Large Fierce Mammal

“The birch was obviously very special to your Father in Law, and the fact that you found the bark tells me that he was also very special to the birch. The next time you’re out in the woods, take an offering of some kind to the birch tree.” ~ Laurie Lacey

Let children walk with Nature, let them see the beautiful blendings and communions of death and life, their joyous inseparable unity, as taught in woods and meadows, plains and mountains and streams of our blessed star, and they will learn that death is stingless indeed, and as beautiful as life. ~ John Muir

The twenty-fourth day of March marked the seventh anniversary of the death of Mrs. LFM’s father, Ryszard Kleszczynski. Much has been written here about Ryszard, but today I am inspired to tell yet one more story because this year’s celebration of his life came with a depth of meaning previously unseen.

On the night of this past full moon, through the midnight transition from 19 to 20 March and from winter into the first calendar day of Spring, Mrs. LFM and I went for a walk in the vast expanse of forest that begins, and ends I suppose depending on your perspective, literally at our back door. The night was perfect, magickally lit, and breathlessly still. We returned both at peace and exhilarated.

In the course of that walk, about two thirds of the way through, I discovered that a piece from the end of my walking stick had unscrewed. Being a small black plastic disk, it had silently disappeared into the night, and it was my expectation that it was gone for good.

Me and Milo. I’ll leave it to you to figure out which is which.

On the afternoon of Tuesday, 22 March, I came home from some mundane errands with a burning desire to go for another walk in the woods. In my mind was also the feeling that I would like Milo to accompany me. Milo is our best search and find Dog, but on that afternoon, a simple desire to have him as my walking companion, and not his exceptional skills, was in my mind.

We hadn’t gone far when I realized that there was a high probability Milo and I would find my missing hardware if it was lying either in the open or where Milo’s exceptional nose could detect it along one of the trails Mrs. LFM and I had walked, but I was also aware that if it had come adrift while we were traversing the untracked woods, it would be up to Nature if She chose to let Milo find it or if She would keep it among the choir invisible. Nothing to lose though, so I cleared my mind and simply enjoyed the walk.

As we went, Milo was, as usual, attuned to everything. There is a river that parallels one of the trails Mrs. LFM and I had followed, and Milo and I walked down to its bank, stopping for a while to watch the clear water flow by. After a time, I decided to move on, so we began walking up the gradual slope that led to the trail that ran along the river’s length. We hadn’t gone more than five steps, and Milo was slightly ahead of me, when I could see his head begin to weave from side to side as his nose caught a scent. Suddenly, he paused in mid-step, grabbed something from under the pine needles that covered the trail, and tossed it to the ground next to him, right in front of me. It was the missing piece from my walking stick. Without knowing he was looking for anything in particular, Milo had picked out a scent that didn’t belong and exposed its source. He was well rewarded for that bit of work, let me tell you!

So what does all this have to do with Mrs. LFM’s father? Everything! Read on!

The gift of the Birch.

Milo and I continued along the path Mrs. LFM and I had followed along the river, and when we reached the spot where older growth trees bordered it, turned eastward toward home through the untracked woods. When we were about half way home, we crested a small knoll and my eyes locked on to a blatantly obvious thing – a nearly rectangular piece of Birch bark about the size of a playing card, lying white side up, dazzlingly white in its contrast against the moss on which it lay. It was a few feet to the right of my path, and lay angled so that its white surface was aimed almost perfectly at me.

I stopped and looked at the bark, and then at the trees around us. While Birch share that forest with other species, I could not see a Birch tree anywhere nearby, and yet here was this bark. An urge to pick it up and bring it home came over me and so, without hesitation, I did just that, nestling it safely between some items in a belt pouch.

When Milo and I returned, I told Mrs. LFM about the bark, and showed it to her. I then placed it on my desk and proceeded to write about Milo’s accomplishment like the proud Dogfather I am.

The morning of 24 March came with a pretty dusting of snow, and both Mrs. LFM and I turned our thoughts to remembering her Father. We took the day off from our regular duties, happy in the midst of our Pack of Dogs, and we both wrote and talked about Ryszard.

That was the day Mrs. LFM and I had an epiphany about her father and his connection with the bark of the Birch tree that resulted in my sending the following message to a wise and Esteemed Friend, Laurie Lacey, seeking his advice.

A couple days ago, as I’m sure you saw, I went for a walk with our Dog Milo knowing he would turn up a missing piece of my walking stick. As usual, he didn’t let me down. On the way back, through what many might consider “random” woods (but we know better) I found a piece of Birch bark, about 3 inches by 2 inches, almost perfectly rectangular and white side up, lying in my path. I felt compelled to pick it up so I did, put it in a pouch for safe keeping, and continued on. It’s lying on my desk as I write this.

I had forgotten at the time I picked up that gift of Nature that my late Father in Law loved the smell of burning Birch bark when Diana’s family went on their annual Kejimkujik camping trip. Today is the 7th anniversary of his death and I feel the message is clear. Tonight I will burn that bark in his memory, but besides the sentiment I’m looking for some Natural wisdom that can be expressed in words in the moment. Neither Diana nor I are religious in the so called Christian sense, which I’m sure you’ve absorbed from the past, and I usually feel intuitively how to proceed., but this is one of those things where Nature has given me something I want to honour properly.

A small fragment of Nature – this piece of bark – small fragments you and me. And yet She connected us. I ask your advice. What do you think?

I wrote those words to Laurie on the afternoon of the very day the bark was, to our minds, to be burned to Ryszard’s memory in our own yard, and yet the timing wasn’t feeling right. To both Mrs, LFM and me, there was something missing, and so we postponed doing anything right then. All to the good. Here’s an excerpt from Laurie’s reply, sent early the following morning.

