By Teresa Williams
In the darkness
of this winter morning
I think of those
tortoises
on Santa Cruz island,
walking
their invisible pace
up from the grassy plains
thousands of feet
to the high meadows
and forests,
their ritual escape
from the dry heat
below.
They have travelled
these well worn paths
each season,
for centuries and
this pilgrimage, imperceptibly
moves
slower than the speed
of any dawn
they may wait for.
When you pass them by
these ancient living stones
from the sea,
you can almost hear
Time
laughing at you
and your rush
to arrive
at the top of a hill.
Once there, however,
you will believe
again
in miracles,
when you see
those tortoises
resting
in small pools
of water.
And there is a sense
of deep satisfaction
watching
those giant beings
as they rest in water,
as if everyone
has found
exactly
what they were
looking for.
It is still dark
and winter here;
I do not find
a well worn path
in front of me
nor a place of return
where
each year
I can find
a second home
high above the sea.
No, from this place
only a tangle
of paths
where
these animals
called humans
are moving
in all directions
at once.
Concealed
in this frenzy
of movement
is thirst,
looking moving looking
for higher ground
for a quiet place
to relax
and drink in
something clear
and
true, an element
of coolness.
So, for the moment
while the darkness
lasts
and the thirst
intensifies,
I will crawl away
from the tangle,
go deeper
inside this haven
I have found
of hexagons and
slowness,
and here, I will wait
for a light
for a path
for the place this
shell of waiting
may take me.
_________________________
About Teresa: Teresa Williams is a psychotherapist, poet and translator in Seattle, Washington. She has been writing and trying to live poetry for as long as she can remember. Her love for travel and the Spanish language has called her into translation work. She is also an active member of Grupo Cervantes, a bilingual writer’s group and literary community in Seattle.
Teresa’s poetry has been featured at births, weddings, funerals and several talent shows held by the closest of friends. Her first piece on red Ravine, Sound Falling From One World Into Another, was published in August 2010 and featured the poems: Swans, Two Coyotes at Dawn, and Tarot. Her last piece, The Devil’s Bridge, speaks to the legends and mythology surrounding bridges throughout the British Isles, Scandinavia, and continental Europe.
Reading this was like stopping to read a prayer in the middle of a busy, frantic day. Thanks for the reminder and for bringing me back home when my inner critic was starting to have way too much influence.
The turtles too brought me down to earth. Maybe that has some relation to why the Native Americans called this land Turtle Island.
LikeLike
Andrea,
I’m glad it had that effect. Someone else emailed me with a similar comment. Whenever I think of the turtles they help me to slow way down. Where are we trying to get to anyway?
t
LikeLike
Andrea, that’s exactly how I felt when I read this poem again in the middle of a hectic day. The turtles grounded me and brought me home.
Teresa, where *are* we trying to get to? I feel a kinship to your poem because Turtle is one of my totem animals. She has followed me around my whole life, and sometimes I follow her.
I’ve got this big snapping turtle shell hanging in the studio. I got it years ago at a flee market near Deer Lake, Wisconsin and ended up taking a series of photographs of it. Also used it in a papermaking project. The man who sold it to me told me everything about the Turtle shell and the Snapping Turtle that once lived inside. I’ve lived some of my life inside that protective shell. I do come out of the shell more now, but I’m just as slow as ever.
One of the coolest things I’ve ever seen is Turtle laying her eggs, planting those wet seeds in the Earth to be born again. Turtle grounds me. And reminds me about give and take — giving back what we take from the Earth. Your poem reminds me of healing, how much Earth is rumbling and rocking right now — it makes me wonder what is going on at the Center.
I wonder how there got to be land turtles and sea turtles. Did the sea turtles come first? Have you ever seen the sea turtles bury their eggs? I bet it would be something. And they live a long, long time. Amazing to think about.
The part of your poem that starts, “I will crawl away from the tangle” to the end — like a mantra. I could read it again and again.
LikeLike
Theresa, so rich, so many hits for me.
One is the image of a (seemingly) still migration, an annual tortoise parade that’s as old as time, leaves me longing for to reconnect with the human seasonal rituals. I’ve always thought migration involved epically long distances, and now am fascinated to know that just a few miles can be epic too. This feels very applicable in my life.
Another is that my migration path may look different than that of the goose or the wildebeest and perhaps I shouldn’t be comparing my self with others as I search for my path.
There’s also the reminder that any migration is just taking one step at a time.
Thank you for giving me so much today.
