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Hello wild ones,
As of late, I tend to find myself oscillating between romantic wonder and love for this world, and deep dismay for what's to come of it all. There's a fissure; a great divide. We all feel it, and to some degree, we all participate.
I've been finding solace in the writings that poignantly capture this romance I feel with the world, while fully acknowledging the shortcomings of humanity. I picked up the book Braiding Sweetgrass the other night, and read aloud to my husband the remainder of a chapter we started reading in our backpacking tipi on a cold November night during my elk hunt last Fall.
This chapter told a tale of the Salmon runs on the Oregon Coast, both past and present. How the ritual fires of the headland, tended by the Nechesne people, served as a beacon of light, welcoming, calling the Salmon home. Only after four days of fish moving through the estuary, upstream to spawn, was the First Salmon harvested and carried upon a cedar plank in a bed of ferns to the ceremonial feast that honored these peoples relationship with the Salmon.
Robin Wall Kimmerer, the voice behind this book, spoke to the importance of ceremony and community in this chapter, two aspects of life I also hold in high regard. She states, "Ceremony focuses attention so that attention becomes intention. If you stand together and profess a thing before your community, it holds you accountable. Ceremonies transcend the boundaries of the individual and resonate beyond the human realm. These acts of reverence are powerfully pragmatic. These are ceremonies that magnify life."
Every chapter, my heart aches, and it heals. So, too, does this heart-breaking salve of human being happen to me, to us all, every day. Look beyond the culture wars, the political teams, the identity politics, the tribalism. I can see you on the other side; we are all human, and we share much more in common with one another than we like to acknowledge.
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