What Makes an Ancestor?
What Makes an Ancestor?
White hair, long, braided down your back, or flowing freely, catching the whispers of the wind. Face marked by the feet of at least two dozen crows; the more, the wiser. One whose count of sunsets remaining, no longer outnumbers those sunsets seen. And yet, And yet... Is that little girl, in her yellow rain boots helping frogs cross the road, not an Ancestor to each and every tadpole born that spring? Or the young man, who adopts a pregnant dog from the local shelter, not an Ancestor to innumerable generations of pups to come? Is the farmer who decides against using toxic chemicals, not an Ancestor to every plant and seed, ant and bee, living on that land? And the elementary school class, who spent their Sunday cleaning up the beach, are those children not Ancestors to every inch of life that sand supports? Age does not denote wisdom; Length of life does not equate to depth of experience; Ancestor is not Elder. While I hope to live long enough, and well enough, to be considered both, I can be an Ancestor now, here, today, without needing to have raised any babies of my own. What kind of Ancestor do I want to be? One who loved this world fully, and lived my life, in my own way. xx
