Another in my series of Sonoma Stories: mythology for a sacred landscape of meaning. It was summer, and the great Sun was in love. He stretched his warm arms down to stroke the soft green of Sonoma’s belly, and everywhere he touched the grass grew tall, the leaves spread wide for him.  How he loved her! He couldn’t help but want to come closer.  Obsessed by her beauty, dazzled by the wide artistry in her diverse creation, he brought his flaming face close until the slopes of her body toasted golden, till the streams dried and the Animal People (who were the only ones living here then) cowered under the wilting oaks against…

Another in my series of Sonoma Stories: mythology for a sacred landscape of meaning. Around here, before the Lost People pushed their way in and started building cities, this used to be Bear country.  Bear’s still here, but she keeps to the hills and doesn’t come down around the valleys so often now.  Before we came, though—always remember, we are Lost People, too, and it’s a hard job finding yourself, you have to keep looking every day—anyway, before we came along, Bear was pretty much the biggest and toughest person around.  If the First People were fishing or gathering tules for baskets, and Bear wanted that place for fishing, well,…

There was a night—long, long ago—when we had captured fire. This was many years before we knew how to make it. We found it in a tree which had been struck by lightning, carried it in a gourd to where we made a camp. And that night, we gathered around where the fire was fed to grow fat and snapping. We saw one another’s faces in the flickering light, and felt the warmth even in the dead of night. It was a miracle. No predator would dare come near. And we were all together, in a circle, about the dancing, magical fire. One night, meat was plentiful. A man named…