Listening To The Vines #4

This reflection came along after spending some time on the land and in my home garden.

We all have a mother tongue that centers Earth. No matter who you are, living on this planet—go back far enough, and you will access ancestors who lived as Earth. There was no separation.

Somewhere along the way, a group of others came and decided your Earth-connected ways were no longer approved of.

This violent—and sometimes not so violent—stripping created a chasm so huge between human and nature that generations on Earth would feel homeless for lifetimes.

The reclamation of my mother tongue—the language of Earth as she speaks to, from, and through me—is a journey worth walking.

We all have the ability to remember. The question is: Will we? Will we put forth the effort to disconnect from false matrix systems and reconnect to the original, organic matrix?

Each morning, I check in with the dirt, the rocks, the wind, and the sky. This is my daily news report. What’s going on in the world is written in the bird’s song and the spider’s web. What I need to know will be felt from the roots of the trees.

Take your shoes off sometime. Plant your feet in the dirt and just listen to what you need to know. Consider that what you want to know may be irrelevant.

This morning, the woodpecker brought the message to cut back the vines. So in the a.m. hours, I worked with the vines.

Untwisting, unraveling, releasing
Pulling, clipping, shifting

There were two types of vines. One was prickly, with little thorns, and trailed up the side of the wall. It needed help to climb—it didn’t have wrapping tendrils. Her body was wiry. This one I had to pay close attention to. Her wiry body would whip around and bite me if I wasn’t looking. Gently, I worked with her, careful not to get caught up.

The other vine had spread far and wide. Her roots were established in many areas, and she was pure wildness. Many of her tendrils were strong, and cutting them loose was the only option. There were vines that clung to the house, they climbed higher and higher but were easy to pull away. I first I thought, this is going to be hard because they are so high, but down they came with a slight tug.

I worked in those vines a good hour or more, listening to their wisdom. Letting them teach me the art of negotiation, patience, and participation with presence. They showed me what to look out for in the coming days and weeks—what was here in the field and what lessons I have just completed. There was so much more, and I just let it widen me.

Earth-centered existence is remembering my deep kinship to the wider.

In rekindling my relationship with nature, the language of my original kinfolk is restored.

I am restored.

And. There is nothing like being welcomed home.

If remembering your mother tongue is calling you, consider stepping outside today, plant your feet in the dirt and listen.

I also invite you to a new play place. Check out our sprouting community the Wild Wider— a place to tend, to our untamed heart and remember the wild wisdom of Earth existing.

Thank You~ Chonteau