Traveling Companions Severin 9.22.2014 As the growing season comes to a close Before the harvests must come in We know the bounty before us And can anticipate the joys And challenges To come with the long winter. The fields are grown, Bags and cups, baskets and casks Prepared to keep us warm until The sun renews the earth And soothes our tempers. In these last few long days We travel to the sacred places The places where we go Each year. Each time we seek solace Or ask for healing Of mind, of body, of spirit. We remember those weve lost. We celebrate those weve found. And we renew before The long winters duality Of strong work and long rest. A guide shared the trips path Told others to come Prepared the way. Made all commit to the journey With the permanence of Natures fall bounty sent Hand to hand from a beloved mother In the Willow Valley The Norse gathered their people Made fire. Made it safe For those who would come. Their daughters came with Their guides and protectors, An easy journey to come home. A burden of preparing lifted from The journeys start. A laughing sleep overtook Them all. Satisfied with the making of fire. Satisfied with the making of home. Satisfied with coming and making The group whole again. A gentle rain washed clean the day And brought light to the ground To the leaves To the threshes And the gentle willows Guarding their brook. Two groups gathered Each with their guides To make the journey of their ancestors. The cart, the basket, The humble bags Of people seeking. The German, French, English, Norse. The quiet tongues of the shy. The gathering of the ages Leaving behind silks for woolens, Slippers for sturdy boots, and frivolities for turnips. Only the most reliable tools made the journey. The candles of bees wax That will not melt, only burn. Food stuffs tucked in. Early bounty selected to nourish The journey or please the pallette. Clever things. Humble things. A compass to guide the way. Water in cup, in vessel, in hope, in vain. The two groups walked and left in their paths, The things not worthy of the journey. Left in the pathway for others to find Or for them to return to the earth. Each step taught gentle lessons. The quiet conversations. The gentle help at hand As the path changed and Followed the contours of this new land. The valleys presence seen In the gentle smoke rising To the sky. Entering at last the valley, Setting down bundle and basket. Drinking barley, Toasting more than the journeys completion. The new family made. The warm stew and sweetened Rabbit so defiant before its end. A quiet moment. The stew pots emptied of their basket contents. Turnips and dill pulled out from the blankets. Onions shared. Knives flashing in the afternoons light. A busy fire, one that did not yet know the job ahead of it. Strong drink. Laughter. Talking. Always talking. The kind of talking that all together Makes the music of intimacy Of companionship Of living well with others On the Falls Journey. Bellies as full as day was light. Sharing. Sharing kit Sharing camp Sharing story Sharing laughter. Slowing as the day turned dark The moon hiding its presence Beneath the ground. Leaving only the stars The fire The sounds of life The distant sound of ocean Calling all for the next part of the journey. Slowly, slowly the conversation slowed. Slowly, slowly the last of the fires heat Was taken to the shelters Kept safe in the wool Kept safe in the bodies of the others Shared as ointment Against the cool damp earth. Slowly the fires warmth soothed Blanketed travelers ringing its girth. This is a place to remember, This other home. This is a path to remember, This Fall Journey. This is a time to remember, The companionship of others. Living in the paths of ancestors. Allowing simplicity. Remembering to take only what is needed. Thinking ahead to the next celebration The next gathering The next journey With joy and hope and love For each other, For the quiet times For the journeys to and from. And now my traveling companions Have returned to their other homes After visiting home for the journey. To my other home, I took Willow Valley visit During the turning of the seasons. I slept the sound sleep Of a journey well made. As I slowly awakened, And in that moment of sleeps dawn, I reached for my companions And felt them, not with their Bodies heat, But in my heart.
Posted on: Tue, 23 Sep 2014 14:41:01 +0000
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