Shady hillside Bosnian hillside provides peaceful moments of shade and grazing, but this same region during the war proved to be dangerous territory, as snipers took up positions in the surrounding mountainside in search of civilian targets in the farming communities.
Translation of this article by Tajana Mesic appears as Drvece place.
Categorized in these topics: Baba Yaga Bioculinary Weather
Posted Tuesday, May 20, 2008, 12:18 AM
I walk the rainforest behind my home every day with my dogs. It was autumn, when a fluttering carpet of fallen gold and red leaves paved the dirt trail we tread.
What was so glorious is that I witnessed the leaves fell all at once as it were a gentle snow fall.
No weather report exclaims that a certain autumn day would be timely for witnessing a collectively leave dropping forecast.
Constantly changing, the forest, my sister trees speak in a 'Mother Tongue.' Sun draped the sky while a light fog wrapped the treetops. No rain in the sky but as I passed by certain knolls, the leaves moved without wind and started to weep and dropping baskets full of leaves upon me and my dogs.
I feel this sister kinship with the trees since my knowing is that the trees are every woman witnessing life on Mother Earth. Slavic peoples are known to have this incredible bond with the trees evidenced by the South Slavic Balkan Bird Goddesses littering their rivers and forests some 3,000 years ago.
The Slavic alphabet still has letters referring to trees. Classically trained archeologists Marija Gimbutas traced the cradle of spiral art of the Proto-Slavs and determined that deciduous trees located in the forest steppe and steppe belts along with Slavic plant terminology "is in agreement with archeological reconstructions of the environment of prehistoric Slavic culture." [i]
It is no coincidence that the Slavic language has Mother Tongue woven into the words with geographical references to trees. I have been able to translate Mother Tongue at times and know many of us can translate her messages into our lives and actions.
The slaughter of trees earthwide has our Mother Tongue screaming but many of us have forgotten to feel such sacred words. I felt the sacred words of the Mother Tongue in my walk in the forest when the trees wept without rain in the sky.
It is totally different then hearing the sacred words. I have heard trees fall in the forest and I have heard the trees scream as the sharp saw bites into their thick bark. But it was just my intellect acknowledging the horror, for when I would survey a clear-cut landscape my body feel the saws biting and tearing at the flesh of our existence.
I know that in Oslo Norway, the Peace Prize committee, a dominating patriarchal entity, finally acknowledged the mother tongue with the awarding of the Peace Prize to Kenyan environmental activist Wangari Maathai.
This wise African mother knows Mother Tongue well enough to have 30 million trees planted. That's when I knew the weeping rainforest trees were crying with joy and not for the premature deaths of all things feminine.
[i] Marija Gimbutas, Civilization of the Goddess p.22