Journaling April 5

I know the texture of this soil, dark and deep black matter in furrows lying in their valleys. Having brought up what was buried and hidden with no intention, it was simply over-turned. For me a sadness has surfaced, come over with the turning like a blackened statue of the goddess, her meaning partly in the past. The farmer knows this is treasure.

My hands are rough and strong like those of my grandfathers and grandmothers. But next to me there stands a bird, a crane or heron and I know my place is not theirs here tilling this soil. The bird that lifted me off the grass, up with it in a pull of energy. I'm to follow it now. What does this mean here now? - not just the lift-off of youth, but also the sadness of what's been forgotten, hidden away, and lost.

And now this one white bird, and there is something in that white and strong, powerful wings with oiled feathers perfectly in place. Voyager. Bringer of something new. Vision is a powerful thing.

In the moment. My right foot down in mud and water. Down on firmness. And up and just above there is a different perspective. Gathering a view and dropping back down. It's hard to show the imagination in the midst of a busy square full of voices and happenings.

I'm not comfortable. It's awkward. I swallow, so easy to say silent at the margins, except it becomes painful after a while. And it keeps my feet on the ground and then I fly farther away. This is not freedom. It's being tethered with a long leash. Better to live in service and be free to leave.

This flight is the above mirroring the below. It's an illusion - going up is going below, and that's why everyone is keeping so busy flat on the ground. Change is not coming, change is here. There is no seeing above, or below, far into the future to plan for. There is seeing into now and realizing what it means for each of us. I know I feel alone and over-whelmed. I'm probably not alone in that.

The flight is into what we know that we don't remember. She resurfaces. The farmer knows his life has changed. It doesn't matter what she used to mean now the dark valleys are open to being known. He makes new meaning, one felt in his bones. He knows what he must do and he doesn't know how. The same for each of us. I need to look.