LikeLike
QuionMonkey,
I have never seen a turtle laying eggs, but swimming very close to them in the Galapagos Islands was one of the most magical experiences of my life. Being close to all the animals, sea-life and birds in those islands is an unusual experience that takes you back to another time of existence. I also feel very strongly that being in nature, following it, learning from its patterns and ways of behaving, can help us get out of our crazy “tangles”, even if for only a short period of time. We need the respite and the reminder that we are also part of the animal kingdom.
Mark,
Thanks for your reflection. I too, was mesmerized with the migratory aspect of their annual trip. It definately struck a chord in me, a longing for that type of repetition, destination, ritual with one’s tribe. It would be fascinating to study different animal migrations and see which one fits our particular temperment or nature. Have you seen that film, “Being Caribou”? Ahh, beautiful story of a Canadian couple who decide to follow a Caribou herd through their annual migration. And they did this for their honeymoon!
LikeLike
Very nice. It is crazy that the turtles are so driven to make that long trek. I guess we can be pretty driven too. Here they are in their pool.
https://picasaweb.google.com/lh/photo/_x7dmi_d5Mq2Ms6kKnRpw2Gac6zR7MFqk-nwamYGGDc?feat=directlink
Dwayne
LikeLike
Dwayne
Thanks for finding that picture….I know you had to search through about 400 of them! (Dwyane is my husband for those wondering about the photo and the connection to my poem).
LikeLike
Thank you Teresa and Dwayne!
Sometimes I get so weary of the shell I carry, but your description of it as a place for waiting for direction, for the right path to take, makes it seem not so much of a burden. Besides, the shell also protects and keeps us from being so vulnerable. It can be our secret hiding place…lots safer than the silly ostrich who is even much more vulnerable than turtle, when she sticks her head in the sand, right? I have a CD by Iris DeMent, on which she recorded, “A Higher Ground.” Are you familiar with it? It is so lovely, almost a hymn. (In fact it may be a hymn, I don’t remember.) Her mother sings along with her. It brings me the same sense of peace and comfort as your lovely poem does!
LikeLike
Oliverowl,
No, I’ve never heard of Iris Dement, but I will check her out.
In this poem, I was definately using the image of the shells as a protective place to wait. I was also thinking about the poem being a shell; a place to reflect, feel the slowness of life and listen to what other currents (not so driven by my hare like ego) might have to say about where I am heading. Shells hold the tension of opposites so well: beautiful and burdensome, protective and constraining, safe and dangerous (if we hide too long).
Thanks for your thoughts. I hope the words help you appreciate the slowed-down being mode of your existence.
LikeLike
Teresa, beautiful poem! I love how you highlighted so many different spiritual elements, I guess that’s the best word, for the turtle/tortoise. Turtles/tortoises are known for the longevity and their link between heaven and earth, so I found both of those elements within your poem. In times of chaos, I’m sure we all need the symbol of the turtle within in the rush/chaos of our lives. Even now with all the traumatic events happening across the globe, we need that stability–something that will ground us. Thank you for sharing this earthy poem with us. I enjoyed it immensely.
LikeLike
A~Lotus,
Good to have you stopping by. Not sure if you saw the photograph link to the turtles, but if you come back again, check it out, it’s in the comment line by Dwayne.
Observing animal life is very grounding. I notice as soon as I get home to see my dog, I always feel less caught up in my mental entanglements.
LikeLike
@Teresa,
Yes, I just checked out the photo right after you mentioned it. I do agree with you in that observing animal life is very grounding. I love the igloo-like lineup in the photo. 8) Speaking of dogs, I miss having one! Ah, how I wish I have a dog again. They are such loveable creatures.
LikeLike
Teresa,
I so enjoy reading your poetry and genuinely admire your talent. I’ve read Tortoise Highway a few times now and each time I find something I can relate to. The picture and your reference to hexagons reminded me of hexagons found in nature, which I’d been contemplating in my own attempts at writing; snowflakes, honey combs, rock formations (including Giant’s Causeway) and even a recent cloud formation on Saturn! I hadn’t thought of the hexagons on tortoise/turtle shells, they are quite beautiful. I found myself thinking of the ‘hexagrams’ of the I Ching, Kabala… so much to discover, not enough time to fit it all in. Perhaps I need to slow down and wait
‘for a light
for a path
for the place this
shell of waiting
may take me.’
There were other, more personal, aspects that were deeply meaningful to me and my life at present. However, I’m still wounded and in a process of trying to come to terms with my own and other peoples tangles. Your poem aided me in doing just that – thank you.
The world appears to be in a crazy space right now, but I believe there’s more good humans than bad. The quest is finding the right path to where you’ll find them.
