grandmother sky

The evening sky was an exhalation that seemed to be coloured with old emotion - red, grey - and I couldn't decide if it looked like sorrow, or weary contentment, or something more brazen. Small, loose clouds were scudding past, dark smoke-puffs from a sacred pipe. I envisioned a grandmother sitting comfortably at the heart of the universe, breathing sunset, blowing smoke, watching over me with a crow-black, root-rich, unblinking eye as I walked along the edge of night.




I wished she would come out of her cosy spot and walk along with me. I wished she would hold me up, guide my path, murmur wisdom into my heart. But she doesn't work that way. She just watches. Or I should say, she watches. She sees me, and so I am giving meaning.

When I think of her regard, I stand a little taller and try a little harder, and remind myself that I am a heroine in a story which the eye at the heart of the universe is watching, caring about, holding. I may not always believe in her, but she believes in me.


And I remember that I myself shouldn't always try to fix other people. Nor smile at them incase they're having a bad day. Nor tell them a better way. Just being myself with my own space alongside them, holding them in my eye and hearing them in my heart, is more than enough. I am not the heroine of their story, rushing in to save them. More often than not what we really is just to be believed in.



5 comments:

  1. Being at peace with oneself is enough to go by. Great thoughts, and one to ponder deeply on. Greetings.

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  2. And what perfect thoughts, to share with any Grandmother types. ,-) Who always want to rush in and fix. Who feel that their long years, enable them to pass on wisdom. Who thus, make many silly and rash declarations.

    Age and experience do not automatically equip one, to solve the problems of another. Nor is there a need, to do so.

    Sit and listen. Sit and listen, and give gentle hugs.

    Just a little thought, brought about by your views....

    'Nana' Tessa

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  3. Your words (and that wonder-ful photograph) are so nourishing, Sarah. I've just come in from a walk in the woods, where the sky's presence was only vaguely felt. I know that, after reading this, the next time I take a walk (especially the part in the fields, coming and going) I will be remembering this and grandmothers, heroines and being. thank you.

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