I Long to Know the Hidden Truth
Marya of the Wood
I stand amidst the falling snow, deep within myself. Wintering has become a challenge. I call upon the ancient mother that resides in me—the old soul that has offered guidance since before birth. She leads me back to the womb, a place that exists outside of time and awaits the return of its daughter. I crawl back inside, where the maternal spirit wraps itself around that which remains.
Winter is winter. It just is. I live in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, and I am blessed. Countless lakes, rivers, ponds, and mountains offer an abundance of trails and sacred spaces for exploring and nestling. Woven into the fabric of the dense woods are healing plants, mosses, and stonewalls that begin and end with no reasoning. They beg to tell us their stories if only we would stop long enough to listen.
"Giant boulders scattered randomly along the trails are tales in themselves. I long to know the hidden truth."
We walk amongst our ancestors; they speak, sing, and whisper to each other and to us. If we are aware and open, we will recognize their familiar voices, possessing infinite knowledge often accessed in dreams—in the Knowing Field.
The many souls who came before died and were customarily buried. Their remains, their very bones, enriched the Earth with countless layers of memory. These beings nourished the land, air, and water, providing a source of lasting awareness from one single being to the whole. Decomposition becomes a perpetual nutrient; the cellular structure is slowly released into the ecosystem, absorbed by the land and all that grows from the roots and soul of the planet.
Each cell holds a minimal amount of its former self—the entire memory and knowledge of its wholeness. Cells continually release themselves as building blocks of life, fueling the planetary memory until it is re-formed again at another place in time.
Often, we sense the presence of the ancient ones through the subtle movement of trees, birds, animals, and plants. They have walked the Earth before us. It is what they knew then and now as they guide, guard, and protect life and the living.
At times it is peaceful, as they harmonize with the elements. Then, there is a hint of unresolved conflict—the residual of lifetimes saturated with unresolved grief or trauma. This is often unknowingly passed down from one generation to the next. Out of unconscious loyalty, we may inhabit the wounds of our ancestors, carrying and passing them along to other family members if we aren’t careful to acknowledge our roots.
Some of the ancestors argue while others are aligned with each other and us. Some know why they remain, while others do not comprehend why they walk with us. They have forgotten or may have never known. It is they who need the most consoling.
Together we are in awe of each other. They long for us to know their wisdom, to heal each other, the Earth, and all living things. We cannot know all things. The very ancient ones are our guides. It is up to us to awaken to them.