Remember The Turtle
This night is sultry. The night sky is hidden under a veil of haze. The air -- still and thick. My lungs burn and my breath is short and choppy. Summer is upon us once more. The true colors of life seem smothered under a blanket of ozone. The weather mimics my own emotions. My spirit is smothered by the stress of serious health issues. As the air is still and heavy, I too feel crushed by the weight of this burden almost unable to move -- and then only with great effort.
I feel weak in my beliefs. My emotions rise and fall as the tides. The teachings have allowed me to help others -- why can I not help myself?
Time drifts by my tormented mind. The black night sky has now brightened to a red glow. Today will be an oppressive one. The sun already stings my skin with hot piercing rays. The morning sky yields a warning of storms to come.
There is also a softness this morning. As the horizon brightens from a soft glow the busy chatter of many birds comes alive in the pines. My heart is lifted with the stir of all this new life. I again remember it is the beginning of a new day and a new life once more for myself. I am grateful to see another day be birthed. Aho
The dew hangs heavy on all the lush vegetation. The ravens voices now rise above the other birds in the forest. Soon they fly out of the trees and into a clearing before me. They hop about and seem to scold. I am not intimidated - I am happy to see my friends and my heart stirs with affection for these large black winged brothers.
One calls and flies ahead of me. He is lost for now in the tall beech trees lining the river. I step onto the bank and look out over a large red sphere hanging over the water's edge at the horizon. The water sparkles and glistens. My ears hear a familiar song that is sung by my friend the Hidden River - highway to my ancestors. The sun warms my face and the Old Ones memories warm my heart.
The river runs full from the storms the day before. On a rock of smooth gray stands the black foot of a large Canadian Goose. The other foot is tucked up out of sight and her head is buried in her wing. She has not yet stirred to the awakening of this new day. Her peace somehow transcends my own heart.
The undergrowth is made up of mountain laurel and honeysuckle. The air is pungent with a wild perfume. The sweet over bearing odor of the honey suckle is kept low by the high humidity.
The delicate green of the deer fern is broken by small islands of white. The snow ball clusters of small white flowers blanket the tall laurel bushes of waxy green leaves. The raspberry bushes are choked with the individual white petals soon to be replaced by lush fruits loved by birds,bears, and myself :).
Slower areas of the river are blanketed by big green leaves of lily pads. On long slender necks of green are the tight buds of yellow that soon will open into delicate blooms of the water lily. Frogs are heard croaking, but the lilies do not give up their visitors hiding places.
Overhead large heart shaped leaves of the catalpa tree are separated by white flowers floating to the ground. In some places they-resemble a fresh snow as the carpet of white is so thick. In amongst the white petals can be found yellow -- red tulip shaped leaves. The blossoms have fallen from the tulip poplar. Both the flower and seed pods resemble the tulip flower.
A small voice scolds. It is the little chipmunk. He sits on a tree trunk of three feet in height -- all that remains of a small oak tree snapped off in a storm. The little figure of brown with black stripes is framed by wild raspberry and honeysuckle draped over the stump. White and yellow blossoms highlight the green frame. The sweet smell soothes my irritated mind.
>From amongst the lily pads a disturbance is heard. A mother wood duck guides her family of seven small fluff balls of soft brown and black to safety from this danger -- me. Little does she know I am honored that she shows her little brood to me even if it is from fear.
A dark shadow glides below the surface of the slowly moving water of the shallow. It rises closer to the surface. It is a mature musk turtle. On land they are slow and cumbersome. In the water they are graceful and weightless. I watch this little friend maneuver. She rises and dives, turns gracefully, and just floats below the surface so delicately. I am reminded the turtle has given us this land. I am reminded the turtle is resourceful and determined. I am reminded the turtle never turns back. I am reminded the turtle is at home in the water. I am reminded the turtle is small yet has out smarted bear and antelope.
I am reminded this is Unami land - Turtle. I remember the lesson of my friend the turtle and the burden I was carrying begins to lighten. It is good to stand on Unami land, it is good to remember the Old Ones, it is good to hear the hidden river sing to me as it did to my ancestors, and it is good to be like the turtle. I feel a change coming to my spirit a new energy allows me to once again move forward.
The weather again mimics my path. For now the air blows with a renewed purpose. The thunder rumbles in the distance. The sweet smell of rain again is on the air. The oppressive heat and humidity have been replaced with a cool breeze. Soon the storm will be upon me -- my journey is over for now.
Remember the Turtle
written by ShyHawk(FM)
late spring 2002
Visit and show your support for the Grass Roots Oyate http://members.tripod.com/GrassRootsOyate Clemency for Leonard Peltier. Sign the Petition. http://petitiononline.com/Release/petition.html
==^================================================================ This email was sent to: [email protected] EASY UNSUBSCRIBE click here: http://topica.com/u/?b1ddNB.b2HgmN Or send an email to: [EMAIL PROTECTED] T O P I C A -- Register now to manage your mail! http://www.topica.com/partner/tag02/register ==^================================================================
