Wind Walking

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I sat with Issy on the creek bank. A slow lazy brackish run of water making its way to the sea, not quite tidal ,still with some ebb and flow. But that was how the days passed, ebbing and flowing with the tides, man made, and natural. It was simple , breathable, back in those thick southern woods. Just the sounds of the woodland spirits going about their daily regimens. The gentle flights of the brilliantly colored dragon flies & that occasional plop of a fat frog breaking the waters gloss with a dive from the creek bank. We could both lay back and peruse the elements on days like this, a soft solitude allowing each moment to be a heady buffet of life. Issy ran her fingers through the dark satiny mud that made up the creek bank , albeit all the land this close to the ocean. She observed the trails her fingers made in the rich substance and remarked that it was like the bacon drippings she saved from breakfast in the mornings. Rich and full of sustenance. She was more right than wrong is this observation as she usually was with most of her remarks upon the simpler world of her existence. I had to smile to myself because I was a mere traveler in her world. Oh I don’t know, I have always called it “wind walker” my strange predilection for transcending time and space. But she was right, that rich black riverbank mud was the fat of the earth, added through eons of foliage and the like digested and layered upon the earth as our world continued the cycle of birth, death, and rebirth. Issy met my gaze with luminous dark eyes, those knowing eyes, that said we were both strangers to each others time as our abilities were alien to most who inhabited each of our own realities. But here on the creek bank we were friends. Issy wiped a rivulet of sweat from her cheek, an ebony skinned girl with high cheekbones more predominate now as she was enduring the turbulent period of reconstruction in the deep south which made food scarce and life tough. Her cotton frock was the lightest of pinks ,many times mended and a salvage from the big house when the northerners came through. But today was today, and the breeze gentle, so in this NOW we went deeper in our conversation than the topicalities of clothing and food. She dug her toes deeply into the rich cooling riverbank mud. “Is it this way for you?” she asked “in your NOW?” I pondered, and replied “Sadly our earth is not as rich nor as fat”, the thought of mud like bacon renderings still hanging between us both. “We seem to be starving her and she is growing thin. Oh we think we are rich and free ,but I’m afraid that is all an illusion.” Issy pursed her lips and gave me a long knowing gaze. “ The mud, it is the fat of this world, the water it’s blood, the roots of the many plants and trees it’s sinew and the rocks it’s muscle. Are we the heart or the head I wonder?” She asked. I thought of my NOW, my world in which machines and time ruled with a sovereign fist. “ Oh Issy, I think we were created to be the heart, but somewhere things went terribly wrong, we became analytical and detached. We wanted predictability,and although there is great joy in the ride of the unpredictable, too many became less spiritual and less trusting of the simple notion of being. Nature, the wild things that do not question but accept, exist, and enjoy. They are the heart. Maybe those few of us that embrace simplicity, that exist with nature and dance among the spheres are still pulsing within the heart. But too many have tried to become the head. In my estimation the head is very ill, lost from what the Creator intended long ago, there is no unison or joy in the dance that is life anymore, in my Now.” Issy leaned back against the cypress knees that made a gentle perch in the thick forest. “You will get back you know, just like we did here in my Now.We drifted away, it was cruel and hard, yet many of us found joy in simplicity, whether it was sweet butter coming in the churn or the sight of a newborn calf frisking across a springtime field, we embraced each second, I believe the Creator decided to give us another chance, so to speak.” She was braver, stronger and more intuitive than I knew I would ever be no matter how many winds I walked. I inhaled the rich pungent forest air made intoxicating and more vibrant by the interaction with the creek as it transcended landscapes on its journey to the sea. “ Thats why I come here Issy, to feel, to touch, to be. My NOW is devoid of spirits and seemingly lost to the Creator, I am here, I believe to learn, to take things back from one time to the next, things lost in our hurry to get home, but racing to a home where one does not know the family. In my time even those with magnificent houses are in fact, homeless, they just don’t know it. Yet it nags at them deep, deep in their souls , I think, I hope, so they keep looking for the path. ” Issy nodded her head ,eyes focused off into a distance I was not privy to comprehend. “I wonder, truly,  how much has been lost in all the chances the Creator has given us?”  she asked. This resonated with me, so here lies the answer to all my disconnects through the years,  found here in the ether on a creek bank beneath coordinates of my birth.  “Thanks Issy , you just answered the question of  my now, you, I, and the others, we are going to find it, all of it we can, bring it to my now and hope the souls of my time can find the path home , before the Creator decides to send them back once again.”  I answered. Issy clenched her jaws, “Being sent back is tough, are you going to use the machine ? What if you loose it with the machine?” I looked upwards at the view of storm clouds building through the forests cover  ” Then we will have been sent back and we will already know, the object will be not to loose it this time”  Issy rose to her feet “Well I’m here and I’m using Wally” I could not help but smile as the world started to spin as it always did when I detached, Wally was a big Red rawboned mule I had known forever ,we met when he used to pull quarry stones for the Roman aqueducts, now he was carrying a freedwoman home in the southern reconstruction. “Some day you’re going to tell me where all you’ve been Issy, but in this time I need to pull from your Now” She laughed spun on her heel and sauntered off down the path. I looked back at the creek, dark and swirling with the genetics of eternity as it rolled to the sea and I rolled to my now, a little stronger than before.