You know, I often say that the world’s a crazy place – “crazy” in a good sense, and in the sense that, for example, when you walk in the forest or over the fields, or elsewhere, you never know what you’re going to come across. You came across that piece of bark – that’s what I mean. It’s special. It was a special gift of remembrance – gifted by nature and to be shared between you and the spirit of your Father in Law. No need for analysis. It just happened. You know it’s special.

I know you’ve probably already done your thing with the bark, but I’d also suggest something else. The birch (probably a white birch), was obviously very special to your Father in Law, and the fact that you found the bark tells me that he was also very special to the birch. The next time you’re out in the woods, take an offering of some kind to the birch tree. It could be a little tobacco, or something else. Place it at the base of the tree, as thanks, and with the thought that the birch is a special connection to him. Later, perhaps, as the season warms, you might want to rest with your back against a birch – make a practice of it – you never know what inspiration you might receive.

Special. That word hit a chord. Mrs. LFM and her family have a connection with Kejimkujik National Park and she had felt a need to go there on this very weekend. The bark, Laurie’s advice, my Mate’s desire to be in that place – it all came together. We resolved to be in Keji on Saturday, 26 March 2011.

Here’s an excerpt from my 24 March 2009 article, written in memory of Ryszard:

The Eagle is a bird that features prominently in Polish heraldry. On the day of Ryszard’s death, as Diana and I drove home across the Corkum’s Island causeway, a breath taking Bald Eagle flew low across the road in front of us. It, or one just as big, has often been seen in our vicinity on many occasions thereafter and I can honestly say that in all the time I’ve spent outdoors in my life, Eagles were never so much in evidence as they have been since.

As if the decision needed any further proof of affirmation, on Saturday morning an Eagle came to Mrs. LFM when she went outside with some of our Dogs, for the usual morning reasons. She came inside and told me that today was clearly the day because, while watching over Dog issues, she had looked up to see an Eagle flying along the river, perfectly at her level of sight.

Knowing that Keji was the place the smoke from the gifted bark needed to be sent to honour Ryszard’s spirit, and within minutes of hearing about the Eagle, I went to my desk resolved to assemble words fit to be spoken at the sending of the smoke. Opening Google, I typed in the search terms, “an Eagle came to me” and instantly found the perfect piece for the opening verse at the very top of the list. Its title, naturally – An Eagle Came To Me. I was not surprised at the immediacy of the result.

Neither Mrs. LFM nor I can lay claim to any Indian lineage, but our personal spiritual beliefs coupled with the sacred nature to the Mi’kmaq people of portions of what is now the Kejimkujik Park led me to a traditional invocation prayer to precede the smoke ceremony.

Last, I wrote words of my own to express our purpose, and our thanks both for Ryszard and the gift of the Birch to him through us.

Last afternoon, Mrs. LFM  – my beloved Diana – and I went to Kejimkujik and were greeted by an assemblage of  Deer. We walked to a spot of her choosing and there, charged by all that is truly powerful and Holy in the world, most of all by that which burns so incredibly bright in my Diana, I built a small fire and, presided with the greatest of honour over the ceremony that follows.

The ceremonial fire.

Opening Verse

by an unknown author

Spoken aloud by me, with that very morning’s message from the Eagle in mind.

One morning,
An Eagle came to me.
After circling my yard,
He landed on a rock
In the river.

“I have a message for you,”
He said in a voice
That rose above the current
And filled me with attentiveness.
“It is time for you to rise
Above the pain and sorrow
That has darkened your days
And made your nights intolerable.
Just as my wings allow me to soar
Above the rain clouds to the sunlit sky,
Your strength, wisdom, and compassion
Will lift you.”

“How do you know it is time for me to rise?”
I asked respectfully.

“Your wings are complete,” he answered.
“Just as each feather in my wings
Strengthens my flight,
Each step you have taken in your healing
Has prepared you for this moment.”

Invocation Prayer

Spoken by me, and repeated by Diana, She who brought the Power.

Oh, Great Spirit, whose voice I hear in the wind,
Whose breath gives life to all the world.
Hear me; I need your strength and wisdom.
Let me walk in beauty, and make my eyes ever behold the red and purple sunset.
Make my hands respect the things you have made and my ears sharp to hear your voice
Make me wise so that I may understand the things you have taught my people.
Help me to remain calm and strong in the face of all that comes towards me.
Let me learn the lessons you have hidden in every leaf and rock.
Help me seek pure thoughts and act with the intention of helping others.
Help me find compassion without empathy overwhelming me.
I seek strength, not to be greater than my brother, but to fight my greatest enemy
Myself.
Make me always ready to come to you with clean hands and straight eyes.
So when life fades, as the fading sunset, my spirit may come to you without shame.

The Gift

Spoken aloud by me.

Great Spirit, Grandfather,
Creator of all things,
Mother Earth, from whose womb all life springs,
We come today to remember your Son
Ryszard Kleszczynski.

We are the humble instruments
Honoured with bringing  this sacred gift
Given by Brother Birch,
And blessed this very morning by Brother Eagle
To be burned in your presence at this place of Meaning and Power.

(The gift of the Birch to Ryszard is placed on the ceremonial fire by Diana.)

We offer this smoke in Ryszard’s memory,
And as thanks to You for all that has been bestowed
Through him.

After the ceremony, we walked the forest and then cooked a most satisfying meal together, departing long after dark. This was not a day of sorrow dear friends. Far from it.