The old pickup and I rattle and wind over the back way into my heart space in the Coast Range. Several weeks ago, an October summer as smoky and dry as an open-eyed skull finally flinched and lurched into a rainy Willamette Valley winter. Everyone was exuberant in rain-washed air mercifully cleansed of wildfire smoke. Now, an early cold snap with an inversion traps the valley beneath a fog that seems one part water, one part car exhaust, and one part wood smoke. This morning we hope these conifered mountains will rescue us from the inundation of toxic vapor on the valley side. But even here a wraithlike overcast is slinking across the ridges like a beat dog, damping down the late blaze of vine maple. I can’t decide whether to embrace the cowering haze or look away.
It's hard to write anything after reading that, Tom. There's a lot to digest. I think of garlic as a source of healing. I picture your parents holding you and watching you grow into the man you are, the joy they felt, the joy you gave them. That's what I take from this. Hold onto that.
Thank you Tom for a piece that is beautifully written and poignant-with the planting of the garlic and the growing of garlic interwoven with transgenerational trauma in your family. How better to process than with soil sifting between fingers and acts of faith--planting for the garlic plants to come....And I appreciate the link to my website and relaying the humor of our co-reading at Oakshire Brewing --ingenious solution, wasn't it? Thanks to Kim for that one!
The heart of the work you are doing through this writing, so powerful: "What I am doing is digging a bed for the garlic and searching the friable soil for awareness, which is necessary for illumination, which is required for healing. Our brains are big and malleable and capable of molding themselves into new understandings." Gratitude for this meditation. Thank you!
It's hard to write anything after reading that, Tom. There's a lot to digest. I think of garlic as a source of healing. I picture your parents holding you and watching you grow into the man you are, the joy they felt, the joy you gave them. That's what I take from this. Hold onto that.
Thank you Tom for a piece that is beautifully written and poignant-with the planting of the garlic and the growing of garlic interwoven with transgenerational trauma in your family. How better to process than with soil sifting between fingers and acts of faith--planting for the garlic plants to come....And I appreciate the link to my website and relaying the humor of our co-reading at Oakshire Brewing --ingenious solution, wasn't it? Thanks to Kim for that one!
The heart of the work you are doing through this writing, so powerful: "What I am doing is digging a bed for the garlic and searching the friable soil for awareness, which is necessary for illumination, which is required for healing. Our brains are big and malleable and capable of molding themselves into new understandings." Gratitude for this meditation. Thank you!
I enjoyed reading it! Could almost feel the soil under my fingernails and smell the garlic. Makes me wish I was a better gardiner sensu lato!