My Grandmother had different bells for different purposes. This one she would ring it at noon, face the east, and meditate/pray to her ancestors who were now in nature. As a child you never think of it. This is life. When you are older you realize some may think it’s strange or just not understand it. Last night I was reading about my ancestors; their migration through the US, their lives, their practices, etc. They were known throughout Tennessee cultures of the Appalachian Mountains through their Ozark dwellings where they migrated and stayed. What struck me was a detailed document that was written about them in 1690 by French Traders that were carving through the underbrush of the Southern Appalachia. (modern English translation) “The practices of these villages are not of the settlers we have encountered here. Their months are counted by moon cycles and their day hours by the sunlight only. They speak a broken form of Elizabethan English and all of them have black hair with light eyes. At noon, like one person, the whole village would face the East at the ringing of a bell. Simultaneously kneeling to nature.” That gave me chills and I got teary eyed. I went upstairs, picked up my Grandmother’s bell, and rang it for her.
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