Tomorrow the three nights of 'ole begin and no new planting, projects, or moves happen. We are wrapping things up here, the medicine from the ledge in all its forms ... seen and unseen have been gathered. There will be time during the 'ole days and nights which start tomorrow (Thursday the 8th), to review, reflect and renew the commitment to Malama Aina (care for the place) and rid ourselves of the illusions.
Believing without seeing is the theme of the installment that follows. The fairy tale and myth-making that lives through Wood Crafting is a perfect reinforcement for Pete and me. We are taking steps to move to a place sight unseen...we have done that before in our journeys across Earth. It's easy to forget how faith-driven our life has been, blogging and putting the tale onto the cyberwalls leaves a tangible token.
We may not post for a bit of the while since our hitching up time will come after the 'ole moons have passed. Until next time,
Can you believe without seeing?
Written by Mokihana Calizar
Please enjoy the tale for your own pleasure,
but do not reprint it or copy it for any other purpose without permission from the author.
Believing without Seeing
Joshua Tree loved the land and trees that filled the deeply angled slopes surrounding the pond of Ever. Familiar to him since he was a boy, Josh knew everything about his trees. He worked in town and had little time on the trails for clearing downed limbs and rotted trees but his attentive eyes were always keen to the conditions on the glen. The sound of voices and laughter filled The Family’s mansion. Calliope and T.F. had promised to meet in the river bed mid-way between the lake and the pond of Ever. The river bed, now dry of run-off carved a shallow trail just below Josh and Anna’s porch. “Do you think he’s ever seen us?” Calliope asked as he slithered over the lichen-covered rock bed. “He’s a fully grown man with a love of the Tall Ones and yet he has reserved a connection between us that says something about his Grace. Is it easier you think, for some mortals to remain above water even when the pond of Ever draws everything and any being to the deepest parts?” The orange one was quite a philosopher with interests that always made Traveling Frog chuckle with delight. “Calliope, you of all beings ought to appreciate the changeable nature of a being.
The Swallows return to the glen just as Frogs and Salamanders make their seasonal journey to the lake. A pair of the long-winged split tail ancestors of Wood Crafters was engaged in acrobatics high above T.F. and his companion. What caught Traveling Frog’s eye was the shiny object trailing from one of the sky-divers. The object was large, big enough to weigh down the normally agile birds. The sun was near setting, but the slightest bit of brightness lit up the potential nest-building material. Too heavy even for the tenacious swallow, the shiny ring fell within an inch of Calliope. “I knew it would be too much to carry, but oh how I love a challenge,” Shelela of the Swallows flittered in the sky above then followed her treasure to the ground below. Never a ground-feeder or lover of things on the ground Shelela was nevertheless driven by the pursuit of shiny things. Traveling Frog recognized Shelela of the Swallows by the white markings outlining her lower eyelids. Shelela’s focus shifted and her eyes spied the purple caped and violet capped Lord of the Gypsies. Shelela lit on a slender branch of wild cherry. Breathless the swallow sang to Traveling Frog, “Well, Lord of the Gypsies, you are a sight for my own wandering eyes. Am I glad my precious shiny ring did not damage your fine violet cap?” Shelela answered her own question and bobbed a gleeful reply. Calliope had reached the ring, silver wrought and pink of stone and set about exploring it with his under-belly. “I’ll be thanking you for not leaving your glimmer of slime on my treasure there. Far too pretty a thing to be covered with Salamander goop.” In times past the swallow’s insults would have made the spots on Calliope’s back rise as if the words were steam enough to change the Salamander’s temperament. But cycles had passed between the two and this evening Calliope simply continued to coil around the ring and using his body’s scent glands exclaimed as truth, “This is a gift from the Bird, the Bird from The Ledge.” Shelela looked puzzled, a look quite common to the young Wood Crafter. “A gift from the Bird?” she asked. Her curiosity stirred, Shelela circled the sky above the two travelers and within a heart beat she had traversed the expanse of sky between river bed and the sloping terrain of The Ledge. The soft tan dome of the vardo was subtle yet unmistakably new to the land. Satisfied that there was some connection of truth in Calliope’s exclamation, Shelela returned to the limb of the cherry tree. “I found that beauty caught in the wet marshes of cattails just off the lake’s edge. Until this moment, I knew nothing of a Bird who brought gifts. Now I see there is a new …” Shelela was not sure she had the vocabulary for what she saw in her aerial survey. Traveling Frog supplied the words. “The Bird is a mortal, a woman and she has arrived in a wheeled wagon much like my own though much larger. She is a Bird called Lokea and in the litany of song she would be part of your lineage, your coil Shelela of the Swallows. That silvery ring with stone of pink quartz would be a gift meant for you.”
Shelela of the Swallows was barely forty and five cycles old. Her experiences were young and yet her warming had included the history of her ancestors Shenia and Shelela Wood. Yes, young Shelela of the Swallows is my own kin, distant as the