
I’m throwin’ down some wild rice and wild mushrooms on a flame, dancing, clapping, lapping the warm Malibuian currents lofting three California condors, majestic, soaring, uniting the sacred, healing, finding our lost souls up here at
Great Spirits Ranch, where every curve of mother earth contains divinity and water and free-flowing fruit fermenting in agave; where the air has an aura, a shimmer, vibrations of a billion butterflies bubbling drunk on life in a hilly magical place; or is it my vision or is it you or is it you and me and the nurturing nature of great spirits in synergy, all those who have come before and set themselves free from the great rock once adorned with wings…
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