LikeLike
Annie,
I appreciate your thoughtful responses and your own investigations into hexagons in nature makes me want to look for more. I initially became more aware of both “hexagrams” and hexagons in studying the paintings of Remedios Varo. She was a mystic at heart and was very interested in Ouspensky and Gujrdjieff and the quest to understand man’s relation to the cosmos. Many of her paintings have symbols of pentagrams, hexagons, hexagrams, etc. I began to have my own dreams with these symbols and have started to notice them arriving in my poetry.
Ouspensky said, “Art is a means of knowledge and that by devoting oneself to creation, the artist opens his mind to a multiplicty of possibilities, and is able to reveal enigmas and lead humankind toward the sphere of the unknown. To achieve such a thing, the artist’s work must rely not only on art but also on philosophy, science and religion…”
May your investigations into snowflakes and honeycombs, rock formations, etc. reveal to you things about life and your own existence that you never dreamed imaginable.
LikeLike
[…] Comments « Tortoise Highway […]
LikeLike
Thank you, Teresa, you are very kind. I had a look at some of Remedios Varo’s art on ‘google image’ and I was hooked! It really is beautiful. Right now I’m investigating how sound and vibration produce different patterns on matter (Chladni patterns/Cymatics) – a visual display of music 🙂
LikeLike
Annie,
I’m glad you like her. I’ve been obsessed with her work for years now and do a lot of poetry writing based on her paintings. I actually had the opportunity to see an standing exhibit of hers in Mexico City and was surprised at how small the paintings are.
sound patterns on matter! That “sounds” exhilarating. Are you a musician?
LikeLike
No, but I love to sing! My husband and all three of my kids play piano and guitar and I’m in love with all kinds of music. I first became interested in Chladini patterns from a fascination I had with Rosslyn Chapel (before it was made famous in the Da Vinci Code!) It’s a wonderful little chapel, more pagan than christian. Anyway, a couple years ago, a guy called Stuart Mitchell discovered a series of figures which he calls an “orchestra of angels” at the base of elaborate arches round the altar of the chapel, with each angel holding a musical instrument. Jutting out of the alter are little patterned cubes. He believed that these patterns were a cryptic form of music notation in which the patterns formed on the cubes represent the equivalant of Chladini patterns, with different frequencies producing different shapes – flowers, diamonds, hexagons…
He did mange to compose ‘The Rosslyn Motet’ from the patterns, which was shown live on the BBC – it was really quite lovely. I think you might get it on Youtube. Anyway, as I said earlier, recently I’d been thinking of all the hexagons found in nature, and it struck me that it would be a beautiful idea if the universe was singing and that’s what created the hexagons 🙂 Whimsical, I know, but I enjoyed the journey 🙂
LikeLike
Oh Teresa, btw, do you know where I could buy a print of Remedios’ work? I’m falling in love with it 🙂
LikeLike
Wow, Teresa! Your poem is beautiful and deep. Thanks.
LikeLike
Teresa, loved the poem and the idea that the turtles return to their home. It got me to wondering where I would go if I had an urge to go “home” to my place of origin.
Please thank Dwayne for the photograph. I wondered what the pools looked like.
LikeLike
Annie,
I wish I did know where you could order prints. I found one place that looked legitimate on-line and tried to oder a few, but after a couple of months they told me they were out of stock. I dropped the idea for a while, but maybe I will start looking again. I have 3 of her big pictures books which are satisfying me right now.
Roma, – thanks for reading and dropping in.
Bob,
Exploring the theme of home is a big one for me too. For now, I’ve decided that poems are my homes (hey that rhymes, maybe I really am a poet?).
LikeLike
Oh, btw, after I read the comments here I looked up Remedios Varo’s work and loved it! Thanks for the tip.
LikeLike
Teresa,
I had a good look as well but couldn’t find any. If I do come across a site, I’ll let you know.
LikeLike
[…] -related to posts: WRITING TOPIC — DEATH & DYING, Does Poetry Matter?, and Tortoise Highway […]
LikeLike
[…] Teresa’s poetry has been featured at births, weddings, funerals and several talent shows held by the closest of friends. Her first piece on red Ravine, Sound Falling From One World Into Another, was published in August 2010 and featured the poems: Swans, Two Coyotes at Dawn, and Tarot. It was followed by The Devil’s Bridge, a poem that speaks to the legends and mythology surrounding bridges throughout the British Isles, Scandinavia, and continental Europe. Her last piece for red Ravine featured the poem Tortoise Highway. […]
LikeLike