Tag: nature

Wandering Tortoise and the ripple across the Pond

Wandering Tortoise continued his walk into the Ancient Forest.

He made his way through the ground growth, fallen tree’s, aging bushes seemed to offer a path that those who looked.

The air rich in forest smells, and the air seemed wet to breath, pleasant, He inhaled deeply, he thought he could almost feel the air enter his veins.

The scent was rich, dense “almost like food” he thought.

The light was interesting as well, like no single source, just from above that could make it through the thick branches above.

He listened to the slight rumble of a creek.

He walked towards it, listening to the ravens, crows and insects. The occasional scamper of another squirrel.

He climbed over a couple of fallen trees, ducked under some brambles and found himself next to the creek.

Slow moving, deeper than he had expected and it fed a small pool before it formed into a creek again and on down a hill.

He sat at the edge of the pool and pulled out some dried meat and began to enjoy the coolness of the pond, the slight rumble it shared and he watched dragonflies catch gnats on frog lilies and zoom back and forth.

They began to clear away from the pond, and he noticed the forest had become oddly quiet.

There were no more birds flying above, there were no sounds or scolding Squirrel people

Just silence.

Odd he thought as he listened to his breath.

“I’ve been expecting you Wandering Tortoise”

Said a gruff old voice.

Wandering Tortoise looked around and realized the voice hadn’t come from a particular direction, but from inside his head.

So odd he thought.

It said again,

“Wandering Tortoise”

“I’m here” he answered, “who is there?”

“They call me, Tashgooka”

“Tashgooka, where are you?” asked Wandering Tortoise.

Then the voice came to his ears from across the pond.

Tashgooka appeared on a log that he had sworn was just a broken stump a minute before.

Tashgooka was huge, Hairy, in fact, all hair, like a bear would be furred.

His face was somehow human, not quite, but certainly not bear.

“ I have not seen your people before Tashgooka, is this your home or are you like me, a Wanderer?.

“My people are not like yours, this is my home, and I wander, everywhere I go is home.

Which is why we are speaking today and I have allowed you to see me.

My people knew this day was coming and our people’s should speak.”

“Are you the first people’s the Squirrel just told me about?”

“That is one way to put it” answered Tashgooka,

“We have been here since the Mother was first created.

We have been here as longer than the bear, longer than the wolves, longer than the Oysters in your shores”

Wandering Tortoise could not imagine what came before Oysters, or the Animals, but wanted to accept Tashgookas word.

“I am glad to talk to you Tashgooka,

I have so many questions, first, how did you know my name, and

How did you come to expect me and I’m curious what your people wish to know about us.?”

“ I will keep our encounter short Wandering Tortoise he said.

Our people are concerned about you and your place with the Mother,

We disagree with the creator for your existence.”

Taken aback by such a statement, Wandering Tortoise answered.

He made sure there was no anger or defense in his voice.

“The Creator has wisdom in all things, every creature has a place and in his mind a purpose”

Tashgooka answered with slow gentle tone to his voice:

“We agree all creatures have purpose, and they do so without question, they do so with full acceptance of who they are and how they conduct their lives.

Their spirits are strong, They do not live one life externally, and one life internally.

Wandering Tortoise had never been confronted with this thought before.

“please explain” asked Wandering Tortoise.

Tashgooka was silent for a moment,

Then explained.

“your people have structures to your worship of the great spirit.

Ceremonies, tools and artwork.

For you your spirit is an activity, a separation from your living in the moment.

All other animals do not need such methods, they are, as they are, connected to the great spirit, and the Mother.

Art is not necessary, separation of spirit is not necessary

And because you have a separation of the spirit, you see art as a function that is similar to your spirit.

And it is here that your existence, puts the Mother at risk as well as all other creatures”

“Tashgooka,”

Wandering Tortoise answered

Then he lingered with the thought.

He wanted to understand what this creature was saying.

Tashgooka was silent and just gazed at him with no expectation of a response.

“We have much to talk about Tashgooka,

You seem to know about us and how we think, but we know nothing about you and your methods or thoughts”

“Wandering Tortoise Tashgooka said.

I do not wish to share much more than this,

Heed my words, consider them, know that I am part of this forest, part of the Mother and have reason to share this information with you.

