Kithship is intimacy with the landscape in which one dwells and is entangled. –Rooted by Lyanda Lynn Haupt Dear friend, We share with you here some writing and visual art from the 6-week virtual spring gathering of the nature-inspired writing program, Remembering Our Place in the Sacred Circle of Life. Participants came together from California, Connecticut, Oregon, and New York. Discovery was the theme that surfaced this time. Writers shared how time spent in the natural world in intentional observation, even and especially, in a familiar place, resulted in new discoveries and a deeper connection to their environment. The Earth is pulsing with life, and we are too. Stepping outside on a regular basis, resting in quiet awareness, and opening our senses to kith and more-than-human kin, is a good practice to support well-being, creativity, and a sense of belonging. From my heart to yours, Christina Burress Board Member, OMEC  Morning Watch by Regan Stacey The fleet of feathers leave wakes, streaks of white waves against the black surface rippled with wind. The sun rises over the hill, giving light to color and form, warmth to the edges of night, a welcome contrast, the waking of dawn. The gift of a sleepless night lies in the emergence of light and life. What once was dark and indistinguishable is now layered with sight and sound. To participate, to witness, and to know, before the bugle, before the bell, there were the birds, and that first sliver of light that announced the day. On morning watch, a stillness claims the surface as the clouds come in and all is quiet again.  Earth Mandala by Jen VanBenschoten A Gentle Sea Laps, Bound by Mind on all Sides by Matt Higgins He quips into startled sincerity I am a birdfeeder I cast and I strew and I wait A flicker taps and cracks Papery shells flutter and flip Sweetmeats revealed to the diligent critic A bushtit’s legs are thin and straight But their nest’s a soft, sagging mass Stuck to sticks, aloft in space But he is a bullcow Limp grass between his broad, flat teeth He hopes a bird will land And pluck ticks from his broad, flat back And he is a limpet Obstinate and cold Sprayed with saline syrup Slapped with sheets of sugar kelp But he is a city crow, present and available And he knows if every quiet breath Of every quiet spring morning Were heard all at once Meter/sound-cacophony Cracked dam-dampens illusion Spreading silence.  Dear Tree by Sally Grauer Dear Tree, with your roots so deep, winding, stretching, absorbing, nourishing, communicating. Dear Tree, with your arm like branches reaching for the sky, transitioning from leaves, green to orange to red to yellow, to pods, to bare, to buds, how does it feel to be up so high, seeing the land from above? How does it feel to have the tickle of animals and insects climbing up your trunk, nestling in your branches? Oh, our dear giving tree, you protect us from predators and reach out in support to hold nests for the young. How does it feel to have the wind blow through your branches and leaves, to endure the heat, drought, snow and ice? How giving you are to all of us. You give us beauty, you give us protection from the wind, and shade to protect us from the heat. How empty this world would be without your presence. Worm Layer by Katy Joyce Spring is the time for weeds and new plants and trying to identify little flowers that pop up to say hello. When I pull a weed, I am immediately met with many worm friends and always say hello. I think the layers go: plants, flowers, trees, and volunteers; worms; granite. There is a layer just under the plants made entirely of worms. I see the happiness in the soil and the healthiness to sustain the worms.
