Sun (abundance)
Nomater what state of mind or emotional state you might be in, without a doubt, the sun rises and sets every day, in renewal. It may not be as bright as the day or week before, but she’s there for us, sometimes hidden. “Abundance” invites a bit of a boost, when the feeling is generally low, and you’re seeking soft reminders that you can access nurturing elements around you; these elements are boundless, reorienting, healing and energizing, beyond what you might be currently able to conceive of. Moments in the lusciousness of this park and garden act as reminders of reorienting cycles of the sun, the abundant life that is nurtured by her, cycles of death that lead to renewal, and non-human interventions that continue to rewild whether or not you’re in your feelings.
[[What is sometimes hidden? ->Thistletown]]
[[Abundance ->Oak tree]]
Goldenrod
Your light is shining bright through, and reveals tiny particles that make you feel seen, visible. You shine upon a swaying plant, and find that it’s meeting you where you’re at, bright, yellow, not too rigid. You realize that you have no boundary, but you don’t feel scared, because you know exactly where, and how to cast your light. The flower sways, you sway -- you sway, the flower follows your gestures. None of this feels forced. There is a sweetness, a warmth, and it settles your fragility.
You illuminate a red brick rectilinear building, and while you have been bringing light to things for millenia, these lines have been around for at least a century. They are a bit rough to the touch, a bit posh for your style, and there’s a haunting underlying narrative there. It's helpful to think of history as non-linear; and to think of that nonlinearity as cycles of rituals. And to feel grounded by the idea that these rituals were performed by generations upon generations before us. On the surface, it looks like an abandoned classical building, with the architectural trims, akin to governmental buildings. But, what if it were once a palace of sunshine, much softer than its trims, allowing our bodies to absorb light and heal?
[[Hmm that's nice but this building is haunted ->passage5]]
[[You venture to absorb some light ->Goldenrod]]
<img src="https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/52212735134_3ca7b6926b_k.jpg" width="500" height="300">
Sometimes it's easy to forget that you will continue to shine. You experience a small morsel of hope in the future and you run to prepare for it. You frantically encircle a tree trunk, its textures more intricate than your dreams. You draw imaginary lines around its future circumference, contemplating where to settle. You sense the tree’s past age, it's future age, that it is a witness to many organisms, human interventions, colonization, death, plague, joy. Within yours and several other lifetimes, it's there, witnessing. With this in mind, the concept of a burial takes on new meaning. It's both cyclical, visionary, hopeful, reverent, preparatory and regenerative. You dig and dig and dig, until the soil feels cold and damp. There, you take in grounding and nurturing smell.
[[You see a worm ->Compost]]
[[You go back to the light ->Goldenrod]]
Let’s be real, it probably is. But those hauntings don’t have to be bad, per se. They can be indications of what came before, and they can provide wisdom and power. They can also remind us not to fall into a trap, and deep seeded sedation. Forgetfulness breeds cycles of colonization, and dilution of the past will continue to haunt us whether we like it or not.
You decide to let the building disintegrate into rubble, but this takes time. Thinking through death as a necessary part of healthy cyles, you seek other forms of transformation.
[[You become compost ->Compost]]
[[You just need a little trim ->Pruning]]
You ignore the rubble that still needs to be repurposed, and you let yourself become compost. There is a gentleness from which you become a nurturing source. Deep in the dark, cool and fragrant soil you encounter a worm. It squiggles and is charming in a way. The worm slowly eats at you. It tickles a little, and you delight at the worm's texture and let yourself sleep for a while.
[[Back to the palace of sunshine ->Thistletown]]
You come across this beautiful lush green tree that’s endured the cold months. It smells intoxicating, and your rays try to reach all the dark crevices and sometimes cannot shine through. You observed the tree’s cycles of growth over time, its pace, moods, and relationship to other organisms. Based on this clear direction you take your time to trace a branch’s path. You observe its nodes, and its story before trimming at precise points. Your intuitive future projection gives you confidence because you know who you are at this moment.