I was coming to that place that breathes me. The part of land where my roots migt be- or the closest equivalent thereof.
Then I stood there: among the silently swishing trees in a moss-grown stillness.
And i thought about the violation of order of things, here, in this place that has made of what i am. Of ancestors and how they become such. Of passing of generations and how that can be accomplished. Of the nature of exchange among the living beings and this earth that begets and consumes them.
The bonding with one’s homeland is tighter than seen at the first glance: we cannot depart from it that easily or without a great price. The price is our bodies that must become earth to give rise to new generations and so on. If/when this is violated, earth demands a penalty.
And it is right.
The violation of the order of precedence has broken something in me too deep to name or even comprehend.
Ancestors and earth
