Welcome to the 14th launch of BlogBlast For Peace aka Dona nobis pacem in the Blogosphere.
Our theme this year is Change Your Climate. Many are choosing to write about global climate change. Others are choosing to write about the need to change their own personal climates in order to create peaceful spaces for themselves ( ie: eliminating stress, self-care). I have chosen the latter.
Please sign the Mr. Linky at the end of this post so that others may visit you and see the beautiful peace globes throughout the Blogosphere. Remember to tag me on Facebook or wherever you are on social media. Thank you for being a part of this community of peace bloggers. Your words are powerful and important to all of us. May we lift and encourage in our quest for a peaceful more sustainable planet earth. Grant us peace!
Bathing In Persimmon Trees
stand in the Light.
Made of flax. Faith. Fiber. Custom. Tradition. Tribe. Toxicity. Untruth.
Even and especially love.
Whether they remain tied and woven into the next generation depends not on the strength of the cotton, but on the spinning of the pattern. Twisted legacies take whole life spans to unspin. It requires laser-sharp discernment and a willingness to plant a new field. To begin a better story. Harvesting new tribes is not for the faint-of-heart. My mother was anything but faint.
warm water washing down my back.
I felt the heaviness of long tangled hair.
Soap.
And her hands in my hair.
I wanted so much to know her and understand her better and all that mysterious weaving in the spirit. Those strands had names. They had stories. But there wasn't time and she was gone. What made her so unbreakable? What stopped her from untying the last piece of tangled life and freeing herself? What kind of woman knows by instinct and love how to run straight into battle for her daughter? That's the indestructible mother I longed to fully know.
When I felt she had no faith in my endeavors or no understanding of my independence, in hindsight, now, I wonder if the moment under the towel defined the way she would forever try to keep me from straying too far into unfamiliar territory. As I spread my wings to fly away, perhaps her holding on was the only way of protecting me. Perspective.
Standing under the canopy of trees gives me courage and strengthens my vulnerability - that delicate balance between authenticity and prudence. It resembles the act of protection and trust. Intimacy and connection. You might not have a lifetime or even a decent swath of moments like these with the people you love.
But it only takes one.
Divine grace echoes on the walls of my heart.
My mother's grace reverberates decades later.
And she is the reason that I can stand uncovered in a field of persimmon trees
without fear
without shame
without scars
I finally learned to accept all our twisted roads and fallen places. How she tried to exhume the genesis of those invisible threads in her hands, never quite finding where the first broken piece began and the last continued.
You see them, don't you Mimi?
She died before she could unravel all the threads
But she deposited in me just enough spitfire to keep my end of the peace treaty intact:
To leave the untelling on the kitchen floor
To live without hiding behind trees
To forgive those who want to see me broken
To be open and brave when your words need wording
and to be loud in the most vulnerable of places
and that's why I need trees
Had you told me a year ago that people can feel energy from trees, I would have silently patted you on the head and sent you on your way. And yet, since her death six months ago, I find myself running to the forest on my mountain, sitting for hours in the sanctuary of their branches. Breathing in oxygen. Absorbing life into the cells of my stress-laden body.
Finding the Mother trees. They shelter the young saplings and strategically branch out in directions that give them the most nourishment from the sun.
Did you know there are mother trees?
We are made stronger when we understand where we came from
when we uncover what is hurting us
We discover which branches are strong and which need pruning.
I am learning to be thankful for the miles of memories that created me
all of them
Safety sometimes lies in being unseen
but never in being unheard.
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