Where the Green Ants Dream

A few weeks ago, I watched this 1984 film directed by Werner Herzog.

 

It touched me deeply.  Afterwards, I had no one with whom to discuss the film and all that it brought up for me.

Sometimes, putting my thoughts and feelings into a poem helps.

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Some days a sad gloom
descends
and the cello sounds like
melancholy
the sky is gray and
cloudy
Then I remember
again
that I miss you.

Last night, I watched
a Werner Herzog film,
Where the Green Ants Dream.
Aboriginal Australians
in opposition to
the mining company
blasting explosives
searching for what?
The green ants of
this sacred part of the desert
would be forced to move
taking with them the dreamscape
where the future of the peoples
is dreamed into being.

And I thought where the heck are you?
I need to talk to you about this.
My own thoughts are noisy and circular.
They make me dizzy with their roundabout.
You would challenge or agree, but at least
it wouldn’t be only me in reaction
to the air.

I wanted to ask you if you think we have
a good purpose here…the white folks?
If we are orchestrating our own doom
or if there is hope for us
If the planet and all of
its inhabitants would be saved?
Or would we be the lemmings
we seem to be?

Would you agree with
what the tribal elder said–
that we are we asking the stupid questions?
The ones we formulate with our small minds
the minds that aren’t inclusive.
The it’s-all-about-me mind,
the consumption-oriented mind.
I’d like to talk to you about this
before it’s too late.

Do we consider ourselves to be more
advanced
because we crafted these complex
systems?  Identified, classified, named things?
The very systems that distance us
further from nature, the earth and our origins?

Why can’t we be satisfied with not knowing,
with the mystery?

Are you hiding now
within that same mystery?

Remembering the Connection

invitation.2019

This is another theme of mine that replays itself.  Truly, I don’t understand how anyone (me included at times) canNOT see that everything affects everything.  When my daughters were young and watching Sesame Street, there was a cartoon that they replayed frequently.  It went something like this…If I pop my little brother’s balloon, he’s going to cry.  Mommy is going to come running.  He’s going to point his finger at me.  I’m going to get into trouble.

An effective example of actions with consequences.  So it is with our earth.  We are invited to share in the beauty and the bounty provided by nature.  And, it’s a wise thing to live sustainably and reciprocate in ways that we are able.  How we impact our planet, “our carbon footprint” for one, affects not only us, but the other creatures with whom we share this earth home.  And also, the generations to come.

This painting invites us into the forest and to receive the healing salve of being in nature.  It is an invitation requiring reciprocity.  Please respect this earth–home to many.

 

The Babushkas of Chernobyl

A few days ago, in a local cafe, a friend posed a question about the environment and morality.  Do we have a moral responsibility to protect the environment, not only for humans but for the other species with whom we share the planet?

He also asked “How did we arrive at this place of direness on the planet?”  “What is the source of our disconnect from the earth?”  And, “Is it too late?”  Good questions.

I have no answers.  I also sit with these questions and wonder what we can do to alter a course that seems bent on its way facilitated by humans who don’t seem to realize that
earth is our host planet, home.  And, that we have a responsibility to live in a reciprocal relationship to the earth.  Sustainability.  Why aren’t we awake to the facts that we are doing irreparable damage by the way we live?

Within his questions, was a sense of helplessness.  However, he was proposing that we discuss these things and other topics relevant to survival on planet earth.  Not to depress everyone but to wake ourselves up to the facts.  We can’t know what might arise from such discussions.  Growing awareness, brainstorming and potential answers.  No one really lives in isolation.  Everything is affected by everything.

****
I watched this documentary film, The Babushkas of Chernobyl, at another friend’s recommendation.  Afterwards, my initial feeling was that everyone should see this film.  I watched it through Amazon Prime.  It impacted me deeply for many reasons.

Fake It Until You Make It?

Have you experienced anything like this?

A couple of months ago, I attended an art opening.  I wasn’t feeling great.  Regardless, I wanted to attend this opening of two Native American artists, brothers.  One is a painter, the other a sculptor of animals.  I had been studying the mythologies of wise women archetypes, the energies that they represent.  This evening, I asked myself how did I want to presence myself.  I decided to stand taller than I felt.  I envisioned embodying the archetypes of the guardian, the alchemist and the priestess.

