Preserve

In good time, in good way, a road full of circles has brought us straight where we need to be.
Since the time is good, and the way is too,
I think we should begin with a story.
Not all stories are written in paper.
Most do not even rely on words.
Many stories have not been told yet.
Many more have not even been written.
But all of them are remembered.

Let us, then, remember together. Let us remember the stories that will drive us near.

Who, among us, wants to share the first word?
This good silence is a good beginning. Silence, the most eloquent of storytellers.
Perhaps the second to speak will be the Cacti.
Straight and dignified. Prickly pear and rough edges. One flower soft and yellow blooms. Even in the most hostile desert sun there is kindness. And yellow and pink.

Lavender and rosemary might speak next. If we are lucky, even though luck has not been granted permission to speak - we might hear Lavender and Rosemary talk of soothing and healing. Perhaps they will show us how beauty can be so simple. How they can be queens of harmony. Their voice I’m sure, must be light and fresh, it must be how their entire being is infused into one impossibly perfect smell — ahhhh, yes, I remember now.

Our host will be the last to speak.

In the old ways, and if we want to make the old ways new again, every good host knows how to listen, how to wait. Every good host knows how to share, and when to share.

Gentle patience might be the mark of a good host. If I had to pick, those would be the words.
Although, we know now that we are looking for eloquence beyond literacy, so words might not be what we need.
If they were, gentle generosity might be the words we used.
A gentle, generous solid silver green olive tree stands tall, in the same place he has been standing for longer than we have been speaking.

Be steady
Slow
Generous
Preserve water
Know, now the relationship of this landscape with your human heart.

The bones of the people in these places know this type of steady, slow, consistent overflow of giving because they know the preciousness of water, the giver of all life.
So deeply felt that their physical beings, like the olive trees, become something different to contain every last drop.
And what is an olive but thousands of generations of a family that learned to package hydration in one single piece of fatty fruit?

"Preserve" says the tree. I am you, and you are me.