Wednesday, January 11, 2023

the old woman and morning songs, part 1

Summer days should not be taken for granted. Some start like spring and then slide into summer.  Beginning in August, some carry a wisp of change, some nostalgia. The light will feel different.  It is less direct.  Even though you might wish to deny it, you know that the days are sliding into fall. Mentor and I wer


e walking toward late afternoon and no matter how far into the season, the high noon sun was still proclaiming summer. It was a glorious day that started out with a twinge of melancholy because it was down to the autumnal 60’s. But it warmed toward the hope of summer at 79 by midday. 

The clouds by the river looked like taffeta and chiffon lifted and tossed by a skilled hand that could capture the air and then allow them to be moved by the wind to add another billow. The river was full of water. I watched Skunk dive and come up with the smallest fish. From where I stood it looked to be no more than four inches long but like many osprey, Skunk still did her flight around and cried out notifying that she had a meal. We both looked up to the bare limb where Skunk was attempting to shake the fish off her claw.

~ ~ ~

Why do old people wake so early? I am getting there myself. Or should I admit that I am there already? Is it like the osprey’s urge to migrate, but parceled out on a daily basis? And many feeling that there is so little time to do all that we dream of doing.  My mentor’s perspective on aging seems to be different than mine. She thinks in terms of energy and the comingling of spirits. Cosmic soup and the dance. I believe that I have forgotten a lot of important things. Like some say about children, so able to see and converse with spirits but losing that connection as they enter the school system.  I wonder if I was that way as a kid and also forgot the many connections I now welcome. It is clear as I’ve gotten older that I have a sense of urgency about the wetlands and birds, and all of nature. And, this urgency is woven into my belief that all who I love and have loved are a part of the ecos. At stake is my connections to my ancestors, the world I love and want to know will continue.

There is something about the beauty of the land and water that is impossible to put into words. It is a feeling. I believe that it is also something like photosynthesis takes place when we are captured by the beauty.  There’s a  dynamic exchange we’re experiencing and that is why myself and others just want to remain in the presence of the trees we love, or the water that draws us near, or the mountains.   

 

from the old woman and morning songs ~ 12 in 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

 

Here’s my links for more writing and copies of my books

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

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