hold it in anymore, I’ve had so many beautiful experiences lately connecting to this subject.

All the while I grew up, my father used to go on rants (now you know where I get the habit) about “the joy of labor”, full of references to stories of Jack London, my father’s adventures as a merchant marine, and his days as a longshoreman on the wharf in San Francisco. I remember how I responded then: “Gimme a break, Dad! I know what you want to pull over me. Chores suck, you can’t hide that!”.

Now. In fairness to myself, my father’s unique rhetorical style intrinsically tended to inspire his audiences to put up their defenses, and resist his messages. However, I still really missed out on the profound secret that he had to share.

Yes, another secret. And, like all secrets, we’ve hidden it best by leaving it in plain sight.

This secret concerns the world of the body, and those who play in the body’s world.

What does the secret contain? That this world exists, has its own languages, landscapes, cultures, riddles, its own vast joyful dimension. The extent to which our ability to enter this world atrophies, surely must determine the extent to which we can understand ourselves, our moods, our passions and hungers, our dream life, both waking and sleeping.

To not play in this world means that you do not know yourself. To not play in this world at the very least seals the terms of the domestication of your spirit.