Wednesday, 21 March 2018

Each tree as living praise

Everything alive, and even those things we say are not - rocks, water, viruses - sings in praise of Being-ness. Sings in praise of what some of us call God.

With each breath I take as I stand among trees I breathe that praise into my lungs. The very molecules of oxygen dance with joy through my bloodstream.

That's reality. That's Creation.

And that's what I forget when I spend too long among humans who don't have that awareness built into them the way the trees do. The way my friend the Raven does. The way the web of mycelium under the soil does.

Of course it actually is built into the cells of the human being, but for most that awareness is damped down. Hard. Locked away, lest it reach into our daily lives. We all know it as children. We all feel it for fleeting moments when we're filled with love. When we see it in the eyes of someone else, we want it. But when it comes right down to it, we ..

Wait, no, not we, they fear it, for some reason. For some thousands of reasons.

None of which I want to know, ever again. The taste of that fear once or twice in my life was enough.

So here's the deal. You think you want healing for your body?

Wrong - What you really want is praise on your lips.

And since 'we are what we eat', then if we eat praise, we become praise, embodied. So eat what's already filled with joy, drink the living water of Being-ness.

"But where shall I find it? Where can I buy it?"

If you have to ask me that, you'll never hear the answer no matter what words I use.


So, as I said to Paul yesterday as we drove past miles of alder edged streambed, when I take alder (a so-called antibacterial) and calendula (a so-called antifungal) in my coffee every morning I'm not taking something that kills microbes. I'm taking in the praise alder gives as it lives poised at the water's edge, the praise calendula shines forth as it sings in the sun .. their praises to Being dance in my body with the microbes' own, a dance that's graceful, balanced, living.

Do you see what I mean?

You can't buy that.

Go to the alder, go to the stream, go to the calendula, sit with it in the sun; that's where the medicine is. That's where you'll find the praise springing forth from your lips.

Saturday, 17 February 2018

Tuesday, 30 January 2018

Riffing on Carl Jung. And crowbars.

I was listening to my current favourite writer/philosopher being interviewed about his work, and he said, "I try to put a crowbar under every sentence, to see if I can lift it off the page. I don't move on until that sentence is welded down. I do the same with the ideas I'm trying to put forward, searching for flaws or weak spots in my arguments. In effect, like any good scientist, I'm always trying to disprove my own theories."

I'm paraphrasing, since it was weeks ago that I heard that and it would take me forever to find the actual quote. The point is the way that it has stuck with me.

Tuesday, 9 January 2018

Medicine chest - the first 5

Someone was asking me for a list of the herbs I have in my medicine chest .. ho boy.

Seeing as how I've been obsessively collecting and messing about with just about anything that grows in our area for a couple of decades now, there's a lot of stuff in my 'medicine chest'. I've filled the shelves and cupboards of an oversized china cabinet with various sized mason jars, jam jars and tincture bottles and another, the one that officially is supposed to hold the good china, is starting to see more than just my Grandmother's dishes.

To read the rest of this post go here .

Sunday, 7 January 2018

I'm ranting again

And it feels good.

The rant is here and the post before it you may not have seen (10 crazy ideas for better living) is here

See ya there!

Monday, 25 December 2017

Friday, 15 December 2017

Pruning dead wood

(Click to enlarge Paul's pics. It was in the -20's that day, gorgeous!)

The other day I heard someone say that the reason it's so hard to tell people why you love (classical) music is because music picks up where words leave off.

Yep. Exactly.

And so it is with so much of life as I experience it. There is so much that I just can't express
because words can't go there. The things I do in a day, when described, sure don't look like they would create the kind of satisfaction and joy that they do. A stack of clean dishes in the rack. A swept floor. A home made cake. It's not the end results, not the things in themselves, but the doing.

"Mindfulness", they call it.
Must be non GM corn

Okay, except my mind isn't really engaged in those tasks so much as my heart and my hands. More often than not if the mind has anything to say I end up having to shush it, because who needs thoughts about what's going on in the world while making bread? Not me, and not anyone who will eat it. No, it's best to shush the mind and let the hands and heart and the dough be all that there is in that moment. Let the eyes, if they must wander, wander to the window, the tree tops against the sky. Then the mind, if it says anything, just gives thanks.