Threads weave subtle messages within the sadness of these times.
It is in the memory to stay awake, and keep
that fire of hope rekindled within.
Some days this is hard work.
Other days a walk within the trees
roots me to this beautiful place-
within my heart-
Roots me in Belonging.
I am remembering the second spring i planted corn-
Seed from seed that had grown on Vashon, passed
from friend to friend.
Kneeling down, i held the seed of Painted Mountain in my
left palm and felt a rush of understanding of all
who had planted this Seed's Ancestor Seed,
the connection felt an endless thread of
seed, hands, beaks, paws, plant, soil
seed saved and shared, cared for and tended.
In that moment, i felt: that if there is a
'God' -it is this Seed and the origins
of this Seed and the future of this Seed.
This was a deeply emotional moment for me and to recall it now, i can see where i was kneeling, looking at my hand holding the seeds i am about to plant- a prayer in its deepest form- an honoring that comes through the heart. Seeds come in many forms, and we plant them, with or without an understanding to the power of what we plant. I see this as a choice and a responsibility, as a radical offering.
Footnote: I recently read that the root of radical comes from the late Latin radicalis "of or having roots" and means "going to the root of things" I LOVE this!