I feel a strong urge today to go back. Back to the teachings of my grandparents. A conversation this morning planted a seed that is urging to sprout and be shared.
And so instead of a regular poem, Ill dive into a more personal prompt. To offer a glimpse that might spark these very same feelings in you. Because having a sense of interbeing is, I feel, part of the sacred space were currently so starving for.
A sense of meaning, a sense of deeper connection to each other. Thank you for reading.
Rites.
I think of the constellations,
And how my grandfather woke me at night.
To point to the stars and speak of causations
In the very fabric of life.
He shared a plethora of stories
On jungle cats and snakes
And spoke of all lifes possible glories
To never be afraid of mistakes.
His attic of wonders
Of minerals and precious stones
He told could never compete
To the light in our hearts
And the strength in our bones.
My mind also drifts to Indonesia
And of my grandmother’s heritage here.
Though all my family is elsewhere
Every day I carry them near.
The perfume of spices
That filled the dapur when I was young
Is now part of me daily
In my palette and in my lungs.
In a much deeper sense
This land is my home,
That can’t fully be captured
In this little poem.
But wherever I may roam
The lessons of ancestors I carry
They are the replenishing source
When my being is tired and weary.
And so I turn to you,
My dearest reader
And ask what message.
What rites of passage?
What ways and tales of old?
Have become a part of you
And the path you hold?
Gifted photographer @dimitibe