Dear Friend, Have you heard of Millie the Mushroom? She’s the mushroom who longs to see the sky beyond her dungeon of mycelium magic below the earth. She’s also the one who learns the lessons of time and waits for the right moment to pop. Or perhaps you’ve heard of Lizard. Yes, Lizard, whose life abruptly ended after Eagle swooped him from his favorite wall where he basked in the sun. It was Lizard who was given a funeral in his honor to remind him and all of us that we matter. Or maybe, just maybe, you heard news of Wind, who at first wrestled with her unabashed fierceness. That is, until later, she realized how crucial she was. That in all her big ways, it was Wind who spread the seeds of ancestors from faraway lands like Burma to the United States. Clearly, you never had the chance to know their stories—until now. For they are tales my students created during our Stories from the Earth workshop in late January into February. These tales of Mushroom, Lizard, and Wind, weave a love story from nature, while also inviting each person to discover their own story, their own nature that longs to share itself. Beyond these chronicles, how often do we pass a lizard, a mushroom, or feel the wind at our back, and ask ourselves, what’s their story? How often do we invite ourselves to discover our own story—our own place of belonging inside the nature of things? A month ago, as I sat in the warm New Mexico (U.S.A) sun (yes, even in the winter), I observed the purple flowers crumpled inside the wet, green tea leaves in my cup. I pondered their journey. How far had these leaves and flowers come to sit here with me at my table, in my back yard? That same morning, a bee landed on my hand. I wondered what her story was, and that of the crows that had cawed all morning, waking me from my sleep. What was their tale? I wonder what would happen if all of us, for just one moment, stopped long enough to ask the smallest and biggest elements of nature to tell us their story. Perhaps, in listening, watching, and waiting just long enough, we will finally experience our place, our own story, as part of the whole, woven deeply into this miraculous web of life. That is my delicious wish for us all, including my workshop students who, every time, amaze me with their tales of wonder they bring forth. I hope you enjoy their stories included below! From my heart to yours. For the Earth. Michelle Adam 
Millie the Mushroom (excerpt) by Katalin Soni “I’m used to the dark. The soil is my home. The underground world is all that I know. But why am I so different?” Millie the Mushroom wonders. “Millie” the soft voice of Elder Oak resonates through her. “Chances are, one day you will see the upper world. Many before you have. One day, the conditions will be just right - and voila! Up you’ll pop! Millie the mushroom! My child, these things cannot be rushed. In fact, perhaps it’s best you just forget about all that for now. Millie the mycelium is already quite the miracle, you know…” Elder Oak’s gentle, nurturing voice fades into the space and fills Millie’s body. “Push and pull, stress and strain that’s what tires and dulls the brain. Always noting what you lack keeps one small and holds one back.” Millie drops into the hypnotic lullaby and feels a spaciousness expand within her. Bobbing like a buoy on a pristine, turquoise tropical bay, her hyphae are like seaweed, effortlessly swaying in the current. Her mind is quiet. She is an atmosphere of lightness.  LIZARD (excerpt from “Lizard’s Funeral”) By Matt Glasser I reminded Lizard that he had played an important role in the lives of so many of his friends and family, just a few of whom we heard from today. And I think that he would not have been unhappy to know that his life would end as it did. Although he had a sense that his time was near, I am sure he was surprised when he was snatched off his wall, in the middle of a nap, by an eagle. I imagine that she kept part of his body for herself and fed the rest to her chicks. And that is as it should be. Too many lizards today are run over by cars or eat some poison that humans have left around. These deaths are frustrating and can feel purposeless. But Lizard became part of the cycle of life, and that is perhaps the best end that any of us can hope for.
