The Land Continued
The stories handed down generation to generation have influenced the imagination of the young, sometimes for better, from the perspective of youth, it’s often for worse; it seemed as though the oppressive drudgery of the old and the light, hopeful freedom of youth and the wide open plains of the future were always in conflict. Age and youth became a contradiction; they were irrelevant to each other. Maturity has taught otherwise; we want and need each other so to remind us of our stories and so that they’ll endure. We rekindle the imagination of youth by digging through memories. It’s necessary to dig to find who you are; we discovered this at a young age, when we could still be inspired by old stories; this became part of our play, but somehow we forgot. Our strengths and also our weaknesses that are embedded in our youth, are then, in turn, entrenched in our children securing that they hear and follow the same lessons; we are a continuum, as is the land; we hold onto thoughts and deeds; things inherited from those long buried and we pass them on; The land rejects nothing, it holds on to everything to be discovered by those that are willing to simply come and dig.
Such memories leave me with an ache, feeling saddened, but still deeply satisfied, as I imagine the land spread before me with the wind in my face and share some of my buried secrets.
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