I remember playing with dirt, playing doctor using a cardboard
shoe box as my medicine bag, and running up and down the block playing
ringalario. This was city block-long hide and seek that went past dinnertime
and into the evening. I do not remember any imaginary friends, other than those
I spoke to on the porch when I would pretend to have a gathering. Through all
my playing on my block as a kid, I remember a close connection to the ground,
the air always felt like a layer of skin, probably because I was always sweaty.
Love nature wasn’t something self-directed or self-conscious of self anything.
It just was. I never wanted to be inside.
~ ~ ~
The business of the world might make it seem we are
indifferent to the movements of energy and spirit. My experience in my
journey-lands tells me that Grandmother and her peeps are not spending any time
worrying about what I, or the people that move in the world with me, have
forgotten. They always seem connected to an ongoing endeavor. Although, it is
also true, except for some hurried lessons where I might be flown to different
locations, they seem to be relaxed and enjoying the sun on their face or the
company of their community. They appreciate the everyday cycles of come and
go. I remember sitting at the edge of
the small marsh in my journey-lands with Grandmother and watching the
insouciant movement of the marsh hawk as it lifted or descended into the
marsh’s tall blond grasses. Part owl, part bird, the marsh hawk, or Northern
Harrier, has all ways a bird can hunt covered. They not only see with the
telescopic vision of a hawk but they hear with the precision of an owl. It is
not a good thing to be a mouse in a marsh with a Harrier around.
I have only seen a marsh hawk here once but hawks, as bold and
daring as they are, can be stealth. I suspect they have traced their spirits
through the trees and over the river many times. My osprey must know.
I mentioned the marsh hawk to my mentor hoping she was as fond
of them as I was. She listened and then
said something that had the effect of waking me up, although I was sure that I
was already alert. It seemed unrelated but she began talking about the Old
Woman. I remembered her. She was the same one that admonished me in a vision so
many years ago. The Old Woman. I didn’t know how much in common my mentor and I
had to those in other realms. Mentor said the Old Woman was known to be snappy
but wise. And yes, Mentor, said, “She
was known as the Old Woman.”
“I have a story about her.” And she related how one day she
listened in on the Old Woman giving a lesson. The Old Woman seemed to be
speaking to the tops of trees. My mentor said she did not see anyone there, yet
the Old Woman talked and paused as if someone was listening. She told the trees
that dragons might exist so that they can walk the dragon’s elemental world and
whatever world the being they inhabit represents. For instance, she taught,
that could be half water dragon and half human. It could be an otter. Although
half otter half dragons were quite a lot to handle in the otter community. And
it could be a rock or mineral. Half galena, half dragon. “Galena”, the Old
Woman sang, “lead smooth sea.” My mentor only knew some of this dragon
information and said it was a rare privilege to hear the Old Woman speak.
Clearly, she had great familiarity with the topic. My mentor wondered aloud if she herself was
half woman, half dragon.
My mentor suspected that even though her hiding place seemed
to have perfect camouflage, that the Old Woman knew she was there. She had not
intended to hide from her. Mentor was walking down the path in the
journey-lands, where, and this I know as well, Grandmother would often walk,
when she heard a noise off to the right.
Some bushes were disturbed and not knowing what to expect, my mentor
said she took cover behind a hedge of sweet pepper bushes. She thought,
whatever or whoever it was, even her smell would be hidden by the flowers’
sweetness that curled into the warm air.
The Old Woman continued her lecture, “All beings, even mountains or
small boulders that roll down the mountains can have dragons in them.” She
seemed to scold when she said, “Even turtles can be half dragons.” My mentor wondered about this. This was new
information for her at that time. I
wanted to interrupt but she was in the reverie of her story. Even I, so quick
to ask questions, needing to know all the permutations of the five W’s at once,
recognized this as a time to listen. But
my mentor included me in her reverie. She asked me, “Why would a dragon take
residence in another being?”
Ah, but she wasn’t really asking me because she was quick to
answer her own question. “Some things are unknown and I live with their
mysteries. But I believe it’s so that they can walk or be in the world as the
turtle or human so that they can understand. They can only do this if they know
how that being is in the world.”
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
