Drops of Blood

We are many drops of blood; an amalgamation of our ancestors.
More than just our parents or our grandparents.
We are a wonderful structure bound together with every gasp of air ever taken, every drop of water sipped, every bite taken of flesh and plant.
(1/4)

We were supposed to be her greatest act of love; the ones created to be the caretakers for all of her creations. Yet what have we evolved to become are just parasites, destined to consume until there is nothing left but each other. The sad reality is, she has eradicated children less deserving.(1/3)

Last night, the coyotes howled on the outskirts of the apartment complex. Hearing the family of coyotes rising their throats to the sky and singing despite their world shrinking under pavement, concrete and steel, I wondered what was in their song?
Perhaps they are singing out of spite. (1/2)

The Seasons of My Life

My life has revolved with the seasons. In my Youth, I was Spring. Emerging, blossoming, becoming vibrant and full of ideas, energy surging into my being like the sap rising during the warming of the weather. I was new, finding myself and my place in this world. (1/4)

This morning was a bit of art therapy. All things found nearby at the apartment complex I live at. Needed to feel my hands on earth. The cool air. A canvas and palette that nature provided for free.

In my life not quite five decades old, I have seen the world through the first three seasons of my life. My mind, after seeing the chaos the last few days, wandered to The Pale Blue Dot, by Carl Sagan. I ask myself, what legacy are we making as a species?
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Yesterday's adventure was helping our kiddo find some altar items. They have been exploring animism in their own way and have taken a fondness to deer. So, we went out and grabbed a few things like old, dried mushrooms, certain leaves, acorns, and willow bark fallen on the ground.

How is violence seen through my eyes?
I used to believe I hated violence, but then I realized how violent of a person I am. I live in a home built with products from the earth. Wood, steel, and concrete. In the process of gathering these resources, animals suffered violence. Loss of habitat. (1/9)

The full moon will be here in a few days, and in my path to animism, one of the things I've decided to embrace is to burn away the past. Not just any past, but the old, toxic vestiges that choke me like a forest full of dead leaves and needles. (1/4)

Sometimes, we need to acknowledge the little things that are often overlooked. A small bee I saw on some goldenrod along a park trail. A tiny lambs quarter I rescued before the mowers could cut it again.

A snowflake is unique. One of an unmeasurable amount of snowflakes that fall in winter. And when the snow melts, its form is melted away, sent into the rivers and lakes and oceans. Eventually parts of it will be drawn to into the sky and settle again someday as another unique snowflake. (1/9)

What is Animism? For me, it is a connection to the Earth; an acknowledgment that I am intertwined with everything in Nature. I am no more or less special than the blade of grass nor the elephant. Life is in much of everything, even in death, for the dead feed the living. We are just recycled energy.

This account is dedicated to my exploration of Animism, as I seek to reconnect to what I have been apart from for over two decades. Not to say I haven't always been a part of Nature, but I followed life in such a way that I found myself lost in society.