There are those who believe our destinies are mapped out long before we make the trip down the birth canal. We come into the world with contracts, missions, and prescribed paths to follow and fulfill. Signs which serve us as guidance along the path toward attainment of that personal destiny appear often when least expected. . Maybe. Events are not happenstance, but instead serve as reminders of subconscious mysteries, guiders and propellants toward fulfillment of this mystical mission in life. Maybe. You make up your own mind.
Passions spring up, sometimes starting as just a gurgle in the gray matter, sometimes a roaring lava flow hot and moving. Whether they are born as a part of our genetic DNA, whether they appear with exposure to the world and practice of who we are in the world, I may never know. Whatever, in some way they seem to be a part of the destiny trail. My passions toward the Native American and Meso American culture probably began with a little bit of religion, a lot more reading, and one or two concrete objects.
Perhaps a sign of ideas to come, the stone axe stared up at me from the corn field and vegetable garden where I cultivated around the vegetables, pulled weeds, and even plucked off fat green tomato worms engorged from munching. I loved to run barefoot through the dirt just to feel the warm loam squeezing through my toes. Imagine my surprise when I came across this well shaped stone axe half submerged in dirt. Indians had lived here on this very land, not a really surprising finding to me today, but extraordinarily mind boggling to a 10-year-old to find true evidence of their previous existence.
Indian Stone Axe, Drawing, 2008
Copyright 2008 by Charlotte Shroyer
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