returning to Eden
"Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning, born of the one light, Eden saw play..."--Cat Stevens
By the time the sun has risen a quarter’s way in the eastern sky, she’s back, ready to warm herself at the foot of the mountain ash between the blue Mexican pot and the hens-and-chicks. She–or, more likely, her grandsnakes–has lived here as long as I have.
I counted it good fortune when the telephone technician asked me, on moving day, if I knew the house came with its own snake. For being more Jungian than Freudian [don’t go there, I’m beggin’ ya 😉 ] in my symbolism, I love the idea that this is a house of living transformation. My job, while living here, is to keep growing and changing. Anthropologists tell us that the snake was the symbol of that kind of energy long before the serpent chatted up Eve in the Garden of Eden.
So I claim both legacies…that of the Creation story and the ancient story-tellers. Which sets me pondering how we can create more new beginnings, clean slates and tiny Edens in our lives. My friend Rebecca find hers in her well-tended gardens in Arlington, VA. My friend Jill finds hers in the timbers of southern Iowa. My friend Susan finds hers on the Atlantic beaches of Jacksonville, FL, while my sister-in-law J does the same on the Pacific coastline of Carlsbad.
An hour ago, I found my Monday-morning Eden on a walk along Bear Creek with Al and the tres amigas–Bridge, Maya and Kayti. A huge blue heron was striding mid-waters. Even the dogs watched silently.
All God’s creatures know sacred.