I have been thinking a lot about seeds. They entered my consciousness from many different directions this year. Perhaps because they indicate new beginnings, and this is what I am involved with right now. I have been pondering children, a vegetable garden and truth, not to mention a vocation. Many dimensions of seed sowing, many new lessons to be learnt. As usual, I am (seemingly) asynchronous with the rest of my world- always either behind or ahead, depending which way you look at it. As I contemplate beginnings, the world is (seemingly) in the throes of death, with endings everywhere in sight. Loss of life, loss of employment and shelter, loss of routine, socializing, income sources, beliefs and systems. An overall loss of ‘normality’. An objectively bad time to be sowing seeds and making plans. Yet here I am, thinking about it all the same.
I mean, someone’s got to do it. Life must go on, indeed it does. Without the new, where could we go from here? Better to be as conscious about the whole matter as possible, in case the tired, unhelpful old tries to re-enter as a zombie in the picture, breaking in from the back door.
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I don’t know about you, but I, for one, am ready for the new. It’s not my job to support the current structures, it’s not my job to safeguard the powers that be. What do I care about your power, when you never cared about mine? The new way dictates wholeness, and so there will be no fighting on my watch. I am creating a new world as we speak, and I invite you to participate in the creation, because we are made of each other, and there is no being me without you, and no you without me. What do I care about your power if it’s incomplete and weak in my absence? The sooner you realize this, the better.
Reader, did you imagine the above to be a personal conversation between me and you? A social or political statement, perhaps? Yes, all the above and more: it is a conversation between myself and Spirit. Make of that what you will.
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Curious things are stirring in the back yard. A neighborhood opossum, visiting the garden every night to do its business, trampling my zucchini squash and digging up my carrots. Swarms of dragonflies, alighting on the clothes line like wacky garden lights; flickering blue, green and yellow beads on a string. Yellow irises and fragrant jasmine blooming, pink garden roses, red cardinals, and the hens sprawled out and sunning feathers in a gentle, cool breeze. Survival is important – truth is more important.

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