In the quiet of the early morning
The colors of autumn

Listening to a deeper way

Be still, they say.

From "Walking" by Linda Hogan (from Dwellings: A Spiritual History of the Living World):

"John Hay, in The Immortal Wilderness, has written: 'There are occasions when you can hear the mysterious language of the Earth, in water, or coming through the trees, emanating from the mosses, seeping through the undercurrents of the soil, but you have to be willing to wait and receive.' Sometimes I hear it talking. The light of the sunflower was one language, but there are others more audible. Once, in the redwood forest, I heard a beat, something like a drum or a heart coming from the ground and trees and wind. That underground current stirred a kind of knowing inside me, a kinship and longing, a dream barely remembered that disappeared back to the body....

Watch.

"Tonight, I walk. I am watching the sky. I think of the people who came before me and how they knew the placement of the stars in the sky, watching the moving sun long and hard enough to witness how a certain angle of light touched a stone only once a year. Without written records, they knew the gods of every night, the small, fine details of the world around them and the immensity above them.

"Walking, I can almost hear the redwoods beating....It is a world of elemental attention, of all things working together, listening to what speaks in the blood. Whichever road I follow, I walk in the land of many gods, and they love and eat one another. Walking, I am listening to a deeper way. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands."

And listen.

Aho mitakuye oysasin.

Comments

How did I miss this post over the weekend? This has to be my favorite quote so far. 'You are the result of the love of thousands.' It makes my head spin to contemplate. I am going to print this out, pin it above my desk and read it often.

Just ordered the Linda Hogan book based on the quotes here. Can't wait to read it.

I love the feeling the words and photos give of being enplaced and enwrapped by the land. That "Watch" photo is truly gorgeous, Terri, so painterly and bucolic, the trees so friendly and warm.

'How did I miss this post over the weekend?' I said this to myself, Cynthia Rose... yes the quote is a lullaby.

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