Soul Archeology

July 9, 2020July 9, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Meditations, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Ancient, Archeology, Creative writing, Flash Fiction, History, Micro-fiction, Photo prompt, Relationships, Self Discovery, spirit, Vulnerability, WritePhoto 20 Comments

Photo: Sue Vincent

They were literally walking on the bones of ancient past.

The bones of actual ancients, too, if you want to be exact about it.

He contemplated telling Liz then decided she was more likely to be spooked than awed by the notion. So he let the soles of his trekking boots crunch wordless greetings with each step, and he set his mind to wonder, radar-style, about the centuries he could not see and so few even knew about, yet lay here for every person to experience. Literally. Through the mounds. These monuments to earlier.

It was an odd thing. History.

Will others one day tread upon the remnants of his, and will any ever stop to wonder about the life he’d lived, the vistas his eyes had feasted on, the memories he’d placed into the air with every exhalation?

If so, what would they think, and how did he feel about the possibility?

Not great, he realized. Especially if those future humans would by then have skills for viewing molecules of thoughts or the equivalent … His mind, unearthed, would be a bit like having archeologists come across a buried midden: plenty of data, but far from being the end one would wish presented for scrutiny.

He shuddered. More from shame than worry.

“These are man-made,” Liz noted from behind. The path was narrow and they could only walk single-file.

He nodded, unsure whether she had misinterpreted his reaction or — as she sometimes could be — was eerily on point.

“I wonder if they had intended for anyone to walk on these,” Liz added.

He stopped. There was something in her voice. A fullness.

He turned to her. Her cheeks were wet. Her eyes were red. How long has she been crying?

Her lips turned up at what she must have seen in his expression. “I’m fine, Shawn,” she breathed. “It is just that there’s a sense of spirit pushing like a memory-foam against my feet …”

His own eyes filled and he shook his head, surprised at the emotion.

“See?”

“I do,” he nodded, reached for her hand.

The fields below them stretched wide and green to the horizon. The air sighed with the scents of grass and rain and years and sun.

“This place,” he braved, “it makes me want to be a better man.”

For Sue Vincent’s WritePhoto

Sized History

June 9, 2019November 12, 2019Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Photography, Poetry, Reflections, Writing Tags: Archeology, History, Israel, Micro Poetry, One Word Sunday, Past and Future, Photo Challenge, Poetry, Pottery, Size, Tel Zafit 14 Comments

Tel Zafit, Israel (Photo: Atara Katz)

Take a measure

Of history,

Held in hand

Like a gift

From time.

For One Word Sunday: Size

Ancient Crush

June 4, 2019November 12, 2019Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Photography, Poetry, Reflections, Writing Tags: Ancient, Archeology, fpj-photo-challenge, History, Israel, Olive oil, Past and Future, Photo prompt, Photography, Poetry, Reflections, Turmoil 4 Comments

Yam lower stone for crushing olives AmitaiAsif

Photo: Amitai Asif

You’ve seen nations

Rise

And fall,

Felt oil

Extracted

From trees’ toil.

You’ve seen

The farmers

Tend the soil,

Bread dipped

To nourish

Heart and soul,

As children laughed

And played

And lived

And died

Through centuries of

War and spoil,

While you remained

Above the boil,

Till peace returns

For olives’ roil.

Note: The photo is of an ancient base stone (called “Yam” in Hebrew) of the grinding stones that are used for the first step of extracting oil from olives. A current-day olive grove can be seen in the background to the left. Olives were first domesticated about 6,000 years ago, likely in the Mediterranean basin. Documented history of deliberate oil pressing can be found as early as 4,500 years ago (around 2,500BCE).

To this day, making olive oil involves several stages of crushing and rinsing to extract the oil. In many places, olives are still harvested by hand or by beating the fruit off of the trees. The olives are then washed, and crushed by milling stones (traditionally between a bottom stone like the one in the photo and one or two mill stone that stand perpendicular to it and roll around the base stone). The millstone/s were historically moved by use of man-power or animal power, and in some places still are. The pulp is placed in woven bags or baskets, then the baskets themselves are pressed. The liquid from the press bags gets drawn into a reservoir where oil is left to settle and separate. Oil is then skimmed off and allowed to settle again, sometimes repeatedly, to remove impurities.

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Ancient

A Bell To Tell

March 17, 2019Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Current events, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Photography, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: Archeology, Bells, History, Lens-Artists, Past and Future, Photo Challenge, Photography, Poetry, Ruins, Stories, Through children's eyes 20 Comments

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Ephstein

What lesson does history tell

Of shattered bits,

And scratched on bells?

Can peals of old

Be heard

Be said

So we not ruin

What’s ahead?

For the Lens-Artists Photo Challenge: History

Floored

January 4, 2019Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Muse and Flow, Photography, Reflections, Writing Tags: Archeology, art, Cyprus, Floors, fpj-photo-challenge, History, Mosaic, Paphos, Photo Challenge, Photography, Poetry, travel 2 Comments

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

Not a rug

But a floor

You’ll be floored

To adore

As you find

Even more

To marvel

Galore.

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Floor

Carved Time

December 16, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Meditations, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Ancient, Archeology, Creative writing, Cyprus, History, Photo Challenge, Photo prompt, Poetry, Timeless, TimeSquare, Weekend Writing Prompt, Writing prompt 7 Comments

ancient cyprus1 SmadarHalperinEpshtein (2)

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

Long years had

Carved the stone

And cleaved to blue

The sky,

Yet puffy clouds

Still gawk as they

Meander

Idly by.

For the December Squares Challenge

Horse Spirit

September 29, 2018September 29, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Archeology, art, Flash Fiction, History, Micro-fiction, Paleolithic, Portugal, Short Story, What Pegman Saw, Writing, Writing prompt 27 Comments

Photo: Palaeolithic art at Foz Côa’s Archaeological Park, Portugal

“Why do you hit the rock with sharpened stones?”

Golin quaked under The Elder’s frown. It was forbidden to harm The Rocks That Shelter. The big stones protected them from biting teeth and snarling maws. They stopped the wind. They held back scorching sun. They reflected heat from fires.

And let flames paint shadows, Golin thought.

“He will drive away Horse Spirit and we will starve,” Morsen scowled predictably.

“Let him answer,” The Elder said.

Morsen seethed. The old man always favored Golin.

“The Rocks That Shelter do not anger when the fire lives in them,” Golin pointed at the dancing reflection on the wall.

“He makes no sense,” Morsen pouted. A few others nodded but The Elder’s stony gaze did not leave Golin’s face.

“They draw the fire near,” Golin stressed. Couldn’t they see? “Perhaps The Rocks That Shelter will welcome Horse Spirit and call it here.”

For What Pegman Saw: Douro, Portugal