The Gathering 000

Prologue

Smoke Appears on the Horizon

Where I turn up to acknowledge, and apologize, for my failure to the land and my ancestors. For my inability to voice that which drums my heart, for my inability to sound out its call. For every second that has been spent wasting time. For every second I have not been doing this, sharing my story.

I sit at the circle with a curly haired man from the tanga and a large grey haired man that is a giant.

The curly haired man from the tanga sits and smokes his pipe. He has grown more patient with me now, I know it is only because he didn't have a choice. I failed to move with the urgency that he was trying to invest in me. The gift of his heart.

This big fat grey haired giant has only just arrived. Mostly I can see his big round naked belly with its white grey curly hair. He is sitting and sharing a pipe with the curly haired man. It makes me happy to see them enjoying talking to each other and smoking. The fat grey giant lays back on the ground in such a way. I wonder if this is because of his size, or a habit, or if it is simply comfortable. He has skins dropped around his neck. The curly haired man from the tanga has short hair, is tall and skinny. He has a habit of standing on one leg. He has a staff that he leans on and giggles some times. He has a colourful patterned shall or kaftan type top.

While I was gathering my senses and working out what to say, the large grey haired man looked over at me, opening one eye very wide and making it very large.

I am not quick enough to respond. They have to talk amongst themselves because I am so slow. Because I write this slowly. Their conversation happens between each other, filling the space of the background, while I struggle to get up to speed. The gathering has a patience and ongoing force of life as gears grind against gears in my human body, as cells, tendons and my mind open to the gathering space. I stand as a ghost half in one world half and in another. Part of me watches three twisting tunnels of smoke appearing on a distant dusty horizon. There is a journey set out between me and that smokey signal. Part of me is already there at the end point looking back at the path that has been set. I can only wonder at how I got here across time and space.