We celebrate many events through the year. Some are personal, some are cultural or religious, and some are national. Quite a few, I suspect, have their origins in the celebration of the natural world, and involve spiritual connections that we’ve mostly forgotten.
Driving through the countryside two days ago, I realized how happy I felt seeing the golden cornfields being harvested, the green soybeans turning yellow and rust on top, the warm sun shining in a deep blue sky with a cool breeze filled with the scent of crispness. Everything looked, smelled, and sounded as if the season, and the year, had reached its fullness of life.
As I helped Jim bag the Native American multi-colored corn called Smoke Signals, I celebrated how good it felt to be alive in a world of such variety and beauty. The crop wasn’t as large as anticipated because more deer survived last year’s mild winter, but I rejoiced in getting my hands dirty and for the harvest being brought in.
Showing posts with label Native American. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Native American. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
The Spirit Land
Sometimes we hear the voice or feel the presence of a family member who has died. But is it real?
When I hike in Yosemite, I feel the presence of Nature’s spirit. Coyote trots across the meadow with a smile. The wind whispers to me about tomorrow’s weather. Native Americans believe that all the members of creation are related to each other---the buffalo, mountains, human beings, rivers, and ravens. The Sioux pray to the Grandfathers to send messages to guide them. The Japanese build altars in their homes to help them communicate with their ancestors.
There is a trinity of days this time of year—All Hallows Eve, All Saints Day, and All Souls Day. The ancient Celtic people celebrated this time with an observance called Samhain, believing that the barrier between life and death thinned and people in both worlds could see and speak to each other. Latin American countries have a similar celebration called the Day of the Dead.
When we share with others, part of us begins to live in them, and this does not die when one of us does. I believe that the spiritual can be more real than the physical, and that matters of the spirit are not bound by laws that govern physical objects.
This year I want to listen more often to what I cannot see, trusting that what I feel is near.
When I hike in Yosemite, I feel the presence of Nature’s spirit. Coyote trots across the meadow with a smile. The wind whispers to me about tomorrow’s weather. Native Americans believe that all the members of creation are related to each other---the buffalo, mountains, human beings, rivers, and ravens. The Sioux pray to the Grandfathers to send messages to guide them. The Japanese build altars in their homes to help them communicate with their ancestors.
There is a trinity of days this time of year—All Hallows Eve, All Saints Day, and All Souls Day. The ancient Celtic people celebrated this time with an observance called Samhain, believing that the barrier between life and death thinned and people in both worlds could see and speak to each other. Latin American countries have a similar celebration called the Day of the Dead.
When we share with others, part of us begins to live in them, and this does not die when one of us does. I believe that the spiritual can be more real than the physical, and that matters of the spirit are not bound by laws that govern physical objects.
This year I want to listen more often to what I cannot see, trusting that what I feel is near.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Heirloom Corn
Last week I was at the farm shucking Mandan Bride corn. Commonly known as Indian corn, it’s one of the organic crops that Jim and Peggy are growing.
We talked as we worked, of course, about life, writing, sailing the Maine coast, and about relationships. We sat in the warm sun shucking and sorting corn, feeling connected to the earth, and to the Native Americans who once sat together like this and shucked corn in the fall. Food, fellowship, and work. A moment of eternity on a September afternoon.
We talked as we worked, of course, about life, writing, sailing the Maine coast, and about relationships. We sat in the warm sun shucking and sorting corn, feeling connected to the earth, and to the Native Americans who once sat together like this and shucked corn in the fall. Food, fellowship, and work. A moment of eternity on a September afternoon.
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