I’ve returned at least 5 times to the place beside the creek that I felt was a den of snakes. Each time I stand there looking intently to see if this is indeed their home or a place they frequent that I just happened upon one day. Nope…have seen no sign of snake there since the day they surrounded me.
June 5, 2015
This morning, after a blustery night, I walked out into a strange and penetrating stillness. Everything was silent. It was the kind of silence that seems global…it entered me on every level. Even Ubuntu, after a rambunctious wrestling with four other dogs last night, was slower and calmer too. I invited that stillness further into me.
Bu and I walk into the field to the north ~ a kind of gentle still-green tumbleweed talus slope, yet in places I recognize the way in which the more primary grasses and wildflowers are beginning to reclaim the field…the delicate Rice Grass, the firey orange Globe Mallow, the fragile white Primrose, the prolific purple Spider Wort, and the tall graceful Needle and Thread grasses. All of these are friends whose seeds I welcome in my open hands, to loosen towards windscape and bare sand. Something in me remembers this primordial way of being a disperser…a seed carrier.
Seeds want to cling…they beg to be brought along…to know new lands and they use their fantastic ingenuity to help them. This morning I first noticed the Needle and Thread seeds were caught in and round Bu’s collar…so I took in that they were ready to travel. They were in heat! As I walked on, my fingers gently offered a filtering system as I brushed the tops of the seed-laden grasses…teasing bundles of seeds into my hands, and then dropping them into areas beyond where they presently thrive. As I entered the house I noticed that more had already worked to establish themselves in me as fertile ground…just as their name suggests, they poked into and through my shirt and pants.
Sex is a constant celebration in Earth. What is not erotic in the play of seed and field? Flower and pollination? Earth and her Beings are constantly fulfilling the mandate of Creation. Eros reigns as the conductor to this great concert of communion called Life. It seduces and ravages, invites and pushes, intoxicates and receives, and in so doing, we are offered a secret garden…a welcoming teacher, and a trickster player in the Grand Game of Generation.
Now in the monsoon hours of the afternoon, the stillness is almost instantly subsumed by a thundering spring rain…taunting and alluring the seeds still deep in soil to burst their shy cloaks of hiding and push out into the world of so muchness.
Warmth, moisture and nourishment…the perfect seduction!
The sun beckons the clouds.
Clouds beg the rain.
Rain pushes into Earth.
Seeds imbibe, swell and rupture forth into Life.
Stillness becoming motion.
Rain, building now into a fierce lover, rails sideways onto Earth, water gathers and runs together, following ancient courses…cracks and crevices now aflush with roiling liquid…seeking some invisible sea.
Attraction never ends…that eros is a part of all things
Slowing ….pools and puddles are left on Her belly awaiting absorption…seeping in with elegant patience…the allowing quenches the slow thirst of Earth body, receiving the storm of Sky…a tryst with the Holy.