I have a little story to tell. Not everyone will hear the story. They will read my words, but they won’t hear the message. This is especially for those who have ears to hear.
Saturday morning I rose early, unable to sleep from the pain in my back. I carried my bones downstairs, in the dark, and prepared some coffee. Sometimes, the dark is a comfort to me. It’s hard to explain, but it’s far from gothic. It’s more along the lines of needing dark to balance light. But that’s another story, perhaps.
Once the dawn started to break, I moved outside. To put my feet on the soil. To listen. To sink my pain in the earth. The silence was brilliant. No city sounds, very little bird song. Just the sound of a breeze every now and again. Then, quite suddenly, I heard what sounded like something moving through the brush, quite loudly, but not in a disconcerting way. I looked up and noticed that the branches of this tree we’re moving very energetically, up and down, side to side; dancing, to be honest.
This felt very different from just watching wind move through a tree. The movements were elegant and graceful. So, I checked to see if any of the other plants or trees were moving in such a manner. Nothing. No breeze near me. Just this dance, for what seemed like ten minutes. Then, It stopped and I noticed that the birds had started singing.
There were no buds on this tree yesterday. Today, it is alive with new growth. I am fairly certain that I witnessed a moment of a life affirming awakening yesterday morning. This afternoon, as I realized how differently this tree looked, it dawned even further on me that I may have been in the right place, at the right time, to have had an opportunity to hear the land in such a profound and magical way.
I whispered giizaagiin and miigwechto the tree, on the wind. And made a promise to keep listening.