The ancient legend tells:
The pine trees were crying.
Pine resin? Or tears…
And the cold salty water turned the tears into the amber.
I don’t know how long it took. Must be a very long time.
I was not there for so long. So, I don’t know.
We went to visit her just for paddles, swim and meditation.
That was in the childhood.
In the autumn, after the heavy storms we come back to the sea shore, walking slowly, looking for the uneven, rough skin stones, the amber. Picking them up, holding in hands, putting in pockets if too many of them.
I am just wondering does our Baltic Sea still have those precious gifts?
That was in the childhood.
We didn’t know it as meditation, we just looked in her colours and calmness and sometimes talked to Mama Sea. Particularly when heart was full of something heavy.
Maybe the amber was something precious but really heavy when accumulated in Mama Sea’s heart.
Maybe the amber was something precious but really heavy when accumulated in Mama Sea’s heart.
Maybe she really has a heart, which holds pine trees’ tears in it, till it becomes too much of them, too heavy? Then she releases them, the amber.
In the autumn, after the heavy storms we come back to the sea shore, walking slowly, looking for the uneven, rough skin stones, the amber. Picking them up, holding in hands, putting in pockets if too many of them.
And the taking them to school. Not to show to others! It’s not a secret, but we just take them there to make something.
We are so lucky to have a crafts teacher who knew what to do with the amber and all the tools, needed to turn it into jewellery. The necklace for mum, a brooch for grandma and more.
And I made them and more.
I sill remember how to do it.
Might do someday.
I am just asking to myself…..
Where is the amber?
In my hand, in my pocket?
In the Sea, in my heart, in the making?
I don’t know, I just hold it tight,
If I have some…
And feel all the sunshine, all the tears, all the strength
Of trees and sea and maybe me….
We are so lucky to have a crafts teacher who knew what to do with the amber and all the tools, needed to turn it into jewellery. The necklace for mum, a brooch for grandma and more.
And I made them and more.
I sill remember how to do it.
Might do someday.
I am just asking to myself…..
Where is the amber?
In my hand, in my pocket?
In the Sea, in my heart, in the making?
I don’t know, I just hold it tight,
If I have some…
And feel all the sunshine, all the tears, all the strength
Of trees and sea and maybe me….
I am just wondering does our Baltic Sea still have those precious gifts?
Maija Ozolina
11 comments:
That's really lovely. 👏
A beautifully written post.
Obviously it's my favourite form of jewellery. I loved your poetic blog.
That's a lovely poem.
Fascinating, for its style and content.
What a beautifully poetic blog Maija. Your love for your homeland comes shining through.
A delight to read. I didn't know amber is found washed up on beaches.
Beautifully written and paced. I enjoyed this so much.
Excellent. A most enjoyable read.
That's lovely.
A wonderfully written blog. More please.
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