I wanted to let that last post stand on its own, but also provide some background.
I’ve been spending some time, both earlier this winter/spring and just in the last few days, in the part of the country where I did most of my growing up. (We moved around a lot; this is the longest I lived in one place for the first 2-3 decades of my life.) It’s not “home” for me anymore, but I’ve realized that I do, actually, have a deep relationship to the landbase here.
Living in the area I do now and knowing that I’ll probably move again in the next few years can make it feel like I’m not allowed or not supposed to “put down roots” in the local landbase. This visit has made me realize that’s nonsense in a couple of different ways.
Roots are funny things – they grow when you’re not looking. I didn’t realize how much I had internalized of this area, so much that when I go on trance journeys, one of my favorite places to visit is a forest that looks like my idealization of the area across the street. And roots will sometimes hibernate – I can renew my relationship with this landbase easily.
In particular, I went outside to do devotions this morning, and I realized that a lot of my relationship with and awareness of this landbase was formed in those early morning hours of waiting for the school bus because that was one of the few times that I was outside, regularly, and being quiet and even, occasionally, observant. I didn’t know what I was doing, but in some ways, those times were when I first learned to meditate.
This gives me hope that the work I do with my current landbase will bear similar fruit: I will learn a bit more, grow a bit more, and will build a relationship that will never really leave me, even if I leave the land and mostly visit it internally. And it will help me learn how to build a relationship with whatever landbase I am in in the future.
I have to thank Hecate for putting into words the realization that pollen is the trees’ way of doing the Great Rite. (This can lead to some interesting and deeply bawdy reflections on pine cones that I will leave as an exercise for the reader.) Tis the season!