“ You are a very confusing creature answered Wandering Tortoise,

He watched a breeze ripple it’s way across the Pond, then looked back

Tashgooka was gone, no stump now, just gone.

Sounds started to return to the forest.

Birds were flying, the dragonflies returned.

Wandering Tortoise breathed in the air.

How am I going to share this with my people?

And what exactly were his thoughts.

Wandering Tortoise turned back to the way he came.

He made a sound that scolded the Squirrel.

Wandering Tortoise Meets the Squirrel

Wandering Tortoise found himself deep into a part of the forest he had never been to before.

It’s scent thick with

Moss and ferns, large trunks of Cedar Giants by any measure he had seen seemed to be grown with bushes of Ivy’s at their base.

Thick branches with their cones ready to drop with seed.

It was a place where it was difficult to determine the time of day,

As the heavy branches filtered the light and the fauna seemed soaked with wetness.

Sounds engulfed the air with creatures of all types living in branches, the ground cover, skipping and hopping to branches.

Crow’s and Raven, Woodpeckers and the small ones busy carrying Nesting supplies and catching insects.

A surprised squirrel scolded him as it ran from the ground then up the tree next to him.

The Squirrel stopped it’s scolding and spoke to him.

Human, you are standing where you should not.

Have you not heard of this place?

“Squirrel”, Wandering Tortoise replied;

“This is the farthest I have journeyed from my Village.

I find this as beautiful of an area as the Creator has made.”

“Human, the Squirrel replied;

This forest has been here Eons before you were conceived of by the Creator.”

“That would explain the size of these Cedars” said Wandering Tortoise.

“This is home to the first peoples of the Forest.

The ones that came before you, and will most likely be here after your people have left our Mother,”

“Leave our Mother Earth? Asked Wandering Tortoise, He could not imagine what the Squirrel meant.

Nor could he imagine what other people he was talking about, he had never come across other humans in his travels,

Just peoples of other villages.

“I offer this advice” Squirrel said,

“Listen to the Hairy people, they are protectors of the forest and have been here longer than even the Squirrel people know”

With those words spoken, the Squirrel headed up the Giant Cedar, scampered across branches and out of sight.

What an interesting fellow thought Wandering Tortoise.

I had no idea there were humans before the creator sent us here.

I’ve never been lied to by any creature; they have no reason to lie to humans.

However, it seme’s to me that if there were others before us. We would have known by now.

Wandering Tortoise realized long ago the Creator with all his imagination and ability could never be understood.

And with that thought held in his mind was all the Justification for all that surrounded him.

Accepting whatever the Great Spirit offered, new or strange.

Was the reason he was here on the Mother Earth.

He clicked his tongue to make a sound as similar to the Squirrel as he could.

Letting the Squirrel people know that he was thanking them for their advice.

Cabin in the Mountain of Forests

Please download this free ebook as a thank you for reading my posts and a wish for a Happy and Joyous New Year, the beautiful illustrations are by a friend and HS classmate, Cynthia Jones Maglaqui

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As there is always Sun, there is always Waves

Then there is air,
A Spray,
A Full Light

It starts at the muffled bottom.

murky

Subtle pull back, then forth

Tumultuous tossing

There is pressure, then release

Pulled up towards the light

There is sound with it

Wider, then tighter

Freedom, then confinement.

Light, then Dark,

Like a pendulum, a swing,

A dance that swirls

And bubbles

Then there is Air

A spray

A Full Light.

A Wind Carries Droplet’s

Each a prism under the Sun

Some Evaporating into the air,

Some will become

the Hiss that Covers the Shore, then goes silent.

The Water recedes as it gets ready to release its spray again,

Then Again

Then Again

Then Again

Then Again

And

Always.

As there is always Sun, there is Always Waves.

Molten then Rock

It is a Rock that feels warmth, then cold, then warmth.

This for the Rock is how it began.

First in fire, then cooled.

Pressure formed its shape.

Constant churning of

Atmosphere, layers of earth, dirt, water, more stones

Tumbled from the depths to the surface over

Centuries, over Eon’s

Over a vast, endless period of time

The churning is a constant

To the Stone,

To the Creatures that walk upon it,

Toss it, build with it, Carve it

It is a constant in their lifetime.

