Sometimes I forget that under the silk, denim, lace, cotton, rayon, leather, powder, oil, hair, skin and muscles, there are bones in my body. So padded and protected, my bones. It’s a slightly uncomfortable epiphany, when it comes, that a skeleton walks within me. An image associated with death and darkness. And yet when visible, the earth’s bones – protruding from the landscape, sharp and rugged, bereft of foliage – inspire awe and wonder, not fear. Comfort. Like a wise man’s weathered face. Eighty years to a human complexion is like 800,000 years to the earth’s bones, and I think it’s quite true, as legend goes, that the rocks and minerals of the earth possess the wisdom of past souls…
Imagine the original native people living their harmonious lives close to nature. They lived, acquired wisdom through experiences, and died. Generation after generation was buried in the Earth where bodies were transformed into elemental Earth forms once again. Dust to dust. Bones and flesh changed into smaller and smaller living organisms, microbiological and chemical life elements, the nutrients that create future bodies through the plants, soil and stones.
Though the soul of the human being has left its material form and expanded into higher levels of life, it has left something of its wisdom in each element from which it had previously taken human form. Literally, the stones are our higher vibratory bodies, possibly finished with Earth incarnations, but they have left us their life wisdoms in the substance of earth itself.
—Carol Bridges, The Medicine woman Inner Guidebook