I walked the same paths daily, noticing the smallest changes; stones out of place, fallen limbs, changes in the river and bog, the pond and the bank. The turn of seasons; spring’s green, the heaviness of summer, and the slow turning of autumn. The weather rolling in, and the drama of storms in field and forest. I was tracking the movements of the sun and moon and their changes throughout the months. Following the movements of the constellations rotating through the year, and the planets as they tracked slowly from horizon to horizon.
I began to better understand my feelings for places. When I entered an area that had been left undisturbed I could feel the large spirit of the place. There were powerful forces at work, from mantras to mountains, and my own guides, and spirits left behind in these places. In Tennessee I was in areas of great power and disturbance, walking on the Trail of Tears, in the heart of slavery, and in the battlefields of the Civil War. The work was preparing me for the next door that would open, and the most meaningful work of my life.
Over time I was becoming more open through the writing. I found myself moving from a conscious pursuit of connection to being more connected. My writing and my outlook were improving, my awareness and receptivity was growing. As these gifts increased, messages in the land became more frequent as if I was being guided. I was being shown that we are a force for change, for recognizing and creating beauty, and for transforming one kind of experience into another.
This has been a powerful awakening for me, and one that empowers these small poems with great potential. Their strength goes beyond the stain of ink on paper, back to the tree and the root, into the forest beyond, stirring cloud and sky with messages of growth and transition. With word of reflected cycles and circles, with tales of the fruit transforming the root.
