The Old Woman stands at the entrance of her cave, looking out at the day. Crunchy, crystalline frost coats most of what she can see, but a shroud of fog hangs low over the island today, covering the water. The fog has left a sheen of ice on the stone entrance where The Old Woman rests her tough, old hand. The low-angled light of winter bends through the cold moisture in the air, glancing off the frost and ice, producing a muted sort of glitter. As she watches, the fog shifts in small patches, like a woman lifting her long dress, revealing the smoothest ocean surface beneath.
I, too, love your mother-nurturant Tree of Life imagery. as Daisy Anne has pointed out.
“Long ago, the Trees of Life grew tall and broad, sharing their flowers, fruits, and nuts with the insects and animals who lived nearby. That time stretched on with its seasons and cycles, and the Trees taught those around them how to live in the rhythms of Life itself.”
And:
“…so that what appears to be a whole forest is actually only one mother Tree.”
I also enjoyed coming across your allusion to synthetic, civilization-addiction: “… or maybe they are imagining a future that looks like straight lines and shiny surfaces.”
And the eschewing the enclosure for the garden: “The Tree knows she found just the right person when the new inhabitant bypasses the house to go directly out into the garden.”
Thank you! The way I understand it, Indigenous peoples the world over have withstood wave after wave of colonial onslaught, succumbing at last to the comforts and conveniences promised by modern life. I get the impression that on its own, modern life isn't much of a temptation to current hunter-gatherers who still retain much of their meaning-embedded culture, but to the communities that have had to endure centuries of violence and the systematic dismantling of their cultures, perhaps the "straight lines and shiny surfaces" appear to offer a promise of a better life. The same seems to be true for what Martín Prechtel calls the "Indigenous Soul" of every person. For many of us who have only known the numbing distractions and the mundane quality of modern life, it's hard to even find the voice of our "Indigenous Soul," let alone listen to what it has to tell us about the deep magic and meaning waiting for us through hard work, simplification, and being open to connecting with other-than-human beings who have a thing or two to teach us, and who need us to help keep them alive, to tend their lives so that they can fulfill their purposes in this world, like the Trees of Life.
“Well, when her many trunks have grown tall and thick enough, she can offer some of them for weaving and building and firewood without losing them all. She can live many lifetimes-worth of trunks. For everyone must learn to adapt, including the Trees of Life.”
I, too, love your mother-nurturant Tree of Life imagery. as Daisy Anne has pointed out.
“Long ago, the Trees of Life grew tall and broad, sharing their flowers, fruits, and nuts with the insects and animals who lived nearby. That time stretched on with its seasons and cycles, and the Trees taught those around them how to live in the rhythms of Life itself.”
And:
“…so that what appears to be a whole forest is actually only one mother Tree.”
I also enjoyed coming across your allusion to synthetic, civilization-addiction: “… or maybe they are imagining a future that looks like straight lines and shiny surfaces.”
And the eschewing the enclosure for the garden: “The Tree knows she found just the right person when the new inhabitant bypasses the house to go directly out into the garden.”
Thank you! The way I understand it, Indigenous peoples the world over have withstood wave after wave of colonial onslaught, succumbing at last to the comforts and conveniences promised by modern life. I get the impression that on its own, modern life isn't much of a temptation to current hunter-gatherers who still retain much of their meaning-embedded culture, but to the communities that have had to endure centuries of violence and the systematic dismantling of their cultures, perhaps the "straight lines and shiny surfaces" appear to offer a promise of a better life. The same seems to be true for what Martín Prechtel calls the "Indigenous Soul" of every person. For many of us who have only known the numbing distractions and the mundane quality of modern life, it's hard to even find the voice of our "Indigenous Soul," let alone listen to what it has to tell us about the deep magic and meaning waiting for us through hard work, simplification, and being open to connecting with other-than-human beings who have a thing or two to teach us, and who need us to help keep them alive, to tend their lives so that they can fulfill their purposes in this world, like the Trees of Life.
Good story here, K.H.
Thank you, Andrew! I'm glad you appreciate it.
“Well, when her many trunks have grown tall and thick enough, she can offer some of them for weaving and building and firewood without losing them all. She can live many lifetimes-worth of trunks. For everyone must learn to adapt, including the Trees of Life.”
I love this. What a moving piece, thank you!
Thank you so much, Daisy! I am so glad you are finding meaning in my stories.