Introducing myself to the rock

"We cross borders without regard, ignorant or arrogant of the protocol native to the transitional spaces that take us from this place to that place. Traditions remembered and practiced would maintain and pass along the right things to do, at the right time, and in the right frame of mind. Have we all become wanderers with passports unstamped with the memory of teachings from the Ancestors and Nature? There are rituals to remember and common magic to induce respect and reverence for the beings and places that share this planet." - Introduction to medicine story "The Safety Pin Cafe"

listen more often to things than to beings
listen more often to things than to beings
tis the ancestors breath when the fire’s voice is heard
tis the ancestors breath in the voice of the water
those who have died have never, never left
the Dead are not under the earth
they are in the rustling trees, they are in the groaning woods
they are in the crying grass, they are in the moaning rocks
the Dead are not under the earth
so listen more often to things than to beings
listen more often to things than to beings
tis the ancestors breath when the fire’s voice is heard
tis the ancestors breath in the voice of the water
those who have died have never, never left
the Dead have a pact with the living
they are in the woman’s breast
they are in the wailing child
they are with us in the home
they are with us in the crowd
the Dead have a pact with the living
so listen more often to things than to beings
listen more often to things than to beings
tis the ancestors breath when the fire’s voice is heard
tis the ancestors breath in the voice of the water
listen more often to things than to beings
listen more often to things than to beings
tis the ancestors breath when the fire’s voice is heard
tis the ancestors breath in the voice of the water
Breath of the Ancestors -
Birago Diop (1906-1989) Senegalese poet and story-teller, a prominent African francophone writer, who recorded traditional oral folktales of the Wolof people

We are just back from more exploration. This process of moving is unpredictably convergent; things are coming together in unexpected ways sometimes in larger fashion than anticipated and certainly involving more people and events than we prepared for. All of us involved are not young people, we are well into our sixties and nearly seventy. The exploration we do today is more often conversations with people. We all come with our passions, our perceptions, our opinions. We are negotiating a place with the land that is shared by many people doing things.

Yesterday when Pete and I were out at the land we are hoping will be home for us at least for the winter, I stopped and introduced myself to the large rock pictured above. "Hello Pohaku, I am Mokihana, this is my voice and the feel of my hand. I would like to be your neighbor for awhile." I felt the pohaku and opened my heart to the possibility of being here day and night for a time. I was introducing myself and asking permission from the rock.

Now I listen for the voices, that sweet honey in the rock. Thank you Amy for reminding me that Sweet Honey in the Rock is precisely what I need to be listening for ... so I might hear the Ancestors' voices.