Numinous Fields

numina |ˈn(y)oōmənə|
plural form of numen .
numen |ˈn(y)oōmən|
noun ( pl. -mina |-mənə|)
the spirit or divine power presiding over a thing or place.
ORIGIN early 17th cent.: from Latin.



numinous
adjective
the numinous beauty of these ancient relics: spiritual, religious, divine, holy, sacred; mysterious, otherworldly, unearthly, transcendent.

from the Latin, numin=divine power
numinous |ˈn(y)oōmənəs|
adjective
having a strong religious or spiritual quality; indicating or suggesting the presence of a divinity : the strange, numinous beauty of this ancient landmark.
ORIGIN mid 17th cent.: from Latin numen, numin- ‘divine power’ + -ous .




Crane migration 2015

My crane painting migrated to his new home in October.  We installed him in his chambers at the Federal court house on the sixth floor facing northward. He can look out across the vast expanse of the city as the real birds fly in and out of Albuquerque. Now, as the Sandhill cranes - the Grus canadensises- are moving south, they are landing in small family groups and larger flocks all along the Rio Grande corridor.  It is my favorite time of year.

One day last week, my friend, Elise and I drove in the late afternoon to the Bernardo wildlife refuge where we had seen the cranes last year.  It is a place of wide open corn fields, numinous fields, planted specifically for the cranes near to the Rio Grande river. An open space reserved for the birds to rest for the winter, it is a sacred space.

As the late afternoon sun crawls behind billowing clouds and the moon is still hidden behind the mountain, Sandia, we see "fingers" of God (a hundred shining rays of sunlight) touching earth as we approach the refuge.

A lone Great Blue Heron is in a ditch when we cross over  in my bulky vehicle.  We disturb him when we stop to look at him and he moves away from us on his massive wings.  Elise spots a large garden spider in it’s web further connecting us to this vast web of life. As we come around the loop road a second time, my friend notices a pair of Red-tailed hawks ahead  in a bare-branched tree.  We brake and watch them as one flies out to hunt and then circles around in front of us and out of view.

Many groups of cranes, in flapping- wing formation come in low to roost for the night.  We hear their calling as they fly in overhead.  And later we track them by the sound of their converations down a ditch road, like we are on safari.  

A male pheasant steps out from a corn row, his ringed neck
a clear sign of something continuous.
The sky is full with glory colors: lavenders, pinks and many blues.
Sunset is another miracle to witness as we look west from a bridge over the Rio Grande.  The yellow- leafed trees reflect into the muddy water.  And then the full moon rises, a pure white glistening disc, massive through the undulating clouds to the east.  I am aware of the many directions of life manifesting above, below and all around us. Numinous fields.