What nourishes me during this time of trial is the garden, the soil, the trees, the bees, the birds, the insects, the seeds, the flowers and leaves, the water, the miracle of sweat cooling in a hot breeze. So grateful to Mother Nature for centering my embodied being inside the maelstrom we humans plunged into some time ago. Weeks? Months? Years? Decades? Centuries? Millennia?
I’m also grateful to have survived nearly 80 years, as witness and hopefully, conscious participant, in what does seem to be The End Game. Not the End Times, but the End Game. Notice the difference. One is apocalyptic, our entire world blinking out in nuclear fire; the other is truly a GAME. We have learned to view this game from above; by now we are familiar with the players, the rules, the finite framework within which it is played. And we know: the entire contraption, this deep state apparatus, “real” though it may appear, floats in Mystery.
I came in from garden “work” this noon to find Tiger on the porch. He knows how to balance his energies: intense, dynamic hunting, playing, connecting with neighbors near and far, then bam, gone. Out like a light.
And not just on a comfy couch. He knows how to sleep anywhere, draped over anything.
Tiger trusts the universe.
As does this beautiful flower . . .
. . . which Plant ID identifies as a a “crocosmia,” supposedly native to Africa? It’s been unfolding little by little over the past three days in the midst of purple pirella, native to Asia. This flower’s buds offer their own timeline, Nature’s timeline, here slow and imperceptible, and then, suddenly, unexpectedly startling into magnificence, as tiny buds bloom one by one or two by two, starting with the two at the top, over this past week. I have never seen this plant before; it came in, unbidden, via the birds?
Nature persists; her ways are both magnificent and mysterious, cycles within cycles within cycles, undeterred by whatever frenetic, fibrillating humans conjure up with our febrile, feverish monkey minds.
”And you? My teacher looked up, his left eyebrow arched, pencil poised. 'I want to do a paper on the concept of time.’” I mumbled, timidly. 'Time?' He sniffed. “I wouldn’t touch the subject. Too difficult.” — AK, 1967
Ph.D. 82
Astrologer, published author, conference presenter, world traveler, founder & editor of Crone Chronicles: A Journal of Conscious Aging (1989-2001) , and founding visionary of Green Acres Permaculture Village (2010 to present).
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I don’t know what to say…I love your words your work. At least three years now. Every message rings true. I get my energy from my garden too! Thank you Ann. Lorraine
We are “on the same wavelength.”
Right on Tiger!!!! We are so blessed by the natural world. It is showing us to bloom anyway. Show our colors as we contrast beautifully with the colors of others. The light and the newer vibrations are pushing out the lower vibes. The exposure is assaulting but it is in the throughs of a true death roll. It has to remove itself or become a higher vibration. The Earth is NOT waiting. Nature is showing this in your very gardens, Ann. just wonderful