WE ARE GYPSIES
(Nancy Rosulek Kramer)
The winter is a time of migration. For animals to move to places that best fit their needs. There’s a magnetic force that pulls and pushes them where they are supposed to be. The earth’s rotation and position orchestrate these directional dynamics, the logistics of the flocks.
With migration in the air, I look to the sky. The rising southern sunbeams cast the path for the formations of the Sandhill cranes- whose staccato calls are their group anthem, an encouraging reminder of their belonging. Being born into a certain clutch is inherent membership and a directed path from Birth until Death.
This dictated framework- an easy formula for purpose and belonging, a to-do list for a freedom from going astray. No unpredictability, no self-doubt, no emotions or exclusion, no analyzing, no politics. Just a forward migration to a warmer place.
An alluring temptation for a species with no magnetic pull- a species so driven, but often lacking direction.
The bewilderment of our existence… is CHOICE and OPPORTUNITY
The chaos of our formula is INDEPENDENCE
The conundrum of our framework is FREEDOM.
We do not migrate…
We wander… we explore… we desperately search…
We are GYPSIES… within our own minds.
And this QUEST… is our gift…our purpose… is our belonging.
We are part of a species- set free from any dictated path, a liberation that is overwhelming and engulfing…
Freedom clearly comes with its beloved companion, ANXIETY.
A whole universe to categorize, systemize, compare, contrast, sort through, summarize…make sense of, efficiently implement results, timely execution-
…All before our hourglass drops its last particles of sand.
As gypsies wandering the insides of our minds, searching for symbols and meaning inside and out, I fixate on the life of a water molecule. Flowing with its fellow water molecules, bouncing, twisting, dancing, turning… in a direction, on a path- some destination of temporary subsidence. What is the molecule’s need? Community? Balance, to be of service- nourishing beings around it, transformation into a higher state of being… evaporation…to join a cloud?
The winter brings clouds to the California sky. They seem to have a slow, purposeful easterly journey. What if the clouds have a dramatic story? An exodus from persecution, wandering refugees? Fighting a battle against division and unity…accumulating too many of its own, brings its own demise… an invisible enemy that forces dissipation of their own…pulled by gravity, hurled helplessly back down to the earth, from where they had just finally risen… being separated and lost from one another like Jewish orphans. Down below they are scathed for the damage they sometimes bring, flooding towns, breaking levees and damaging homes. No one is interested in the power and nourishment of a water molecule when their child has just drowned in a flood.
The Sandhill Crane looks down on the swollen rivers and floodplain with relief, as she has traveled from Siberia. This is her resting spot for the winter. Where she will find food and safety from predators as she is surrounded by water. As I get ready to snap a photograph of a pair- light grey, bright red heads, dancing with one another in the shallow waters, I glance over to a sign on the fence which reads:
“WARNING: STOP THE INTRODUCTION OF THE NON-NATIVE, INVASIVE ZEBRA MUSSEL. IF INTRODUCED THE ZEBRA MUSSEL MAY SEVERLY IMPACT THE ECOLOGY OF THE LAKE. IF YOUR BOAT HAS COME FROM ANOTHER LAKE OR RIVER, SCOUR THE HULL TO SCRAPE OFF THE MUSSELS.”
Introduced to the United States Waters from the ballast waters of ocean liners, they have become the target of international policy to protect our native species from ecological destruction.
Taken from the water of their native homeland, unknowingly and against their will, they attach themselves to any rock or anchor they can. In their dislocation and isolation, they band together… learning to not only exist in this new foreign land, but to thrive. But this progress for their kind is not looked upon kindly. There is an order, to find and destroy any and all of their form. To keep them out of the waterways!
Winter brings the run of the salmon. Out in the transboundary waters of the Pacific Ocean, the chinook make their way back up to the mouth of the river. They push against the pesky water molecules which push them back, but they fight on their journey, making it upstream for their final destination, following the smell of the origin of their spawn, an invisible force which leads them to not only the place where they will lay their eggs, but which will be their final resting place. For less than a day or two after their spawning, they will die, and their purpose will have been fulfilled.
Let the winter festivals begin to celebrate the rituals of nature, the winter solstice, the cycles of the planet, the native species and their invisible forces which lead them.
While at the same time we celebrate diversity, but ban the evil mollusk who thrives in the face of adversity and persecution, like the Pakistanis who own the AM/PMs or the Vietnamese refugees choking on acetone in their nail salons.
The sneaky Chinese jumping carp, Japanese Kudzu, Brazilian water hyacinth … so demonized…?
Winter brings a visible side of the water cycle- clouds. It also brings migration, contemplation of foreign worlds and microscopic frosty worlds on our doorsteps, transplanted people, non-native species, refugees, immigrants, zebra mussels.
There’s a realization that, even as wandering gypsies in the depths of our minds, another season passes, and we can be witnesses to the flows of all these phenomena. But we cannot organize, categorize, systemize, summarize, sort through all this universe offers us. We can only deeply observe and have gratitude for the complexities that we weren’t ever meant to figure out.
We do not migrate…
We wander… we explore… we desperately search…
We are GYPSIES… within our own minds.
And this QUEST… is our gift…our purpose… is our belonging.
May we wander kindly, with open generous hearts, including one another, and learning one another’s stories.
May we wander together as gypsies, lifting each other up and pushing each other on.
May the winter bring warmth in our hearts.