Quarry Contemplations,
Galleries #1
,
#2, #3,
#4
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The Native Americans who lived around these parts believed that the earth was sacred and alive – the Great Mother, from which all life came. The river alongside it was alive as well – the Great River. The abundant wildlife that sustained them were their brothers and sisters. Everything was alive in a spiritual sense. The Wangunk Indians, like all Native Americans of that time, considered everything a "thou" rather than an "it." They lived in reverential accord with nature |
| From this natural/spiritual point of view, the Portland Quarries were part of the Great Mother, part of her very person, which she sacrificed for the well-being of her children, who settled in these parts. In this instance, the stone was part of her body. Cut, shaped into blocks, carved with names and dates, and chiseled into statues. The Great Mother gave of herself willingly, as her children thrived and built houses, near and far. |  |
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Brother eagle often watched
from on high, admiring this parental act of love, yet
fearful that the Great Mother might sacrifice too much. When would it end? What would
be left? Centuries passed and more and more stone was taken away. The excavation pit, with its scarred walls and dusty basin, gave the appearance of a great wound upon the land. Gouged and lifeless. A certain beauty remained, however, the proud, sad, majestic beauty of the Great Mother’s sacrifice. |
| The eagle finally expressed his concern to the
Great River, who was also
worried. For the Great Mother was their mother as well, and for a much
longer time. The river decided to act. One day, it took its flood waters
and reached farther than ever, hiding its normal shores and
deluging what lowlands that it could. It was reaching out to touch the dark, grainy walls of the Great
Mother. With much
straining, it finally reached its goal. In doing so, a rush of cool water poured into the
quarry basin, effectively halting all labors, protecting what was left
of the Great Mother. The Mother could now relax and heal her wounds. The eagle wondered about this, as it circled overhead. How could such a massive wound be healed? Stone does not grow like flesh and blood! |
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Healing occurs in
many ways. The water that remained there brought
new life to what was once a barren pit of discarded stone. Plant life
started to flourish. Ducks visited in season. And then there were fish. Even the craggy walls of stone came alive, with green plants taking root in every crack and crevice. New life heals as it flourishes. |
| The Great Mother lives on, proud of her sacrifice, proud also of the myriad lives she daily sustains. She is healed at last, but her wound remains for all to see, reminding us not only of her unselfish love, and our natural dependence, but of the tenacity of life and change. She quietly beckons us to visit her and marvel. |
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Photos by John Monroe, National Park Service. |
