When the Salmon Remember

Every autumn,when the mountains begin to whisper of snow,

something ancient stirs beneath the waters.

The salmon remember.

No map guides them.

No voice calls their names.

No hand points toward home.

Yet somehow,through oceans without boundaries,

through currents and darkness,

through rivers rushing toward the sea,

they turn and return.

To the river that first carried them into the light.

To the stones that cradled their beginning.

To the sacred waters that have never forgotten them.

Perhaps this is what it meansto remember who we are.

The salmon do not question the journey.

They surrender themselvesto something greater than knowing.

And when they arrive,the forest gathers around them.

The bear waits beside the river.

The eagle circles above.

The raven watches from the cedar.

The otter slips silently through the water.

They are all listening.

They take what they need.

Nothing more.

The salmon give themselvesto the great turning of life

their bodies becoming nourishment,

their journey becoming another beginning.

The forest receives them.

The river receives them.

The earth receives them.

Nothing is wasted.

Everything returns.

And I stand beside the river

and wonder about us.

We too were born from this Earth.

We too drink from her rivers.

We too breathe the ancient breath that has passed through cedar,

through eagle,

through salmon,

through every living thing.

Yet somewhere along our journeywe began to believe

that taking was the same as having,

and having was the same as being.

We forgot the sacred lawthat the salmon seem to know.

Take what you need.

Leave enough for another.

Give yourself back to the whole.

And so my heart becomes heavy when I see abundance turned into scarcity,

when enough becomes never enough,

when the voices of the wildare silenced beneath our wanting.

But beside the river I do not wish to condemn humanity.

I wish to remember.

I wish for us to rememberthat the animals are not beneath us.

They are walking beside us through the same mystery.

The salmon are not merely returning upstream.

Perhaps they are carrying a message

from the deep places of creation:

You belong.

You have always belonged.

Nothing lives alone.

The eagle belongs to the salmon.

The salmon belong to the river.

The river belongs to the mountain.

The mountain belongs to the rain.

The rain belongs to the ocean.

And we belong to all of it.

Perhaps this is whyI feel something sacred when I watch the salmon struggle upstream.

I see a prayer written in flesh and water.

I see devotion without words.

I see a creature giving everything to complete the circle and make room for those who will come after.

And I pray that one day we too will remember.

May our hearts become quiet enoughto hear the river.

May our eyes become gentle enough to see the sacredness in every creature.

May we take only what is needed.

May we leave enough behind.

May we learn once again that the Earth is not something we possess

she is the body through which we are all breathing.

And when the salmon return, as they have returnedfor thousands upon thousands of seasons,

may we stand beside them not as masters,

but as humble relatives.

Watching.

Listening.

Giving thanks.

And remembering the ancient truth flowing beneath the water:

All life returns to life.

All breath returns to breath.

And nothing that is truly loved is ever separate from us.

With Love

A Mc  ( Just Be )