A Heart Shaped Message In September of 2019 my husband and I drove south from our home in New Jersey to the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia on the east coast of the United States. We arrived in the Shenandoah Valley early in the day. Truth be told, my home is bordered by beautiful woods; however, because now I was less distracted by life, I was able to notice the extraordinary manifestations of nature. On this day, after we checked into the Inn, we went for a hike and happened upon a tree that offered a special gift from Nature. How lucky I felt to notice it! It appeared that the tree had been somehow injured and the callous it created sealed its wound into the shape of a heart! If a tree is wounded, it forms callous tissue around the edges of the wound and creates a protective boundary preventing infection and decay from spreading into the new tissue. The tree isolates the older injured tissue with the gradual growth of new healthy tissue. I cannot say that at the time I recognized the spectacular connectivity between how trees “seal” their wounds and how humans also “seal” their wounds through scarring, both physically and emotionally. The difference being that trees don’t judge their scars, like we humans do. Instead, we spend so much time, money, and emotional energy trying to cover up our scars and erase them. I felt a deep connection with this tree. It took my breath away. The tree had created a glorious, shockingly apropos heart from its wound. Yet, when I revisited the photo as I wrote this essay I suddenly wondered if a human had carved that heart around the knot. The thought saddened me. Carving into bark damages trees. Yet, the insights I had gained from my first perception of a heart forming a scar around the tree’s wound stayed with me. A picture had already formed in my mind - of the tree representing nature, and a person, representing humankind, together creating a symbol of love from a scar that has helped to heal a wound. This message now held a clarity that I had never been quite so aware of. Scars, all scars, are worthy of our tender and attentive love. Not something to be erased. Our scars and nature’s scars can be recognized as avenues to loving ourselves and opening more deeply to possibilities of healing - ourselves, nature, the earth, and our human world. From my heart to yours, Lis Traphagen OMEC/Board of Directors
Sandra – From Chapter 9 Pine and Juniper Trees “…There is a very long tradition of a shaman finding a juniper tree that is willing to be a Prayer Tree for the people. And then days and days of ceremonies are performed to create a link between humans, the tree, and the divine. Multicolored ribbons are placed very loosely on the branches in order to not harm the tree. These ribbons hold the deep emotion from the people in the community who have prayers for themselves, each other, and for the planet. Outside my bedroom, I have a Prayer Tree that I worked with in ceremony to agree to accept prayers from me and those on whose behalf I put ribbons. This juniper tree is so ancient. I did not pick a young juniper tree with branches that look new and healthy. I picked a tree that has weathered so many storms and has initiation stories like me. We are very bonded, and I love placing prayers on the branches…”
Llyn – From Chapter 10 White Birch Tree “…The unique papery bark of birch trees easily peels and can fall off in long strips. I have two large sleeves of white birch bark that the land gifted me in my home state of New Hampshire many years back. These are treasured possessions, as they connect me with trees I have loved since I was a child. My childhood memories are filled with white birch trees. The white birch that grows from the charnel grounds of a destroyed forest teaches us to gather from the ashes of our lives what will revive as well as help us grow. Just as papery birch bark can be written on, we can tap restorative wisdom by writing about or sharing experiences that have really weathered us. The power of story is ancient. Having our story witnessed by someone who cares is healing…” May the teachings in this book help you walk wakefully as you find your way back home. From my heart to yours. For the Earth. Llyn Cedar Roberts, MA OMEC Founder
“..Sandra and Llyn are excellent guides who help us step into our true power and polish our souls, even when life seems too difficult to endure.” —Marci Shimoff, #1 NY Times bestselling author, Happy for No Reason and Chicken Soup for the Woman's Soul The Enchanting Hoh River: A Natural Marvel of Washington's Olympic Peninsula
