Firstwarmth

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Annah says:

“It is rarely cold here on Evohe–a fact for which Holder and I are both very glad, though him more than me at times, I think, since Earth has more variance in temperatures than this world does.  Still, there are changes in seasons here–the fireblossoms lose their color and wither for a time, and the spicegrasses in the fields seem to taste more bland than they do in the early part of a Cycle.

But the Cycle is new again–it is the early part of Firstwarmth, our season similar to what the humans call Spring–and it feels to me as though there is much to be done, and much that can be done.

That is the nature of time, and of life’s tides, I think–there are times when we feel that everything is new, and the course of our action seems clear, because there are so very many things we have never done.

There was a time when I had never seen or spoken to anyone outside my world, and when I had little to do with even those of my own kind.  All of that has changed. I am working on setting down the second book of my life’s story.  I never thought I would compose–or help to compose–anything beyond music.  And this second telling seems to be taking longer than the first.  Part of that, I cannot change. I am working with a translator–we of Evohe would say can-kiri, which literally means ‘song-partner’–and he has his own life, as I have mine.  The second story is moving along; perhaps like a slow stream, but its current is alive, and it will find its way–in time.

Patience, and waiting for life to move in its own time, and to feel the tides of that time, are skills of Knowing, which is a part of the Craft of Shaping.  And I try to teach it to those of my Circle.  But I am still learning it, myself.  There is a rhythm and a melody in all things: in breathing, in walking,  in storytelling, in learning, in teaching, and in singing.

Sometimes, the pulse of the rhythm, and the melody that moves with it, are easy to find.  In a season of renewal, like Firstwarmth, this is very true.  At such a time, it is as if all the world is one song, a tapestry of harmony woven from many voices lifted all at once.  Not all perfect, but perfect in the parts they play.

At other times, the song is faint, and the rhythm like that of a fading heartbeat.  In those times, we must have faith that the melody will return, and the pulse of life will grow strong again.

Those of my Circle call me “Elder” and “Teacher”, and look to me for answers I do not always feel I have.  Sometimes, I too feel like a song that has lost its melody; as if my own heart were sleeping soil with only the promise of new colors beneath its surface, and none yet to be seen.

In those times, I think of the First Ones–for even the Sea of Stars was once a broad field of black, its stars unlit; the seeds of its songs only thoughts in the minds of that great Power that would someday sing all things into being.

And then, I do not feel so lost anymore–for Life itself is an endless song, that waits when we ourselves fall out of step or feel out of breath, until we again raise our voices.  There is a rest in every rhythm, and yet the song goes on.  I am still here–and I wish those who read this a happy renewal of warmth and song–and the new life they bring–in the fertile fields of your own lives.”

 

 

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