Leaving mountains and concrete and pollution,
confusion and mayhem beyond management,
I was eighteen and moving
far away from small minds and big noises,
ignorance of the intelligent forsaken
for silence of trees and waters
and loss of language.

Not where I was raised, but undeniably the place I grew up;
granite soil and swarms of biting flies,
redolence of creatures in rut echoing unchecked animal drives
holding the key to my liberation,
though I did not grasp that brass ring
until two daughters and stark betrayal hammered it
into my frightened hands.

There is no safety in security.
This I learned very early on, and so sought the edges
to be both stricken and rewarded;
aurora borealis spreading wings across star-pocked skies,
call and companionship of loons ululating
across placid crystal waters, defining the advent
and retreat of winter ice, bringing me back
to my roots in terra firma.

How uncommonly life follows the trajectory
of birth, umbilicus pulsing with ether and anesthesia,
infant strangling and backside-first,
metal tongs pulling me, kicking and screaming,
into this world.




13 thoughts on “HATCHED

  1. This is extraordinarily powerful Bela, candid yet universally applicable in part. I too picked up on the first line which Sue quotes, and was reminded of Alan Watts’ book The Wisdom of Insecurity. I also appreciated the implied teleology of the ‘brass ring’ metaphor, that is, if I understood you correctly.

    Much gratitude and love, Hariod. ❤

    1. Hariod, my thanks for your kind words.

      I’ve not read Watts’ book, yet my assertion is by no means a unique discovery. I think if more of us understood this, we would be a far more peaceful species. Just think of all the wars fought, the violence and unkindness perpetrated through fear of losing some illusory sense of security – either that of perceived freedom or of preserving currency that has no intrinsic value. How ironic it seems. Do we all fear death, the great leveler? Is that what prompts so many to cling to what cannot long endure? And yet everything we observe in nature demostrates that life perpetuates itself, merely changing form. Why would we be the sole exception?
      Aloha, Hariod. Enjoy the rest of your week! ❤

  2. “far away from small minds and big noises”

    I first read this as

    “far away from small minds and big noses”

    Which might perhaps have been equally accurate? 🙂

  3. Dear Bela,

    As always your word-play is deeply hewed and one needs to dwell and savour the word linkages to be able to discern the droplets of wisdom within. Wisdom, as you have yourself written, waiting to be born.

    The following lines resonated for me.

    “far away from small minds and big noises,
    ignorance of the intelligent forsaken
    for silence of trees and waters
    and loss of language.”

    What is it that holds the major part of humanity to these “small minds and big noises” and the clutter of words, sounds and language from all around? What is it in these external aspects that bring some kind of comfort and solace to most folks?What is that opium like quality that exists within such noise and chatter?

    As I think of this aspect, I get the sense that there exists a kind of discomfort in us to be confronted with new, yet unexplored thoughts and experiences. A discomfort of needing to move away from our set responses and models of reality and go through the pain of shifting away from our inner hard wiring. And shift to a new pathway for our thoughts and possibilities. So, many of us choose to avoid this pain and remain drugged in the comfort of “small minds and big noises”.

    You Bela are obviously blessed to have become conscious of the above and then choosing to move on. I need to acknowledge you for that.


    1. Shakti, first let me say I am always gratified to notice a comment come through from you. It always humbles me to realize how acutely you tend to the nuances embedded in the text I’ve written. How lucky I am to have such readers as you and Hariod Brawn, both who think and write with heart and a depth I admire.

      If I understood ‘the opium-like quality that exists within … noise and chatter,’ I would better comprehend why certain people prefer to live in cities among throngs of fellow humans. I am clearly not one of these people, for if I had to live that way, my spirit would surely shrivel and languish. I need Mother Earth like I need blood and oxygen, and in turn, she responds to my admiration and tending. In the end, if we all wished to live as I do, the sacred places I have been blessed to called home would cease to exist, at least in their current form. So I am grateful for the urban dwellers among us.

      It is far easier for me to relate what lingers in the richness of silence; the music of the wind or the smell of ocean spray than it would be for me to explain why certain people cannot live as I do; are fearful of such stretches of nothing but trees and skies and rocks and ocean. Such folks may well eschew the blackness of night as well as the sounds of geckos and frogs that accompany stars and moonlight at the drawing down of day. It’s unnerving for them to hear blood coursing through their veins and their own heart beating. The cycling of the mind seems somehow preferable to delving into silence, but for me, that silence is the wellspring of creativity and energy on all levels.

      In my chosen way of being, discerning the calls of various birds or sensing little feet scuttling into underbrush is far more nourishing than the clatter of city traffic or empty words spoken just for the sake of patter, my own included. Where some fear change and chaos, others of us seek them out, recognizing chaos as the order of the universe as it moves into cycles of expansion and contraction. And I don’t mean the confusion created by humans in a desperate sort of bid for diversion; rather, the seeming fragmentation of elements not yet congealed into trees and weather systems and new growth and decay.

      All life on this planet is born to die, perpetuating yet another cycle of birth and death. It’s astounding and fascinating to witness, and so focusing In rather than checking Out is simply one way of Being. Fearing death may propel many into the busy-ness you speak of, in fact I don’t doubt this is true. Yet I am a realist, choosing instead of fear to explore and exalt in the mysteries and wonders of this life as long as I draw breath.

      Aloha, Namaste, and love to you, Shakti. Be well.

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