Full Circle

Until I moved to the Southwest I had no idea what the image above was.

It's a grinding stone used by the Native Americans called a matate.

The small stone is called a mano, used to crush the grain.

The picture doesn't show it well but the larger stone, matate, is worn in the middle.  

An indention perfectly formed by tens of thousands grinding motions made by the mano while in the hands of most likely a female doing her daily chore of making corn meal to feed a husband, children, father, mother or perhaps for a celebration.

This particular matat and mano is by the front steps of our home and we have many scattered through out the property.  EVERYONE that lives in our tiny mountain community has them scattered here and there in their homes and yards.  

They lie lonely, forgotten, abandoned and most times partially buried in the rock and rubble of  what was once their native home. 

Hundreds have been found here and I'm sure hundreds more are out there. 

A place I now call home.

A place that first was their home.

A simple tool that sustained the lives of thousands.

I touch the stones and can still feel the energies of those who touched them before me.

I believe life travels in circles.

We always end up back where we started.

Much like the stones that ground the corn, that made the meal that fed thousands.

It reminds me to mind my manners.

Respect my elders.

Walk gently.

Speak softly

For the day will come when my circle will be complete

And I want the center to be filled with all things good

So when the person who feels my energy touches the things I have touched

They will smile

And do the same.