I guess there are always metaphors and reading between the lines...that is quite appropriate for my nature writing...and especially for those of you who know me and my wildness that has been unfolding over the past decade. So yeah...I can see where your interpretation(s) are coming from...[Sing Again – Blog] is a true account, a blend of the weather and a "bigger picture" scenario.
I really longed to be outdoors, but it was very raw and rainy...not a hard rain, a syncopated rain that as far as actual, individual raindrops, I saw (more than felt)...the drops were visible on the plastic greenhouse that covers my herb pots...I wasn't comfortable then, I preferred to sit by the fire with a cup of wild tea and plan the next thing.
As I was heading towards the house (where it was warm)...the wind picked up...and I heard a very loud, deep cry [of anguish]...at first I thought it was an animal, perhaps a moose. I stopped and listened again and figured out that it was a creaking tree. It was very distinctive. I waited and looked up the hill towards the edge of the grove where the huge white pines were swaying in the higher level of wind. Then I clearly heard many voices of the trees. It was magnificent yet borderline eerie. Once I focused on it, I liked it but because of the implied urgency, it was somewhat disturbing at the same time.
Their song was a profound expression of their pain and concern...yes they are still healing from the loss of their brothers and sisters, but their concerns are global and pertain to the healing of Mother Earth Herself. With the ongoing disturbances, toxicity and manipulating of nature that have been practiced for decades, we (inhabitants of this great green planet) need to pause, take notice and act responsibly. No more raping the forests, fracking, drilling into the crust, spilling and dumping toxins into the atmosphere and waters and earth, killing habitats and already fragile eco systems.
It was all in that song. I listened closely, inhabiting the beauty, power and melancholy of their message. I appreciate and honor them.
As I listened, I looked over at the crocuses that were moving and unbending in the wind. I do not have an unconscious death wish. I simply admire them for living gloriously and courageously in the moment. They are a symbol of strength. They do not question their existence; they simply are. I liked that in the midst of all else that was happening.
Thank you, Jelly Bean.
Journal: Babies Breath
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