Nestled within Washington State's Olympic Peninsula in the United States, lies the enchanting Hoh River, where the Olympic Mountain EarthWisdom Circle, “OMEC” was incepted in December of 2012. It is no wonder that OMEC was inspired in the Hoh – this pristine natural wonder captivates the hearts of all who encounter her beauty. This special place offers her visitors a weaving of the natural world and the cultural heritage of the local Native American tribe. The Hoh River's journey is closely linked to rich landscapes, including rugged mountains and lush ancient rainforests that have been shaped by volcanic activity over millions of years, depositing rich sediments called silt, which contributes to the fertility of the region. Renowned for its temperate rainforests, the Hoh boasts towering Sitka spruce, Western hemlock and Red cedar trees adorned with thick, emerald-green moss. This lush environment provides an ideal habitat for numerous varieties of fern species and berry infused evergreen shrubs who adorn the forest floor and together create wonderment and enchantment. Animal species that call the Hoh River Valley home, such as the gentle black bear, Roosevelt elk, and the rarely seen apex predator, mountain lion, also known as cougar, are a testament to the intricate interplay of life within it. OMEC’s founder, Llyn Roberts highlights many of these nature beings in the book Speaking with Nature written when Llyn lived by the Hoh River.  I have visited and guided journeyers to this part of the Olympic Peninsula many times, feeling the mystery of it inviting me back again and again to play, muse and heal. It makes sense that the Hoh River Valley holds profound cultural and spiritual connection for the Hoh tribe, who believe that the river is inhabited by powerful spirits. The people of the Hoh tribe have long maintained a close connection with the river, viewing it as a life-giving force, and central to their fishing traditions. Salmon plays a crucial role in their diet and ceremonies, which are intricately tied to the river's rhythms, and help them maintain a harmonious relationship with their ancestral land. OMEC’s 11th anniversary is a fitting time to honor the Hoh River Valley and the Hoh tribe. The Hoh River is a remarkable and interconnected natural treasure that embodies magic and sacredness. Her lush rainforests, pristine waters, and rich biodiversity make it a living testament to the wonders of the natural world. The deep connection between the Hoh Tribe and the river, as well as the incredible plant and animal species that call it home, highlight the importance of preserving and cherishing this magnificent ecosystem for generations to come. From my heart to yours, Lori Ferry' OMEC Board Member 
Dear Friends, Here we are on the cusp of another transition. It’s the liminal time between the seasons of autumn and winter here in the northeast of the United States. It is sometimes hard to comprehend that our friends in the southern hemisphere are preparing to leave spring and enter summer. Although the official astronomical winter does not start until December 21st, in a few weeks, climatological winter sets in here with the end of November and beginning of December. By the time this reaches you the Catskill High Peaks of New York, will more than likely have seen its first snow. Meanwhile, below the equator, the onset of summer is driving growth. Frosty mornings have set in, and I can feel the change out in nature, particularly its slowing rhythms and changing tempos. The woolly bear caterpillars are blacker than brown, and the squirrels have built their dreys high in the trees this year. According to local folklore, these are portents of a robust winter. It does not matter if you believe in that or not, it’s fun to think about. This is the time of year when I really start to look inward. Reflecting over the past year as winter rolls in, I ask myself some questions. Have I honored the commitments that I have made to others? Are there milestones that I set for myself that I did not quite meet? Have I leaned into the practices that have been gifted to me and have I learned from them? Did I respond in an authentic way to what the Universe was presenting to me? Did I extend care and compassion as I made this circuit around the sun? The answers may be yes, no, maybe, or I don’t know. In some way it is not the answers that matter, it is that I can ask the questions and have them become fuel for next year’s growth. Most importantly, this is the time of year where I give thanks. It’s not about the foods and gifts we may indulge during holiday season. As much as I enjoy those, they fail to capture what I give thanks for. I give thanks to the people I have met and connected with this year in whatever way that was. I give thanks to my family, friends, those close to me, and those not close to me as well, for whatever they have brought to the path. I give thanks to those I have perceived as adversaries for mirroring my own confusion back to me. I honor our Native American peoples here in North America. I give thanks to the indigenous lands I live upon, for nourishing me. I give thanks to Pacha Mama, Mother Earth, Mother Time, Mother Universe, for holding me. In the northern hemisphere the onset of winter begins the season of hibernation, the time for deep dreaming and musing. Fewer daylight hours and colder temperatures bring us not just inside but to our hearth. As we draw closer to Grandfather Fire for warmth and light, let’s not forget that there is a deep mystery in this dark half of the year. Deep in the soil of our psyche the ground for the next turning is preparing, incubating, churning, and assimilating. I look forward to what the return