Nurturing the Sanctity of Native Flora: A Path to Harmonious Coexistence with Plants That Surround Us.
In the stillness of the morning, before the sun has fully risen, I stand barefoot on the dew-covered grass and breathe in the sweet, earthy scent of the moist grass below my feet.
In the ocean of becoming. All life rises together. Falls together. Not one without the other. Not other without the one.
What stories are inside you mama? What stories are you pregnant with? What stories live and breathe inside of you? What stories are you caught inside of? What stories are you navigating?
Do not fight life Fight with all that is within you, that is against Life. Abuse, cruelty, injustices, homelessness, war, ignorance.
It began with a story. It always does, doesn’t it? Sometimes a Story walks into a Room. Sometimes you have to hunt for the Wolf with a bloated belly full of stories and cut open to get to the marrow of Story.
How to write about such a thing as a master plant intelligence, consciousness.
You know the story. The foundation cracks open. The first time was sudden. Shocking perhaps. A maiden, daughter of a goddess, descends to the underworld. To the land of the shades.
In the pitch of my wintering
My earth yearns
For the push and burn
Of your green unfurl
Through my velvet dark
The Burren From a craggy outcrop mesmerised byshadows of empty cloudsscurrying to the Atlanticreflection shimmering briefly over karst landscapethey return bountifulladen down with rain thatdyes flagstones black untilsun warms to grey again Black Head Majesticpounding wavesgnawing the coastwith thunderous abandonSeagulls…