Contact us at: whispernthunder1@gmail.comLiving in the Sacred
~ Orannhawk
I hold my land in trust. The deed is in my name,
as are the taxes I pay each year. According to
the paperwork, I own it. That is a point of view.
I prefer to see it as the land trusts me to care
for it, to keep the overgrowth of mesquites in
check yet allow them to be in their natural state
as much as possible. I talk to the land, to the
thorns on the mesquites, to the turkey and deer
that come to the feeders, hidden from view from the others beyond the fence lines. I leave offering regularly, as I was taught as a child. I speak to the Old Ones who walked here, the ones that come out of the tree line at the creek, elusive and unseen by most.
The spotted fawns follow the does and graze under their watch, and I see several bucks in velvet, including one that surely carries the bloodline from a black buck I watched several years ago. The fences are being rebuilt, senderas are being created, allowing breaks within the mesquites. The Croton is seriously out of control, high enough that the deer are only visible from the upper neck up. While it does give the deer and turkey cover from the outside world, it is providing more camouflage for the nope ropes and feral hogs than I would prefer. Croton is commonly known as dove weed here, providing ample seed
for dove, quail, and turkey, as well as other seed eating birds. Some of the vast sea of weed will be cut, to allow the natural grasses to grow back.
I have loved this land since childhood, and I have seen things there that others would fear or disbelieve. All land is sacred, yet it does not always reveal the mysteries to everyone. The often-used statement you can’t see the forest for the trees is a good example.
My Papaw and my dad both talked with me about the seen and unseen, and the balance of all things. It is a sacred space of kinship with the Old Ones, with nature, with yourself and Creator. A few years ago, I shared a story with a former neighbor, a Vietnam Veteran who is now among the Old Ones. I mentioned the numerous times I had been on my property, or on leases with my parents growing up, where I merged with the land, with the sacred, and wildlife would walk within two to three feet of me, before realizing I was standing there.He laughed and said he knew of many who did that when they were on a mission, to avoid detection. He added one of his squad mates said he simply became a tree. There was more to that, of course, but that is another story.
We are in a time now of uncertainty, where individuals walk among us, impersonating, masquerading, and intimidating. They cannot see reality, or the forest for the trees. The disconnection with the sacred is blatantly apparent among them. Pristine Sacred lands held safely secured from any additional ravaging of mining, drilling and mass production are now falling into the hands of small minds who seek nothing more than the money that would fill their coffers. The impact of this on our people, on all people, and our natural resources will be devastating to say the least.
We must stand as reminders that we are entrusted with preserving and protecting our lands and resources. Every month, I am contacted by mail, email, and phone by “investors” wanting to buy my property. Unfortunately, if your name is listed on the title, it is public record, and these so called “investors” are circling like common vultures. It does not matter how small the property is, there is always someone ready to jump at the chance to slice up the land and create yet another housing development.
The delusions of Manifest Destiny persist even today, on multiple levels. It is disturbing to say the very least. My connection with the Old Ones, the stories I grew up with, the songs from both the land and the animals who trust me, keep me focused on the Sacred. I listen and watch for signs. Today, it came as a Crow, wings partially swept down as it landed in front of a feeder, to feast. I heard the songs in my heart, and I rejoiced. A small, simple event, insignificant to some, but one must look deeper.
It was, and is Sacred, a moment of monumental importance when I needed a sign to cut through the darkness. May we all stand in those Sacred moments, remembering who we are, and why we are here. I stand outside in the mornings, speaking to the winged ones, and the trees. I step into the peace of the Sacred, several feet away from the pecan tree. It is hot, devoid of any breeze, but I wait and I trust. In the silence I greet the morning, as one branch of the pecan tree slowly moves across my shoulder, her leaves gently touching my cheek, before moving across the top of my head. There is no wind, no breeze. It is
simply the Sacred connection.