I was out walking this morning and saw a snake in the grass… OOPS that reference to politicians just slipped out…
As I was saying: I was out walking this morning—there really was a snake—and the thought crossed my mind how earth’s gravity keeps me from shooting off: who knows where to? This thought led to the question: “What does the name EARTH mean?” You know the one that keeps us all grounded.
EARTH has different names; however a common thread in all languages was derived from the same meaning in their origins: ground or soil.
Genesis 1:1 as a statement that the cosmos had an absolute beginning (In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth…)
Earth is the only planet in the Solar System with plate tectonics and consists of land, air, water and life.
Maybe walking isn’t good for my health after all? Oh Earth still grounds me—but to what?
We the People are living through a large-scale shooting off and none of us know where to.
Title and first paragraph below from The Agatha Christie Mystery Collection.
“…I sometimes wonder how things would have gone if I’d noticed at the time just that one essential detail that I never appreciated until so many years afterwards. If I had noticed it—well, I suppose the course of three lives would have been entirely altered. Somehow—that’s a very frightening thought.”
It was late at night and I couldn’t get to sleep so I grabbed one of Christie’s books and randomly opened to the page noted in the above paragraph. An irony, don’t you think, of how many ways our life lessons materialize; well at least until we learn them. I’ve assessed singular essential details throughout my years and like Christie writes: “I never appreciated until so many years afterwards.”
It is a frightening thought of how we impact others; with and without our awareness.
Our Bagherra is a substantial cat—older now—who thinks she IS the celebrated panther in The Jungle Book. In winter we find her near the heat register licking her shiny, coal-black fur. She doesn’t like it ruffled; ever! She has a few coffee-color marks on her chest; who knows from where in her family tree.
Bagherra’s favorite pose is a stretched-out body, head held high, with front paws crossed one over the other; no less regal than the stealth of any panther. She is a pound animal in more ways than one: large and fussy about her food and water; fresh, fresh, fresh and a full bowl, always! As a paranoid kitten she hid inside the wall insulation in the basement. Our remedy was to cover these holes with duct tape. Well, our basement was a room to just die for.
OKAY…NO! This is not another of those I love my cat stories; although I do. NO! It’s a story of growth: Bagherra’s and mine. It took our cat years to change: me too… I used insulation to shield my fears. I hid from life’s revelations. I watched who was friend or foe. I too sit closer to any warmth because my bones are older now.
Animals have instincts that are also ingrained in our DNA. The difference is they live it and we counter it thinking we know best.
Today I saw a Hawk soar above the acres of brown and green fields near my home. I knew his mission: breakfast. Yet the way in which he floated on air currents and flapped when he needed to turn and dove when he saw his prey… Well, that was just pure symmetry in motion. It got me to thinking that if I could fly like a Hawk might I see our troubled earth in a different way?
Approximating: Like the Hawk, we should each look pointedly at our changing world!
Would those homes I fly over with foreclosure signs in yards matter less? Or might their desertedness beg the question: Who turned their face while the laughter echoed and kept it turned when the eviction notices arrived?
Soaring will I see those who knew they could lose their life but still gathered by the thousands to reject the past in the world of our Arab sisters and brothers. If I dove nearer would I detect any change?
I love to rest high above the ground, sometimes in Rosewood trees. I heard the music in its branches long before the wood was honed and formed into guitars. Why, I wonder, is Rosewood so controversial at a time when we most require music to reach our worried souls?
I don’t share my meal with other hawks until I’m full or when I have babies. When I swoop down I see this is true below.
I smell odors in the sky above Japan that weren’t there before. Other hawks plummet to the ground and lie in the debris. Yet, the Japanese people still toil to build a new life for themselves and the Hawks.
We hawks like it that rats and pestilence invade below; providing more variety to feast on or complain about.
As I sit atop power poles, I pivot my head to see what is coming and what is no longer there.
My wings sense the changing seasons and I know I must store up my strength for what is yet to come.
Life and death play out below me and I’m glad my days are only about survival. I’ve never been close enough to the ground to see if it is so for others.