In de Herfst en de Winter, wanneer Moeder Aarde bedekt is met een laag zonnig Blad en Witte dons, is er ruimte voor Storytelling. Maar ook wanneer de Lente en Zomer de Aarde fier en vurig in danst, is het heerlijk om te luisteren naar de Woorden die Moeder Aarde ons heeft ingefluisterd. Met je billen en voeten in het gras en de bries door je haren.

In the beginning there was the Skyworld.

She fell like a maple seed, pirouetting on an autumn breeze.*

A column of light streamed from a hole in the Skyworld, marking her path where only darkness had been before. It took her a long time to fall. In fear, or maybe hope, she clutched a bundle tightly in her hand.

Hurtling downward, she saw only dark water below. But in that emptiness there were many eyes gazing up at the sudden shaft of light. They saw there a small object, a mere dust mote in the beam. As it grew closer, they could see that it was a woman, arms outstretched, long black hair billowing behind as she spiraled toward them.

The geese nodded at one another and rose together from the water in a wave of goose music. She felt the beat of their wings as they flew beneath to break her fall. Far from the only home she’d ever known, she caught her breath at the warm embrace of soft feathers as they gently carried her downward. And so it began.

The geese could not hold the woman above the water for much longer, so they called a council to decide what to do. Resting on their wings, she saw them all gather: loons, otters, swans, beavers, fish of all kinds. A great turtle floated in their midst and offered his back for her to rest upon. Gratefully, she stepped from the goose wings onto the dome of his shell. The others understood that she needed land for her home and discussed how they might serve her need. The deep divers among them had heard of mud at the bottom of the water and agreed to go find some.

Loon dove first, but the distance was too far and after a long while he surfaced with nothing to show for his efforts. One by one, the other animals offered to help—Otter, Beaver, Sturgeon—but the depth, the darkness, and the pressures were too great for even the strongest of swimmers. They returned gasping for air with their heads ringing. Some did not return at all. Soon only little Muskrat was left, the weakest diver of all. He volunteered to go while the others looked on doubtfully. His small legs flailed as he worked his way downward and he was gone a very long time.

They waited and waited for him to return, fearing the worst for their relative, and, before long, a stream of bubbles rose with the small, limp body of the muskrat. He had given his life to aid this helpless human. But then the others noticed that his paw was tightly clenched and, when they opened it, there was a small handful of mud. Turtle said, “Here, put it on my back and I will hold it.”

Skywoman bent and spread the mud with her hands across the shell of the turtle. Moved by the extraordinary gifts of the animals, she sang in thanksgiving and then began to dance, her feet caressing the earth. The land grew and grew as she danced her thanks, from the dab of mud on Turtle’s back until the whole earth was made. Not by Skywoman alone, but from the alchemy of all the animals’ gifts coupled with her deep gratitude. Together they formed what we know today as Turtle Island, our home.

Like any good guest, Skywoman had not come empty-handed. The bundle was still clutched in her hand. When she toppled from the hole in the Skyworld she had reached out to grab onto the Tree of Life that grew there. In her grasp were branches—fruits and seeds of all kinds of plants. These she scattered onto the new ground and carefully tended each one until the world turned from brown to green. Sunlight streamed through the hole from the Skyworld, allowing the seeds to flourish. Wild grasses, flowers, trees, and medicines spread everywhere. And now that the animals, too, had plenty to eat, many came to live with her on Turtle Island.

* Adapted from oral tradition and Shenandoah and George, 1988.

Uit: Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer.

Een prachtig verhaal over Moeder Aarde, wat ik wel 10 keer heb gelezen. Het laat zien hoe wij als mens onlosmakelijk met elkaar zijn verbonden, elkaar nodig hebben, met Moeder Aarde als Bron van Leven, de baarmoeder, waar vanuit alles ontstaat. Alles wat ze representeert, de Elementen, de Dieren, de Planten, de Mineralen is en blijft een wezenlijke voeding – en inspiratiebron voor eenieder die er op leeft en er een Vruchtbare en Wederkerige Uitwisseling mee aan zal gaan. 

Het is wel een kunst om de Taal van onze Moeder te begrijpen. Het vraagt Tijd en Aandacht om te kijken, te voelen, te luisteren en te zien wat ze zegt. Hoe beter we zijn afgestemd zijn in de wezenlijke Verbinding, daarmee bedoel ik present in het Nu, hoe gemakkelijker het wordt om op een natuurlijk wijze (mee) te bewegen. In het Welzijn voor onszelf en ieder om ons heen. 

Door ons met een bepaald Ritueel of een andere beweging met de Natuur te identificeren zijn we in staat de Identiteit er van aan te nemen en te doorvoelen in die ervaring wat ze voor ons kan betekenen. Benieuwd naar de Rituelen en meer in verbinding met de Aarde? Kijk alvast hier bij Agua de Florida Ritueel en Despacho Ritueel en Moeder Aarde Cirkels.

” We do not inherit the Earth from our Ancestors. We borrow the Earth from our Children.