The bowl
2025-04-30 permalink
This is the bowl carved out of redwood that my uncle gifted me when we visited the mighty redwood forest of Muir Woods.
It whispers all the secrets of my heart. What does it want me to remember? To touch the bark of the redwoods. To rub my cheek against all that is soft and smooth and lovely. The sound of my nails tapping against the wood. The feeling of the touch of the soil that loves me.
What was the bowl before it was carved? A redwood tree: the most sacred of beings, the kings and queens of this realm. Who touched it then? Who sat beneath it? Did I in a past life touch the bark of the tree that spread and later created this tree?
What does the bowl say your hands were made for? Touching, feeling the roughness of the earth and all of its creations.
Maybe in a previous life I grew up beneath the redwoods, but forgot their sacredness. So in this life I had to grow up yearning, in order to learn to appreciate their gifts. In this life, I touch the bark with reverence and listen to a bowl that whispers.