I had always viewed these temples as a symbol of Cambodia's past magnificence and splendor, but on this last journey with Wongkantir, the temples suddenly felt different. Tucked away from the main temple complex, I found a small ancient ruin I had never seen before, but that looked similar to the temple by Jon, bearing the same image of Jayavaraman VII, arranged in four directions. Growing close and towering over the ruin was a giant jambok tree, tall and slender with a light trunk. The temples in this area were dedicated to the protector, both the Hindu god Vishnu and King Surya Varamana II, a name which means protector of the sun. Looking at the monument with the faces pointed in four different directions, each face and mouth bold and distinct, I was reminded of Pa and the Mukmat or face and mouth recognition he wanted for himself and for his children, he held the role of protector in an outspoken way, wanting to be seen for his service. Slowly I turned away from the monument and gazed at the jambok tree. This tree which offers valuable shade and nuts reminded me of Ma and the love, care and food she nourished us with over the years. She protected us discreetly, teaching us the skills we needed to nurture and nourish ourselves and our families. During a family visit in Stockton, Ma said to us, her children, you are all grown up and nang kchal now. I have taught you well. You know your own taste. You can cook and make your own dishes and now you are able to love and care for your own family the way I have loved and cared for you. Nang means to know, kuchal means wind or breath. In kamai, to come to maturity and understanding of oneself is to know the wind or to know one's breath. When I listen to the kamai saying again, kalnadini, dongso kapnadino, It becomes clear to me that buried with the placenta is also the 도 or the stem of the placenta, the umbilical cord, the lifeline between mother and child through which the child receives vital nutrients and breath. Although the umbilical cord was cut between 말, this connection lives on, blessed by pa, linking my breath to the earth and my taste to the land, wherever I may be. Now that I am older, I know where this breath comes from, from the earth, from the wind. I know this breath. Therefore, I know who I am.

This summer, Emergence magazine presents Shifting Landscapes, a new four-part documentary film series directed by Adam Lofton and myself, which looks at how art and story can help orient us amid the darkness of our time and bring us back into kinship with the living world. Following four storytellers from around the world, this series explores how each the alchemical power of story to connect and transform us as our landscapes change and disappear. From June through September, we'll be releasing a film each month. To watch or find out more about this special series, head to our website. Emergence Magazine is an initiative of Caliopeia Foundation. Our original essays, in-depth interviews, films, and rich multimedia explore the threads connecting ecology, culture, and spirituality. Our theme music is composed by Logan Stanley and eight Scott Salinas. This podcast is edited by Erica Neininger and produced by Shauna Quinn and Emmanuel Vaughan Lee with writing by Lucy Womold. You can subscribe to our podcast wherever podcasts are found. To subscribe to our newsletter, order our new print edition, and check out more of our stories, visit Emergence Magazine.org.