Wow, Kirstie, so much here. I love the poem and the shark's question and most of all, the answer. Love the glorious golden messenger.
And I really love the phrase: the kindness of protest. It extends the usual meaning of 'kindness' to underline how, at its heart, it's about stepping outside of ourselves. Not letting the wrong thing pass, for the sake of many others, often unknown others, who will suffer for that wrong. I too am comforted to know that John Mitchell was there, and spoke against the blindness, the arrogant heedlessness that thought releasing rabbits was a good idea. And that his protest was recorded. His two languages. Yes. All of his ancestors gathered to speak with him on behalf of people who come after who have to deal with the catastrophe of that release. And on behalf of the land.
I've been thinking a lot lately about how we are and are not our ancestors. Even our mother tongue that we inherit from them is and is not the same language. Languages lost, and old forms of the surviving language lost. As we evolve. Become new, while remaining old. Discarding is part of that. (An autumn leaf sort of thought.)
Thank you for this emphasis on the kindness aspect of protest. So much that requires protest. Overwhelming. Easy to be caught up in rage, fear, bewilderment. But without kindness, there's no insight, and no way forward. No evolving, I suppose.
And without the restraint that allows kindness to flourish, no listening, watching space where the messengers speak: birds, butterflies, sharks.
Dear Carolyn, can I wow back. Sometimes a comment just pumps up the volume to a piece of writing - and this is what you’ve done here with this incredible response. Thank you so much.
thank you Kirstie, reading this as if drinking in water while staring out at the sea and sky... quiet, reflecting. thank you for bringing me into a space of contemplation
the passage below made me smile, I think the smile was some kind of recognition..
“I could see the little stream in the poem butting its way through the landscape. There was a kind of relief in this hearing, this recognition, in the persistence of the stream.”
Thank you so much Toni. There is much to contemplate. And for all that I mostly turn to: just go outside. Thank you for your restack and creative encouragement.
Wow, Kirstie, so much here. I love the poem and the shark's question and most of all, the answer. Love the glorious golden messenger.
And I really love the phrase: the kindness of protest. It extends the usual meaning of 'kindness' to underline how, at its heart, it's about stepping outside of ourselves. Not letting the wrong thing pass, for the sake of many others, often unknown others, who will suffer for that wrong. I too am comforted to know that John Mitchell was there, and spoke against the blindness, the arrogant heedlessness that thought releasing rabbits was a good idea. And that his protest was recorded. His two languages. Yes. All of his ancestors gathered to speak with him on behalf of people who come after who have to deal with the catastrophe of that release. And on behalf of the land.
I've been thinking a lot lately about how we are and are not our ancestors. Even our mother tongue that we inherit from them is and is not the same language. Languages lost, and old forms of the surviving language lost. As we evolve. Become new, while remaining old. Discarding is part of that. (An autumn leaf sort of thought.)
Thank you for this emphasis on the kindness aspect of protest. So much that requires protest. Overwhelming. Easy to be caught up in rage, fear, bewilderment. But without kindness, there's no insight, and no way forward. No evolving, I suppose.
And without the restraint that allows kindness to flourish, no listening, watching space where the messengers speak: birds, butterflies, sharks.
Dear Carolyn, can I wow back. Sometimes a comment just pumps up the volume to a piece of writing - and this is what you’ve done here with this incredible response. Thank you so much.
thank you Kirstie, reading this as if drinking in water while staring out at the sea and sky... quiet, reflecting. thank you for bringing me into a space of contemplation
Love this piece!
the passage below made me smile, I think the smile was some kind of recognition..
“I could see the little stream in the poem butting its way through the landscape. There was a kind of relief in this hearing, this recognition, in the persistence of the stream.”
Thank you so much Toni. There is much to contemplate. And for all that I mostly turn to: just go outside. Thank you for your restack and creative encouragement.
Thank you Steve! Yes, you probably do know that stream, and walked beside it.