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Earth Pages

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Article Specs

Article ID: 9198

VoxAcct: 202887

Section: earth

Age Group: Adult

Days Up: 3,265

Times Read: 5,586

RSS Views: 19,478
On Seeds and Connection

Author: Tree Higgins
Posted: May 8th. 2005
Times Viewed: 5,586


I was six years old and standing at the edge of the cherry orchard where it met the forest. I wanted to follow my Papa as he made his way down the sap line where he collected the sticky juices of the Maple tree for making maple syrup. I was staring at the road he had taken and it seemed darker and more threatening than it had when I rode on it with him. The grassy road wound away from the open field and sunlight. I stood there still as a fawn looking into the darkness until a longing washed over me; then I walked into that forest and forgot about the darkness, forgot about the sap line, my grandfather and everything else. I forgot because for the first time in my life I heard the voices of the forest and felt the Breath of an ancient Goddess upon me. I talked to trees as I wandered, knelt in rotting leaves and inhaled brown, earthy scents. I had found a connection that, until decades later, I had no name for. It was a connection that has held my heart ever since.

Over forty years ago, I fell in love with Gaia and I have never fallen out of love with Her. (I use Gaia as Earth’s name here simply because the name seems the dearest for Her, although my people call Her Midgardhr.) I have loved Her from the Brazos cliffs where clouds and sun play, making the cliffs change from blue-grays to purples, to the deep Northeastern forest where twin fawns stared back at me as they huddled next to their mother. I have loved Her when the first seeds broke through Her Gardened Body in the spring to the last bitter snows of winter. I have loved her when hurricane winds screamed about me. I have loved Her when the last leaf of autumn fell upon my yard to announce the end of my favorite season. I have loved Her for the violent, quick-moving storms flying off Lake Erie and for the single Dandelion blooming along the sidewalk in a gray industrial city.

While I have loved Her long and well, I have also mourned Her. Mourned the years Pittsburgh’s river burned from its pollution, mourned the fish-kills caused by chicken farms hundreds of miles away. Mourned the fall of wondrous species to human over-predation and loss of habitat. Mourned Her strip-mined mountains and oil-well-pierced Body in the national forests. I have mourned Her wounds and scars that keep spreading and getting deeper but it is too easy to write a dirge for Her these days. It is too easy to fill it with the Styrofoam-cup-laced Florida waterways and cell phone tower clogging of once pristine mountaintops. It is too easy to write an obituary about mangrove-eating shoreline developments and Everglades-killing sugar companies. It is far too easy to give up to the pimps of Alaska’s last frontier and the mad chase of modern life. There are many in this world who would have us take that easy path and give up.

Wherever I travel these days, I hear Pagans who want to write dirges for Gaia. Some Pagans are simply angry, some despairing but, mostly, just resigned to the declining health of Gaia. The Earth is sick but not terminal. When I am deep in ritual, I feel Her Power. I see Her Hope in every birth of every wild creature and each birth is an awesome act of magnificent defiance on Her part against this awful assault upon Her. I learn from Her daily still. I find lessons in the simplest insect’s travel across my picnic table to the dance of the eagle across the morning skies. More than once I have been reminded by something as innocent as a squirrel that my human being status has yet to make me superior.

It is by no coincidence that the many faces of Paganism once again have lifted up to look at the sun and this new world mankind has created. We have been drawn from many ages, many realms and with diverse talents and sights. Many of us are born old, with unprecedented memories of other lives and places. Some of us are new-souled, untainted by previously held views and inhibitions. We are Gaia’s seeds of change, but, like all seeds, we must first struggle to sink deep our roots into the Earth, then stretch ourselves farther than we ever thought possible, ever upward and stronger. We come to this point in history to make changes for the survival of all. We will make changes in many ways from the seats of governments to the simple task of picking up litter on the sidewalk. We will make magical changes as well as practical changes. As we learn to pool our resources and refine our Craft, our common goals become achievable. This generation of Pagans will also make more seeds and teach them to love and respect Gaia. Those seeds will spread as well. We are on the threshold of doing great things but we must pull it together to make it happen. Our Goddesses and Gods stand behind us, guiding us as never before.

Deep in the forest or by the ocean or under the full moon on your porch or in your backyard, look up. Listen. Wait. She is talking to us. Spell for Healing. Write those letters to Congress and the newspapers. Vote. Drop some money you can’t afford to organizations that are effective in getting things done. Clean up a waterway. Don’t be afraid to get in someone’s face when the topics about Her health come up. Fight for Her. Use any and all means because times are dire. She isn’t getting any better.

Make the connection to Her if you haven’t already. Hold it fast to your heart so when adversity strikes, it will hold you true and you can be the seed you were meant to be.


Tree Higgins

Location: Greenbrier Valley, West Virginia

Author's Profile: To learn more about Tree Higgins - Click HERE

Bio: Tree Higgins is a performance poet and a contributing essayist to the new book Celebrating the Pagan Soul by Laura Wildman.

Other Articles: Tree Higgins has posted 4 additional articles- View them?

Other Listings: To view ALL of my listings: Click HERE

Email Tree Higgins... (Yes! I have opted to receive invites to Pagan events, groups, and commercial sales)

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