The Essence of Belonging: …You persist, And a clean wind measures your persistence. Along a cleavage in space the day becomes, And you conspire in t… - N. Scott Momaday

Now that I can have her only in memory, I see my grandmother in the several postures that were peculiar to her:

I am an elder, and I keep the earth. When I was
a boy I first became aware of the beautiful world
in which I lived. It was a world of rich colors — red
canyons and blue mesas, green fields and yellow-
ochre sands, silver clouds, and mountains that
changed from black to charcoal to purple and iron. It
was a world of great distances. The sky was so deep
that it had no end, and the air was run through with
sparkling light. It was a world in which I was wholly
alive. I knew even then that it was mine and that I
would keep it forever in my heart. It was essential
to my being. I touch pollen to my face. I wave cedar
smoke upon my body. I am a Kiowa man. My Kiowa
name is Tsoai-talee, “Rock Tree Boy.” These are the
words of Tsoai-talee.

I came to know the land by going out upon it in all seasons... until it became the very element in which I lived my daily life.