Keeping My Soul Alive

What brings me joy? This is something you have to know and observe for yourself, in yourself!

But I can share what works for me.

When I was sick recently, my energy so low and depleted, I only did things that brought my vibration higher. This was like an experiment the universe was playing with me. I couldn't do otherwise, or else I would feel so bad, and low, and depleted.

So I read fairytales in bed.

And I formed a small garden by hand, placing stones and terrace ways like a child in the sandbox. I want all creatures to come and love my garden.

I parked cars like a mime in silence the evening before. Chi Gung and a flourish without speaking made me feel so much better.

And I blogged my time, walking in reflection and contemplation, and then sharing my inner self.

http://michaelsunshinegarden.blogspot.com/2014/04/im-so-sick-right-now.html

The truth was, I was crawling on my knees part of the time that evening, I was so delirious with infection.

But most of all, I turned inward, and did only those things that brought me Life.  Speaking little, tending my inner flame...

Here's a song this morning my friend is singing:

http://soundcloud.com/digitalbard/spirit-wind-at-possum-splendor?utm_source=soundcloud&utm_campaign=mshare&utm_medium=email&utm_content=http://soundcloud.com/digitalbard/spirit-wind-at-possum-splendor

Remember the inner flame, restfulness, and the yin. There is a sweetness there… In the honey pot of the Dantien. Sometimes things must be tended gently, sweetly, and with care.

What leaves you feeling full with sweetness and life?

Remember your gentle, inner flame...

"What have we to guide us,

Under these dark leaves?
A flame we keep,
Here in our hands...

Waking to Chickens

I wake up in the morning and feed the chickens. 

It's so unexpected, how much I love this task. To be caretaker for a whole bevy of little conscious animals… I thrum  to this responsibility, just like years before when I watched horses for a neighbor friend, unexpectedly loving the stewardship in a way tapped a power in me deeply content and wonderful.

Yesterday, I spent time in the vineyard...

My vintner friend is 58. We toke, and then go down to dig holes. In the course of the day, I am wounded, bleed, see You, Blacksnake, look out across the mountains many times, speculate on life, and to dig many, many holes, each satisfying fall of the axe blade or mattick reminding me of the strength and power of my being. And we plant seven plants in the steep, well worked hill where he has chosen to make his Way.

"This is for you," he says of his seven trellised rows of Appalachian wine grape plantings. "It's the best I can do." 

What he means is that he expects the grapes to live longer than he will, and the Vineyard to continue beyond his own lifetime. We sip grappa during the times we break to sup. It is illegal to manufacture, apparently, in the network of legality and enforcement we currently find ourselves in. In Italy with my parents years ago, I remember sharing grappa with farmers who ran restaurants out of their kitchens. 

But none had a bouquet like this.

He and I speculate on what would be truly valuable should the economy shift suddenly, or fall apart into disintegration. I look at his water systems, off grid power, independence, and resolve, and wonder if the powers that be truly tremble at this sort of autonomy. All things, I believe, have the instinct for survival; and threats perceived, or fears imagined or real, cause responses at times violent, wild, and unexpected. So it is with nations, corporations, people, families, – and perhaps even planet herself. We shall see.

If I were to raise a flag, I would raise the earth flag. Below that, perhaps, would be our nation's banner.

And above Earth flag, perhaps, would be the banner of my personal religion…Kosmos, the Zen "O", the yin yang of swirling duality, the spiral, smile, the heart. The consciousness that I choose to perceive as infusing all things. 

And truly, I am glad we humans are connected now through the inter-web – the mind and voice with which we can all speak so quickly with one another.

May we be called not lost, but home, here on this planet, amongst ourselves and our kin, moving toward mystery, with a power infused from God-universe from the beginnings of time.

An Army of River Keepers

There is apparently an ARMY of river-keepers; Druids of the natural world enabled by the science of the State to monitor and report on stream quality... watchful eyes and concerned minds working to honor the Health of Gaia, network volunteers, and care for our waterways.

I am learning this in the Aquatic Ecology course I'm in...
/2014/04/aquatic-ecology-first-day.html

Solitude versus Silence

The Garden of My Silence I carry with me always, as a vessel of water, undisturbed, and resonating with all darkness. 

Sick as I am, I spend my day in recovery turning inward. What I find the energy to do is what I bodily discern nourishes me. Lying in bed, clearing the clutter of books off my shelves so that I can see just an open space - beautiful. Walking gently into the light, and then back to my room again. I practice flow arts: spin stick, and the night before do performance parking as a mime while I still had to work. at the festival; then find myself blogging– the observation and reflection on my surroundings and on being so soothing. All next day I read fairytales; practice Chi Gung – silence, flow, and ancient fantasy stories are my friends. I cry reading The Little Prince. When I wake I am utterly devoid of the need for the girlfriend I said goodbye to weeks ago. I am happy to be underneath this layer of drama. 

Reflecting now on these changes, I wonder how I could have forgotten to be silent – not only be able to be in solitude, but to be silent. 

For solitude and silence are distinct things. 

I believed I had mastered them both by simply being able to be alone, and content. 

But always active, always working on some golden project in my solitude, is not the same as taking the nourishment that comes from the gentle, silent things. 

And to be in silence around people, as well – this too I had forgotten. Always active, always giving of my attention, presence, and life – giving too much –

Forgetting that silence, and the space it affords, both in solitude and around other people, is healing.

The Garden of my Silence I carry with me always as a vessel of water, undisturbed, and resonating with all darkness. 

Easter Island – The Slow Injury of Cultural Pride

The whole Earth is my garden, as well. Green and blue, product of life and provider of all life. 

At Easter Island, according to A Green History of the World, a population of 7000 at peace with the environs evolved great rituals of statuary art that stripped their island bare and reduced their people to squalor. 

You see, they needed trees to roll the stones along, and vying between themselves to be the clan with the greatest stone monuments at the greatest centers of established power, they cut trees upon trees in tribute to this most crowning achievement of their highest cultural song.

Death of the environment which made their culture possible meant the death of their culture. 1200 years of well balanced chickens and sweet potatoes; a culminating roar of micro-empire in stone; and then dissolution from deforestation through folly.

And to wonder when the irreversible limit was reached… Was it when one tree was left standing? A hundred? 

Or was it when their cycle of greatness became so embedded and intractably compulsive within the gestalt of their cultural mind that the pendulum of downfall shifted fatally into the hemisphere of night? 

Perhaps it was failure of the imagination. What more could a culture do, one so gloriously entranced with the erection of the stone Gods? Perhaps it was more shaming to these human beings to cease and desist this most holy form of sport and expression than it was to watch their society dissolve and die. More difficult to shift from within their pride of aggrandizement than to slowly wither: the slow, long injury that over hundreds upon hundreds of years cut more deeply than any One's two eyes could ever see. 

– Michael Rain

The Spirit Garden

I'm so sick right now. Parking cars at an art performance event. I am so happy. Silently flowing energy – alive with light and color! My birthday was wonderful. Dusk falls over the mountains. 

Why is this "My Garden," too?

So many people here, all to see what it means to be One of the Humans. To see what we can do. A creative edge, celebrating and playing with the Inner and Outer truth. 

Earlier, the puppet creature came. Many legs, much turning inside and outside - viscera or poppies or bewildered faces  birthing, yes?

This is the garden of the species, for the spirit, as we stand on Earth. What wondrous blossoms we can make as the Animals we are.