of the sun will bring. From my heart to yours, Christopher T. Franza, OMEC/Board of Directors  Dear Friend, We share with you here some moving art and writing from the 6-week virtual fall gathering of the nature-inspired writing program, Remembering Our Place in the Sacred Circle of Life. Participants came together from New York, Georgia, Colorado, Oregon, and California. Of the many gifts from these gatherings, what seemed to surface time and again was the realization that time spent in the natural world was good for us! These quiet precious moments with trees, parks, moss, boulders, spiders, and much more, often revealed important messages, creative inspiration, and healing. Enjoy the inspired art and writings. From my heart to yours, Christina Burress Board Member, OMEC  When I discovered that the artist who created those beautiful patterns on the maple leaves was a tar fungus, I tried speaking with it. Here is what Tar Fungus told me: Your enlargements bring people face to face with the Fungal Presence. We are here and should no longer be ignored. The more you know about us, the greater your chances of survival. We have ready technology to solve many of humankind’s difficulties. If scientists will work directly and collaboratively with us, giving us intention and purpose while engaging their human will, we can get to work quickly to avoid catastrophe. There is so much in this short passage that speaks to the potential of interspecies collaboration. As humans, our gifts are free will and the ability to hold a vision. If only we could learn to give intention and purpose to our Nature Elders! P.C.Turczyn "The Fungal Presence," 2'H x 3'W, Gouache, printing ink and composition gold leaf on Japanese mulberry paper, 2023 All Are Welcome by Linda S. The morning ritual begins As I fill the empty bird feeder once again, Saying hello to the herbs still growing in a nearby container. The sunflowers already smiling with their faces lifted to the light. I make sure to cast handfuls of sunflower seeds for grey squirrel Who will come down from the oak tree as soon as the coast is clear. And from my kitchen window, I watch the magic unfold As these nature beings come to the table I have prepared for them A gift of gratitude for their presence As they remind me that life is an ongoing banquet And all are welcome. Togethering: We are... by Stuart Garber Breath of Life singing through me, I tune my Self to You. Heart, lungs billowing with the fullness that You bring. Being with You in this way, there is no place You are not. I see and feel You everywhere. The boundary between what’s inside me… “here”… and all else that's here with me softens and blurs as I breathe this breath with You. We are the breeze. We are the ocean’s flow. We are the warmth of sunlight. We are the nourishing earth. Togethering. As Humans, We Listen by Victoria Derr Valencia If fire could speak It would tell us stories of strength Of communities created Hearts gathered Prayers petitioned Worries burned away If water could speak It would be light laughter Like the gentle caress of a river's bend Sometimes a roar Like the ocean at high tide against a cliff side If air could speak It would do so in a low whisper Telling us stories traveled far Across landscape carved by time If earth could speak It would tell stories of our ancestors The ones whose bodies Returned to the central heartbeat As humans, we listen For the sacred wisdom found In the multiple expressions of Our elemental kin In the multiple expressions of Our own divine radiance within  “Whirling” paper collage by Victoria Derr Valencia Old Man Acorn’s Tale by Jennifer Templeton Whispered wind, Weaves his tale Laughing dappled light. Here I breathe. Held, seen, & heard Familiar his story & song of the bird Lulled in comfort My cosmic hammock I sway Deeply rooted ancestor long standing bold Though so quiet His story always told. Voices in chorus, loud in my bones, chanting unseen This Earth is not my home. My veins starry paths, A muscled underwater galaxy, Neural brilliant sparks Brightening the mystery Low chuckle ripples, Radiant gurgle of sap… Know the me sister, you’ve always seen. & I sing the you. you’ve always been. Few find truth That we are, and will be again. Celebrate this That you know. Smile your seeds to and fro. Trust the truth Others traverse Mostly blind Walk your path Of no other kind Listen deeply now my dear. Shine without worry & I will always sing. My tale never ends, & Acorn always grows to sway new friends.  by Jennifer Templeton
