The Mud Labyrinth

{short-tale on the prima-materia & eco-mythological research}

The tale

Ava, the Old, lay asleep against the rocks, lulled by the hypnotic sound of the stream at the bottom of the mountain. Her slender body snuggled naturally into the rocky concavity, soothed by the gentle roar of the stream. Her restless granddaughters, Lâmica and Màra, played nearby while other women picked berries, gathered nuts and dug tubers a little further on. They all knew this path, and they travelled it every year, following the streams fed by the spring rains and thaws. Plump, short legs learnt the trails following wrinkly, fragile legs. Young, restless hearts listened raptly to the wisdom of ancient stories. Rainbows often blessed the steep path when the sky was decorated with bands of a thousand colours that blessed the group's passage.

They learnt the route as children, repeating it seasonally every year until old age. Like Ava, now supported by her walking stick, decorated and soaked in the memories and stories of the various cycles she had travelled. This journey was from the Sierras to the river paths, ponds, and marsh trails that their mothers and grandmothers had travelled before them in a concentric pilgrimage that took them to the origin, the centre, the root of life. Over successive generations, the songs, stories, and rituals were passed down from mother to daughter, from grandmother to granddaughter. The women began their pilgrimage in late winter and early spring, following the guidance of the Seven Sisters, the constellation that rose above the sunset in the west. Their grandmothers had told them that when the Seven Daughters of the Night fell with the sun in the west, hot summer was about to arrive. 

This is a season of gathering and celebration, community rituals, and festivities of the waters of birth and Life. Moved by the constellation of the Seven Sisters, and despite the differences in the landscape each year, their route was guided by the stories and memories of each stone and tree, each stream and gushing water. They traversed mountains and ascended ridges, accompanied by the vigilant eye of goats and wild horses, and escorted by the residing beings of the region. As they climbed or descended the steep slopes, they were welcomed by the fog, scorching heat, thunder, or the woods' hum. Kinship and care were not limited to the women and children but included the animals that animated their journey, such as the caterpillar and the ladybird, the butterfly and the firefly, the worm and the spider; and also the weasel and the wren, the drain and the toad, the bat and the snake, the bears and the wolves. All participants in the dance of the world, each in their way watching over the unfolding of Life.

Ava woke up from her nap, her body throbbing with memories of when she was a child and crossed this same route hand in hand with her grandmother. Out of nostalgia and responsibility, she got up and slowly refreshed herself in the cold stream at her feet. Lâmica and Màra joined her, splashing enchantedly in the drops that rose from the stream's surface, glistening in the sun. "We're almost there," remarked Ava, and together they sang the song of that stretch of path, the melody of the cool water and the steep banks, the trove of the woodland edge and the distant echo of the salty winds. The other women and children sang in unison with the currents and birds chirping. They donated seeds and spit to this part of the path and continued their journey. The sun was already high, and they wouldn't reach the Labyrinth's centre until dusk, just in time to see the Seven Sisters appear briefly in the sky.