Solid as a Rock.

The Rock will feel the light of days,

Coolness of Nights,

It feels the duality of time,

 Creatures that speedily

Live their lives above the ground, then return to the Earth

As waste, then repeat their cycles through dirt,

Grass, Plants, Bugs, Prey, Predator

It will feel the landmasses float on magma as they

Crash into each other

Push up mountains, bury and squeeze Oceans into

Rivers and lakes.

The Rock will ride a land mass below the surface, be

Churned into hot lava to be spit up again,

Churned with other Molten Rock,

Spit up again to cool under the Sun, then the Moon

 As they take their tangent infinite spins.

This is the Nature of Rock

It’s sense of time is not Daylight then Nighttime.

It is to be Mountains, then Stones, then Landmasses

Then Lava, then Mountains, then Stones, then Landmasses.

Molten, then Rock

Molten, then Rock

Molten, then Rock

A Moment of Nothingness

Leaving room in the air

It was between Stars missing its Moon

and on a field

Of once Sun-Drenched Grass

Crickets stopped rubbing their legs

Leaving room in the air for the sound of

the Breeze as it finished its brush with the tips

Of the Grass

It’s a Pause

A Stop

Empty Air looking to be filled

By something long distanced

That is missing its Moon

Its Sun-Drenched Grass

It is a sound that doesn’t come

The Pause of the Grass Hesitates

The Sun Missing Stars Blink

It is a moment of Nothingness

As broad as there is Horizons.

As quickly

The Breeze enters from the North

Begins to move the tips of the Grass

The Stars Blink

And Crickets

Restart their Stridulation

It is Eon’s of ion’s and Rock’s

All Edges of Land Meet Water

It is Eons of Ion’s and Rock’s

All edges of land meet water.

With the rotation of the Earth,

The Breath of the Wind,

Waves Splash on Rocks.

It is:

Eons,

 Ions

and

Rocks.

It is a Shield and Spear Paradox

That makes Sand.

This is why Sand is appropriate for an Hourglass.

To Each

Grain

Of

Sand

It is Eons of Ion’s and Rock’s

June Under Full Moon

In the woods, just a few yards West from Woods Lake.
I had cleared a small area for a cabin

It was the year I was living in Monroe,

In the woods, just a few yards west of Woods lake.

I had cleared a small area for a small cabin

Some nights I slept in a tent, some nights I slept at a buddy’s abandoned house about 2 or 3 miles down the road.

The Property is 11 miles north of Highway 2,

It is mostly 2nd growth cedars now, 1st growth was taken in the 60s, though there are some stumps left from a fire that was started by lightening.

One of which a hundred yards or so from the build sight had been hollowed out by time, dirt floor, empty space of maybe a 7 foot diameter

The top 6 or so feet up was shaped like a cave.

I had placed a foldable chair and small table there for sitting,

Of which I would do so often, listen to the rain dance on leaves, or wind play with branches an occasional deer would walk by and not even notice that I was sitting there with my cup of tea.

It was an escape into this tree that I liked the best of Monroe.

There is something indescribable about being inside of a tree trunk unseen while you watch the weather, birds and creatures.

Something like a live action tv I guess with smell of wood, leaves, dirt and rot, no one knows that you are there.

It is a peace that I can only imagine one can find when they are truly separated from the world and all its dysfunctional hustle and bustle.

We think of Full Moons as magical, beautiful and mysterious, I guess we do so for its folklore.

I will say, the woods are different under Full Moons, trees and paths are lit at night, you can walk and see your feet, where you are going, you can see subtle shades of green, browns, reds.

There are also shadows.

Shadows of differing greys and shapes, they move with the clouds that come between you and the moon, this accents the sounds of moving branches and leaves that the breeze or wind, or small creatures make. Creatures are busier, Owls, Coyotes, Raccoons, Mice.

It is their time, they take advantage of the moon and the deer are aware.

This is where being in a Hallowed out Old Growth Cedar is a Harbor,

The breeze will enter, swirl inside its cave, give you the scents of the forest, exit with the sounds of the breeze, of the wind, of the branches of the leaves

and the sounds of a hoot owl.