When I entered the gallery, one of the brothers approached me immediately and said “Haven’t we met before?” I answered, “No, I don’t think so.” A little while later, his sister approached me and asked the same question, “Haven’t we met before?” Again, “No, I don’t think so.” I told her that her brother had asked the same thing…somehow, I seemed  familiar to them.  Then, a third woman came up to me and repeated the same exact words!

This experience caused me to wonder about how we occupy ourselves.  I am timid.  I didn’t feel good.  Yet, when I called on the archetypes within, I was recognizable to others.  It was interesting to observe this and powerful too.  Yes, I did feel better by having invoked these archetypes which are within me…and you.  And it was reflected back to me by the responses from others.  

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An Aside
This art show was about caretaking the earth. The Native American culture has an ethic of earth preservation. This is illustrated in their art and stories. And in their ceremony, dance and song. The show was called “Reverence.”  I had an interesting conversation with the sister of the artists.  She collects rocks that reveal messages to her. One night she was instructed to go and find a stone. It was dark, mountain lions could be around. She followed the instructions, drove to a certain spot.  Even with her flashlight, she couldn’t find anything.  She got back in the car and was going to go home.  She was instructed to get out of the car once again. She obeyed and realized she was standing on a stone that was partially embedded in the earth. She pulled it free and brought it home. The next morning, she discovered three images in the stone.

Her story makes me wonder how well I listen to the instructions that come to me.

History Repeating

Last week, I attended an artist reception in a nearby community…the exhibit was entitled “Latent” and was about an area not very far from where I live.  Tulelake, CA.  The Modoc Indians once inhabited this land.  Here lies a sad and bloody history.

During World War II, this site became one of ten Japanese Internment Camps across the United States.

This same land, degraded and impoverished, has most recently been a shambles for migrant farm workers and/or meth labs.

The curators of this show, two young women photographers, visited the site several times and took present day photos.  They were battered by the heavy winds, astonished by the starkness of the land and confronted by local habitators as they took their photos.  They got a sense of the deep sorrow in the land itself.  Having researched the history of the area, along with the photos they took, they related the stories of this desolate place and the peoples who had lived there.

I’ve returned to see the exhibit a second time.  It’s almost too much for the psyche to take in the magnitude of this story.  I plan to go again.  One comment that I heard more than once as I attended the artist reception was “It’s happening again.”

There is a phrase that has been used to describe the importance of remembering history so that we don’t repeat it.  The phrase is “Lest we forget.”

Writing Prompt:
Is there something historical in the place where you live that shouldn’t be forgotten?  How would you tell this story, lest we forget?

Tulelake_welcome_sign.jpeg

 

 

 

Eternal Song

landscape3a
Eternal Song Abstract

Eternal Song
by Christine O’Brien

Eternal song
sang its way down river
as I perched upon rock relics.
Tree watchers nestled,
their tops leaned in closely
to catch wind’s whisper.
Omniscient sky
stood stalwart,
clouds camouflaging heaven.

Eternal song
pitched a tent
while sun dunked itself
behind ocean’s screen
and pointy stars tweaked
dark-veiled sky
standing stalwart.
Intruding moon
strung a beam
and lit up any thought of
privacy
while eternal song
softly hummed wisdom.

Dawn woke with a yawn
and a stretch
across sleepy landscape.
Twitters and chirps
startled the drowsy birds
awake.
Nudging cats begged
to be let outside.
That is,
the ones who hadn’t hidden from
“come home” calls the evening before
dallying in secret night caves.

Off-key roosters
crowed when the spirit
moved them.
Stalwart sky blushed from rose
to soft-spoken blue
as fading stars
vacationed in another part of the world.
Australia, perhaps.
And all those humans
built timepieces,
danced to another tune,
rushed to and from importance
and they hardly ever noticed
eternal song.

****
Did you notice the use of PERSONIFICATION in this poem?

 

Writing Prompt:
Earth, Air, Fire and Water.  The elements of our environment–these are our make-up also.  Choose an element and write your poem of appreciation.  Or weave them all together as I have done in this poem.  Three deep breaths, settle down and write.  The polishing can come later.