~ From my sketchbook writings, Thursday April 5th, 2012 ~
I saw the first amethyst blooms of the lupines today. I don't know why that flower holds such a potency in my heart. Why it makes me feel hoary and timeworn, even as they spring up from the sandy earth in a flush of youth.
This brings me to the ancestors. My own lineage is pockmarked with great holes of unknowing which leaves me free to wonder:
Have my people always needed water, great, dark rushing bodies and the physical sensation of tides? Were they struck dumb, hearts cracked open at the permeating energy of ancient redwoods? Did they always wear feathers in their hair, were they always the familiars of the red hawks? Did they believe the white tailed deer understood them, and feel a sympathetic trembling in their tendons? Did they scan the undergrowth for ferns before staking camp, did they run fingers along spore spines? Did they whisper wishes for raven calls at sunrise and gray foxes in the night? Did they leave a lock of hair for the cedar, offer the best blackberry to the birds, gift song to the sweet peas, and rock on their heels, breathing thanks for stone treasures, wood treasures, bone treasures?
I guess what I'm truly asking is this:
Did they realize, each Spring, just how much breath they held waiting for the lupines to bloom?
* * *
This brings me to the ancestors. My own lineage is pockmarked with great holes of unknowing which leaves me free to wonder:
Have my people always needed water, great, dark rushing bodies and the physical sensation of tides? Were they struck dumb, hearts cracked open at the permeating energy of ancient redwoods? Did they always wear feathers in their hair, were they always the familiars of the red hawks? Did they believe the white tailed deer understood them, and feel a sympathetic trembling in their tendons? Did they scan the undergrowth for ferns before staking camp, did they run fingers along spore spines? Did they whisper wishes for raven calls at sunrise and gray foxes in the night? Did they leave a lock of hair for the cedar, offer the best blackberry to the birds, gift song to the sweet peas, and rock on their heels, breathing thanks for stone treasures, wood treasures, bone treasures?
I guess what I'm truly asking is this:
Did they realize, each Spring, just how much breath they held waiting for the lupines to bloom?
* * *
7 comments:
Beautiful questions. Spring and all of its unfurling & blooming always elicits a sigh & then a deep, much needed inhale from me.
lupines: so majestically strong and out-reaching. so starry in their leaves, their flowers reaching for the skies. so hinterlandish.
I feel "a sympathetic trembling in my tendons."
Breathing thanks.
This plant looks like Wild Blue Indigo :) - I saw my first last night and also posted it. Love
the blue!
http://sandradunn.blogspot.com/2012/04/feast-and-flint.html
beautiful....
this I know for sure about your ancestors
they were rooted
strong
reaching for the sky in wonderment
forging forward
even while lingering
I see them in you
love and light
Yes. Hippies give birth to more hippies.
Beth - Well said, well said.
Foxy - Don't you just love them, lose yourself in them?
Jenna - xox
Sandra - I just took a look; I think they are one and the same!
Cat - All love. Thank you for your words.
CRM - Well naturally, I almost exited the womb wearing birkenstocks. ;)
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