Sometimes I wake up in the early morning, and I sit out on the front porch, looking down on the fog that slowly ascends up the canyons. I am still far-away in my dream world, trying to make sense of the world I have just awaken to, the "real world." So often this world of ours seems to lack meaning, and I struggle with what to do each day that has meaning.
The quest to "Find Home" seems so universal that my mind dwells on that. "Home" is not a house, but it is the place where your heart resides, where your dreams can be fulfilled, where you can do that which you were destined to do. As I think of these things, I recall a poem I wrote last year. I share it with you now…
TATAVIAM SUMMER
Christopher Nyerges
In flat grassy lands hot and dry
Where mountains rose steeply to the sky
We walked narrow canyon and watched ravens fly
Along fire-burned willows that would not die.
Past acorn pancakes could smell if you try
And buckwheat mush that mama would fry.
A hot summer day, a distant hawk cries
I’m trying to see what the present denies.
Vibrant little village hundreds years ago
Down by river where the waters did flow
Sheltered by rock from the winter winds blow
Open fields where wild crops did grow
Good clay abounds, lots of ochre yellow
And asphaltum seeps back in the canyon low
Back in the willows could see hidden doe
And grew here all the reeds for crafts and show.
It’s Tataviam summer in this wild grass plain
Where men fasted in the cave out of the rain
And social structure kept you from going insane
While families collected the wild grain
It’s Tataviam summer and I’m looking for home
I’m getting tired of my civilization roam
It’s been a hard millennium away from our loam
It’s time to get back to our Tataviam home.
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4 comments:
I searched for meaning within, but never found it until I let Him, (Jesus the Christ) in my heart and in my life. Now I have meaning within me, and inner Peace. It's sometimes difficult to describe what is in my heart, and at times it gets hidden with all the layers of the years that have thickened my sensitivity of self to Him. These are deep things you speak of Christopher, thank you for your honesty and openness. I enjoy discussing these topics, they are some of the more important things in life.
I can feel the longing in the words of your poem.
I don't know the answer to the search for meaning and home, but here's one way to look at it...
Keeping in mind that our time on earth is limited sometimes makes it easier to strip away the mundane distractions of this world. If we change our attitude from seeking things for our own happiness to living to help all living beings, then cherishing others becomes the key that unlocks us from our personal prisons of self-centeredness.
So perhaps the search for meaning can be measured by asking oneself, "Have I used my time, life,
and experience to help others for the highest good?" We don't always get to see the effects of our actions... but for example something as simple as opening others minds to different points of view or teaching others skills they'll have for the rest of their lives. One never knows what kind of meaningful catalyst they are in anothers life.
These days many seem disconnected from Home...
If the universe sends a ray of light to break through the clouds in ones life, I think few notice, nor do they usually see the rainbow - people are soo busy "doing" things that they fill up every last minute of the day leaving no room for just "being". The universe doesn't work according to any particular schedule, it only requires us to "be" alert and pay attention. For being in the moment grows into living a rhythm that is the natural ebb and flow of life. The path "home" reveals itself when one lives life in harmony and true to their heart... but at times its a journey thats easier said than done.
Beautiful poem. Left me aching. Aching, for what I don't even know how to feed. I got off the train the other day, and stopped short, when I saw two great birds, maybe hawks? They were flying huge, beautiful circles, perhaps in a sort of ritual, in an almost 8 ball formation. All I could do was watch, and wonder. That moment of release is what this poem gave me. Nature always speaks to us, but she whispers, so we have to listen closely. Wonderful poem indeed.
Fragile, glad you liked the poem. I wrote it to speak to a universal desire to "find Real Home," and to go there...
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