Morning with the Meadow

So, I went to be with the meadow this morning.

To have a chat, commune with the knowledge of all the lives weaved and woven together there.

Laying down in the grass

I tried to listen inwards

to the voices of the bacteria

rumbling in my gut, the waters

of the world bubbling in my cells,

transforming it all to images and

languages emerging electrically

in the synapses of my mind

to grow into the question

I most want to ask:

"How can we move ahead, away

from the binary, patriarchal, rationalist

demonizing and othering

of the uncontrollable, the unknown,

into a new relation, where we can

embrace it and learn more

sustainable ways to dance with it?"

The meadow let out a weary sigh

obviously bored by my question.

I tried to focus, to breathe deeper.

"How can we, humans, re-wild ourselves?"

I asked, adding, "How can we approach

a de-colonization of the mind, body and soul?"

"OMG!" exclaimed the meadow. "How about

letting go of the concept of outcome?! Isn't that

what you're constantly talking about? How about

letting go, loosen up?"

I humbly apologized, stroking the grass

lovingly, as I let myself sink deeper

into the moment, and allow the smells

of soil, of blooming trees, of grass and funghi

and unfolding leaves to seep in

through every pore of my being, creating

a wild and beautiful chorus singing through

my bones and resonating in my skull,

vibrations morphing into language, into

what I hope the meadow will accept

as what could be their words

if they ever had to reduce themselves to words.

"We want to honour our next of kin,

the poet Rilke, with a quote in his words," they said,

"If we surrendered to earth´s intelligence,

we could rise up rooted, like trees."

Singing they continued :

"This is how it could be

you could get rooted

learn to listen to the languages

of the worms, spend inordinate amounts of time

composting, think like a mycelium in all directions"

(The voices kept shifting, foreground, background,

weaving in and out of eachother, creating

the most intricate patterns of dissonance and resonance

that made it really hard to take notes)

"Wait for what emerges, rather than push for results,

Surrender to the weather, the seasons, the multitudinous

cycles guiding life, being life in all dimensions

of creating, creation,

take the shapes that are shifting through you as you go,

yelled a yellow butterfly, fluttering by.

Draw the waters of the earth

up into your veins, and share your tears back.

Let your self, your soul, ripen and allow

the seeds of your creation to be surrendered to the wind,

devoured by birds and beast, spread

all around and afar as your gifts back

to the community of the meadow to which

you belong, and always have."

Ages later, or seconds, I don't know,

I went back to join my small self,

hopefully just for a short spell,

I need to get back to the meadow more often

to listen to the songs

it is singing

and learn to transform,

to translate them

into seeds that can spread and grow

(Thanks to Nora Bateson for her inspiring use of the meadow as a metaphor)