Rooted in earth

I do not think it is possible to work with the stories, currents and history of the land and remain oblivious to the rich tapestry of life.”

So writes Sue Vincent, beloved blogger at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo. There, in addition to sharing her remarkable paintings, poetry, flash fiction, short stories and more, she has also grown a community of writers who respond to her beautiful photographs for the popular #writephoto prompt. These photos are mostly of landscapes, land that Sue knows well on many levels.
By now you have seen on different blogs that we are rallying around our friend Sue who has given so much to so many. The Sue Vincent Rodeo Classic is a contest that will honor Sue. The details of that are best heard from the horse’s mouth when the event is posted at Carrot Ranch tomorrow, February 1. There you will also learn of additional ways to take part; one is to join the “Parade” in which you can reblog one of Sue’s posts from any of her sites— Daily Echo or France and Vincent— with a comment about why you found it special. I am reblogging Sue’s piece Rooted In Earth that she published on a third site, The Silent Eye.
She had me at the title, and this truly resonates with me: “There is a reverence that comes when we are rooted in the earth of our landscape, when we listen for its heartbeat in the changing seasons and feel our place within it.” But Sue tricked me Good, for this piece is also a reverence for being human on the Earth.
Yet it is beautiful, and within this earth our own roots are planted deeply, and our life is drawn from the same source.”

 

The Silent Eye

revelation3 071

For the past few years, I have been immersed in the folklore and history, traditions and myths of my land in a way I had never expected. This is not the country of governments and politics, nor the land of business and traffic jams or socio-economic divides. This is the deep well of life accessible to all.

I have seen and shared the growth of bluebells under the trees, the chalk cut figures spanning millennia, the hillsides and skies, the wildflowers, valleys and groves. I have danced the serpentine dance and walked barefoot where legends tell a dragon was slain. I have gazed upon living history in brick and stone, traced the human story in the earth and told tales of long ago.

The land itself has changed me, I think, or else awoken me to a deeper vision of the world that has, like the buried treasure of some…

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