Monday, January 25, 2010

Roots Don't Just Grow In Dirt


Where does it all begin? For me, it started from the very beginning. I grew up in it. The outdoors. I, like a lot of us, grew up without a lot of fancy things and even if I had I believe my outcome would have remained the same. I spent my time exploring. The more I looked the more I saw. I was fortunate enough to grow with people of similar interests. Mainly family. I was encouraged, not held back, to find out more about myself and the land I inhabited. I would catch frogs with my uncles dog on my grandfathers farm from sun up till sun down. I built elaborate forts out of sticks and branches. Sometime I wouldn't do anything but sit and watch. As I sat motionless and quiet as I could, I began to realize. That if I sat long enough it was almost as if I wasn't there. I got my first taste of what it was really like. The grass would dance with the breeze as its partner. The birds sang along. Dragonflies, of every color, seemed as if they were composing this masterpiece with their acrobatic flight. I was intrigued. I wanted more. As I grew, so did my interest in what I was beginning to realize what my roots were. Now, times can be quite confusing at best, but never forget your roots and heritage. People have sacrificed and more so given us the time to establish them. Be grateful for all. It's up to you what you do with them. There are many beautiful things still waiting for us and surrounding us. The more we see them the richer and more fulfilling our lives are. All is not about where we're going, but where we came from.


The photo above is of myself on our family farm paying respects to a memorial tree that was planted after the passing of Anne Komarek, my Great Grandmother.