Today has been spent trying to take care of 3 littles that are all not feeling good, and catching up on sleep, food, and relaxing.
Yesterday I got to take a walk further along the dirt road behind my apartment complex, and came upon what seems like the local smoking area for the teens at the high school next to us. The area was littered with trash, chopped down trees and broken branches, including a large log that had been turned into a fence post then discarded. It had rusted screws all along one side, and a sharpened end like a spear. It might have been someone else’s trash, but I could feel pain and indignation radiating from the whole place, but especially from this piece of a lost tree. My heart ached, and I tried to think of something I could do to make amends. I settled on making an offering, but the damage done was not something I could undo with food, water, or planting a tree/seed. My mind kept returning to a more serious type of offering, a part of me, something that required a sacrifice.
I pulled out my knife, and tried to slit my finger to drip blood onto the Earth. But I discovered the blade was too dull to be effective. I muttered to myself that cutting my flesh was harder than I expected it to be, and tried again, but was afraid to try too hard. Finally I used the serrated part of the blade on my pinkie’s cuticle, and was able to offer a few small drops. All the while there had been a strong breeze blowing, but when my blood welled up (which some encouraging squeezing on my part) all fell silent. As if holding its breath to see what I did next. I rubbed the dark red droplets on the end of the post, whispering “I’m so sorry”. The wind picked up as the offering was absorbed into the wood, and I stood feeling alien anger and pain coursing through my body.
I turned around glaring at the damage caused by so many unthinking people, and felt a burning rising from my chest, out through my fingers. A bitterness filled my mouth, like I swallowed copper pennies mixed with ashes, and I spat onto the center of the sitting area. Harsh words rose from my lips as I muttered a spell upon anyone who sought to use the area, binding their comfort to reparations to be make amends, that no comfort would be found until these actions would occur. I then found a small bare section of a branch, dusty and worn from being walked on, and after lovingly cleaning it off as best I could, I sank it into the ground propped up against an exposed tree root to seal my work.
I walked away further down the dirt road, and felt the winds swirling around me carrying the scents of rain and mossy ground. The ground behind me had pattering footsteps that seemed to skip along, watching me as I reached the end of the road, where a small school/daycare lies nestled next to a culvert nearly filled in by Birch trees and moss. I greeted the Birch trees and examined the softened ground for any trinkets, but only found living tree roots crisscrossing the ground like woody lace. I grumbled about having forgotten my camera, and promised I would get pictures soon.
After a few moments I began my return trip back up the road, and as my feet touched the dirt road, a sun beam cut across the muddy gravel and illuminated what I took to be white and clear quartz scattered among the granite and river stones. Two called to me, one smooth and white, one rough and partly clear. They warmed in my hands and informed me they belonged in my growing collection. As I reached the spot where I had stood earlier, I bid farewell to the post and tucked it back into the leaf litter.
About half way home (the dirt road connects to the main part of the road equaling about 1/2 a mile) I found a river stone that seemed to be in the shape of the Venus of Willendorf, so I carried it along until I reached a moss covered tree trunk that has shelf mushrooms nestled inside a hollow, and left the stone propped against it. She indicated that was her spot. The mossy hollow had called to me each walk I had taken before, but I hadn’t known why until I found the Goddess stone.
As I reached the house I greeted the fir trees in front, and discovered a small length of a branch etched with swirling marks that made animal faces appear at different angles. It joined the stones in my pocket to be added to my collection, and I thanked the tree for guiding me to it. I brought them in and washed them in warm water, leaving them to dry and warm up in the kitchen.