Dear Friend, In January 2020, an article in the American daily newspaper, the Washington Post, reported that scientists had found the oldest known material on planet Earth — a meteoric rock containing “microscopic grains of dead stars” — 7 billion years old, about half as old as the universe. Of the many mysteries in the deep layers of our planet, rocks are some of the oldest. They tell a story, etched in their formation and composition, a chronological timeline, and in some cases, the preservation of ancient materials and fossils give geologists clues to form a story of the past. One of the most curious geological gemstones I’ve come across is the enhydro agate. Formed in volcanic activity, the agate is part of the chalcedony stone family. At first glance, it appears solid, cloudy, of a variety of colors, and semi-translucent. Its name, enhydro, Greek for water, reveals its secret. Within the agate is ancient water, 70,000 + years old, trapped by the natural mineral buildup and formation of layers around pockets, or inclusions, of air and water. When shaken, you can hear it sloshing inside. The new water bottle? Perhaps, not. Possible mineral impurities in the water make drinking ill-advised. The rare enhydro agates can be found on the Oregon coast, a testament to the Pacific Northwest’s fascinating geological and volcanic history. I am no geologist, but to me, the diversity of mineral formations — from enhydro agate to sparkling amethyst, moonstone, granite, obsidian, mica, and quartz — is evidence the Earth is capable of magic, with the existence of life being one of those great magical curiosities. Creation stories from around the world show the ways ancient people have made sense of existence. According to Maya cosmology, humanity was born from two deities, B’itol K’ajolom the Maker, and Tz’aqol Alom the Creator. The late Maya priest, Carlos Barrios, describes this in his book, The Book of Destiny, Unlocking the Secrets of the Ancient Mayans and the Prophecy of 2012. In a time of humanity’s greatest need, four divine beings named B’alamed’ came to Earth from the stars, bringing knowledge to restore peace and balance to the planet. As a lover of stories, I like to think that science and mythology can coexist in the hearts of humanity. Perhaps the history of our Earth is as multifaceted and complex as we are. One thing is certain, the Earth’s story is our story. As many indigenous cultures have reminded us, we are not separate. When I ask the question where are we from and where are we going? I feel the answer in my bones, the blessing it is to call this Earth, this rock — sparkling, water-filled, and sprinkled with stardust — home. Pictured: enhydro agate, moonstone, aragonite From my heart to yours, Sayre Herrick OMEC Board Member   Dear Friend, The seasons seem to flow one into the other in an organic and flexible way when you start watching the natural world up close. The changes are not as stark or clearly defined as the Gregorian calendar would lead one to believe. Climatological dating would have autumn starting on September 1st and astronomical dating would see its start around the 21st here in the northeastern United States. Yet, here I am camped out on the shore of a pond in the Catskills in mid-August and autumn has already begun to show itself. The mornings and evenings are cool, leaves are starting to change their colors, and animals are busily gathering their stores for the colder months ahead. White tail bucks are growing out their antlers and our local walnut trees have started to drop their nuts. Autumn has always been the season that I most resonate with. The other seasons have their allure, of course, like the mass greening in spring with its abundant and accelerated growth, the high heat of summer that ripens all we harvest, and the deep cold of winter with its slowed pace and introspective texture, but autumn holds more for me. Something deeply enlivening happens and my experience becomes crisper because my senses reach farther out. It is the time of year when I feel most at home in myself. Although having a raging bonfire on a cool evening under a clear star-studded sky is one of my favorite things to do, I have found that fire is only a part of this season. I’ve also discovered fire’s elemental compliment and associations. When I energetically align myself to the season of summer, I feel the direction of south, the element of fire, the mid-day sun, the full moon, and aspects of strength and vigor. When autumn starts to take hold, the shift is to the direction west, the element of water, the setting sun, the waning moon, and aspects of culmination and completion. Water is what strikes me most strongly as I shape-shift with this flowing narrative of the natural world. Lakes, rivers, ponds, streams, and reservoirs are abundant in the Catskills. Even in drought years there is water here. As I grow into this natural exchange, I become aware of how water affects and embraces me. Walking in the forest in a cold rain becomes a cleansing for the body as well as the soul. Gazing out over the broad expanse of a still lake centers me and puts me in touch with the workability of my life. Paddling along quiet rivers reminds me that I am supported. Feeling the cool damp dew on my bare feet shows me that above all else, water connects us all. The water that I drink, just like the air I breath, has passed through innumerable beings. Water makes up most of our planet as well as most of our bodies and we all share it. Water is a precious gift that supports the life of the entire natural world. I invite you to look at how, and in what ways water encourages you to be. As you move through your day ask yourself where water touches your life at a deeper level. When you drink, be reminded of the origins of what you imbibe. When you wash, be mindful of what you are returning to the watershed. When you encounter water, see it for the sacred being that it truly is. From my Heart to Yours, Christopher T. Franza OMEC/Board of Directors 
