We once were Libraries

 

Once there were grandmothers some of them were elephants. Some were trees. Some of them looked like what we call people. And they were all divine. Not special. DIVINE. 

They grew up listening to the hills and valleys. They spoke wind and bird and water. Learning from their own mothers, and grandmothers. They could communicate with the plants, summon the skies and feel the heart beat of every creature . As if it was their own heartbeat. They sang and danced. They remembered and they taught. 

The grandmothers held all the stories of how to be. How to connect with this planet and how to treat one another. How to give and receive with gratitude. How to eat, cook, grow, heal, birth, create, rejoice and mourn. 

And they were brutally killed. Murdered by men who did not grow up in their fold. 

And with their death a millions libraries burnt to the ground. All of their knowledge spilled in their blood. And it is happening again. And again. It has never not happened. Those who grew up without reverence for the tiniest earthly creature, can only worship the destruction of it.

Power and Money are not replacements for the missing grandmother libraries. Power and Money are the abusive foster parents of greed. And they have raised men without wisdom. Without connection to the earth . Men who will drill baby drill, and lock humans in cages, and draw big lines on what is theirs. Property lines and bottom lines. And they are so lost. 

And they are starving for the nourishment they never got. Because all the grandmothers who would teach and feed and mold their fragile minds are gone. 

I think about these libraries often… About their violent deaths before recorded time then ghengis khan and burning stakes and the trail of tears and slave ships and cotton fields and concentration camps and detention centers and the idea that some people don’t matter. 

Oh if they had not been killed , would these women,have whispered all the secrets of the universe into each new baby's ears. Would they have taught men how to deescalate, how to calm their heated tantrums  and turn ownership into a festival of giving . Would they have taught us to work towards the good of all, not just some.  Would they have shown us how to find a measure of fairness, how to get along, how to disagree in measured meaningful conversation. Would they teach us how to know each other. How to meet each and every need.  

We can never know what was written in the books of early womankind. That knowledge was obliterated. 

We no longer speak bird we speak money. There is no reciprocity between us and the earth, there is only the poor substitute of transaction. We have confused every strength as weakness and every weakness as strength. 

I have drawn the conclusion: We will never have the wisdom that once walked among us. But we must real quick build up our own new libraries of knowing and write the words on every book. “My loves if someone is crying, screaming, dying, we are doing everything there is to do, wrong wrong wrong. “