HIPPOCAMPAL CONNECTIONS
I know that fragrance…It is The Divine. Honeysuckle and freshly cut grass with a
hint of lavender. Never changing, and always revitalizing at just the right time.
The zephyrs of early spring’s dawn that whisper and pirouette across brand new maple
leaves have carried that fragrance and stung my nostrils with their cool crispness.
And I recognize those stars too…sparkling and twinkling brilliantly against the
azure and aubergine backdrop we call Sky - like the glitter on my homemade
Christmas ornament from second grade.
Wonder if it’s the same brilliance that guided Harriet?
When I saw them murder that tree one day, it sickened my soul. Not just any tree,
but THAT tree. For what they said was a disease. A disease? I counted his rings
- all 60 of them, and mourned the span of his mighty limbs and strong embrace
from which I would swing on hot summer days - for the breeze. And when I met
his cousin with 200 rings, my tears could not hide the feeling of deep ache and
unspeakable sorrow in the abyss of longing.
And when I heard those lilting, haunting melodies from voices so full of pain and
strife lifting and drifting up toward the heavens, they carried my soul right along
with them, just like those People Who Could Fly. I know they could fly.
I tasted the warm earthy sweetness of the butternut squash and peanut stew nursed
by calloused hands with wooden spoons for hours over an open fire, it’s smoothness
an embodiment of comfort and belonging that cannot be described by mind or
tongue. Only the heart knows.
And when I look out over the horizon, I know that the heart never stops beating, the blood
never stops flowing, and the river of life we call Soul- lives on for all eternity in us all.
—Robin D. Newburn, D.O.
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