languages and songs hold my hope for the world

 

Many languages are disappearing because lives and peoples, their cultures, are being absorbed by the more powerful cultures cutting into their worlds. The deepest wound this causes is to the connective tissue and knowledge base that people have to the land. Think of it like the tissue that you see when you peel a hard-boiled egg. Without catching that thin tissue just right, you can’t easily peel the egg. Language is that tenuous and continuous element that helps to hold the world together. It is remarkable for its place as matrix, mother and home to the living but also keeper of the wisdom and home to our ancestors and their store of knowledge; and if we’re fortunate, home to our future relatives. 

 

There are people designated as the keepers of their language. There are people who also understand the language of birds. And those who can recognize hundreds of bird songs. All of these languages and songs hold my hope for the world. May they always be heard; may they always be sung.

 

from bird dreams, riding hope, - sometimes a fable, weaving  our connections to birds,  meandering rivers and dragons, fermenting miso and consciousness,

wetlands, our extended kin and ancestors, our mentors, and Wisdom.

Inspired by actual events and a sense of place and belonging by a woman who addresses the reader  on behalf of the earth

 

 

thank you for your support

https://amzn.to/3F5N7No   
https://linktr.ee/fredakarpf

never fear that there is no creative energy left in you

 

Never fear that there is no creative energy left in you and that your time with the palette is done. I feared the void. I stayed away from my writing area as if it were contagious. Endless space, alone, cold, and without meaning, the void has been around. Sometimes, like a predator, it stays just outside the perimeter of my fire. It is loneliness. My marsh buddy, Mrs. Teale, once asked me, ‘How is your loneliness doing?” She could have smacked me on the hand with a bamboo stick.  Is it odd that my loneliness was a companion? We think we can control time. We track it, set limits for this activity or date memories. It’s just not feasible. The sun, the moon rise, the birds sing aubades, the morning songs, and some even the night songs. Night closes down and shadows caused by the sun disappear with the evening songs. Loneliness is like time. I am uncertain if it is the void but it exists. And it is doing just fine.

 

 

from bird dreams, riding hope, - sometimes a fable, weaving  our connections to birds,  meandering rivers and dragons, fermenting miso and consciousness,

wetlands, our extended kin and ancestors, our mentors, and Wisdom.

Inspired by actual events and a sense of place and belonging by a woman who addresses the reader  on behalf of the earth

 

 

thank you for your support

https://amzn.to/3F5N7No   
https://linktr.ee/fredakarpf