It’s the season of the ancestors where I live and, with so much blooming going on in the garden, the pollinators could afford to spare me a bunch of bright flowers for the household altars.
Marigold garlands sold out at my small table of offerings at Farmers Market this morning too, but not before my patience had been sorely tested by every person in the town, and their visiting friends and relatives, picking up and messing with the fragile, sacred garlands.
One would think that people cruising the stalls at the market today 1) had never seen a flower garland 2) had not been brought up to recognize and respect sacred offerings and 3) had no comprehension of the fragility of something made entirely of flowers (and some few chiles).
Sometimes I really feel the being caught in the devils bargain thing. I ache for India, Hawaii, living on a rez, oh! any place that is not this coarse, gross, ill-educated community, where superficiality reigns supreme, and strangers think it is quite okay to pry into my national origins, as reflected in my accent and vocabulary.
I’m from stardust, if you really want to know. You know: originally.
And I gotta get me back to the garden.
…We are stardust
Billion year old carbon
We are golden
Caught in the devil's bargain
And we've got to get ourselves
back to the garden…
Joni Mitchell: Woodstock
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