Dear Friend, For the July OMEC Inspirational Essay, I'd like to share with you an excerpt from my (Jonathan Hammond) forthcoming book: Re-Wilding: A Shaman / Witch’s Guide Our mythos, our truest and most purposeful story, our organic wildness, will reveal itself through our attunement with Nature, and if we merge our minds with the underlying energy of Nature held within a seed, we can start to identify a similar guiding intentionality within us that has always been there, and that if followed, will reveal the story that the Earth wants us to tell. A cornerstone magical practice of the shaman is called shapeshifting. Shapeshifting is a simple imaginative process in which we intuitively and empathically assume the form of a person or object to receive its influence or its power. When we shapeshift into something, we create a deep psychic identification with another being that awakens within us our own “version” of that being’s genius. Shapeshifting is a powerful practice, and we are doing it all the time, because whenever we manifest something (i.e., create magic), we are making a deliberate self-identification with the very thing that we create. If you want to move to Hawaii, you become the person who would do just that, if you want to attract love you become love, if you want to stop smoking you become smoke-free, and if you want to re-wild yourself you become Nature to find how Nature stirs within you. So, in your mind’s eye, picture a seed that has just been planted, and project onto it a human psychology. Imagine this seed is quite a bit like you, it approaches life in much the same way as you do, it has likes and dislikes, fears, desires, and dreams. Empathize with the seed, merge your mind with its form and energy, imagine the inner life of this being as the inward workings of its outward story. When a seed is planted in the ground, its first action is to split open and send roots into the earth. It doesn’t reach outward to find its identity, it grounds into its inherent belongingness, and assumes an identity of absolute perfection by being just as it is, from the get-go, the seed knows that this is its world. Underneath and surrounding the seed is a vast community of support and nourishment, an intricate web of life that collectively supports and feeds the seed to become what it is meant to become and to fulfill its role as a vital and life-giving part of the whole. Within the seed is an evolutionary programming that beckons it toward life and to all that is life-affirming. Through the seed’s felt sense, it makes choices in every given moment and circumstance that move it toward its highest potential. There is a single pointed directionality within the seed to unceasingly create itself beyond its current form. Whatever the circumstance, whether a beautiful summer day or an encounter with a tsunami, thunderstorm, or predator, the seed will do its best to find safety, to avoid danger, and to take from the earth what it needs to blossom and to thrive. The seed’s journey into flowering is fueled by a robust self-esteem. The seed/plant denies itself nothing, it gets its needs met however it can, it does not apologize for its existence, it has no understanding of self-sabotage or martyrdom, it will compete with others when appropriate, it maintains its boundaries and defenses, and it is singularly uninterested in anything that is not directly in service to it. This is not an inflated self-esteem; it is a self-esteem necessary to hold the seed/plant’s importance as a precious and indispensable being whose existence benefits the entire universe. The seed/plant’s need for sunlight is a symbol of its yearning to fulfill its spiritual purpose. The sun’s light as its food reveals the importance of its sacred objective to give its gifts to serve all of life: food, oxygen, energy, fire, sources of water, housing, shade, and beauty. Through living the hidden story that its instinctual nature dictates, the seed/plant is alive and real, it gives of its gifts, and it will die, decay, and become mulch for further life. By shapeshifting into the seed/plant (and I invite you to do this practice on your own) you discover that you belong on this planet exactly as you are, that you have an embedded directional programming within you that can be felt, that you are to always advocate for yourself and to never betray yourself or deny your needs, that in the face of difficulty you need only do your best, that you should be unabashedly obdurate in your desire to express your true essence from which your gifts will emerge, that your spiritual purpose is in the pursuance of anything that is life-affirming, and that when appropriate, you will let yourself “die” (i.e. develop into something new) to continue to serve the life-force. From my heart to yours. For the Earth, Jonathan Hammond OMEC Board-At-Large  |
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