You are free.
Perhaps you’ve discovered you’ve been pruned into an unnatural shape. The gardener has gone home and now. It’s time to fill in the gaps.
That thing you’ve imagined missing? Your lover, happy family, riches or fame? Phantom limb syndrome. Relieved only by expanding into segments of you until now kept closely trimmed. To reveal inherent potential plants take in water and sunlight. Creative expression is our process of growth.
Such ideas could seem dangerous. Most of us, lined in small desks and orderly cubicles acquiesce for safety, security, status, friends. Our passions carefully channelled and skillfully dammed. The chimera of freedom passing our mind’s eye in daydreams of vacation.
Rows and hedges are a control fantasy, as perverted as any. Dominance is fear’s disciplined puppet. Control… a fool’s gold, a mere shadow-echo of Unity; the diet dollar store version of the real thing.
True control is mastery. A blooming garden in vast dust bowl of sand; the might to create and generate. Prowess in harmony.
Who will you be when you are unfurled?
Strange, possibly. Alive. Connected. Wise. Heartfelt. Yourself.
Declining are the orderly fields of identical rows — a single crop marking time along the highway.
You are being called to your purity. Now is the season for full bloom.
Nature’s path rarely draws straight lines. Her branches arch and curl in winding shapes. Unfolding beauty is ripe with awkward moments. Your metamorphosis expands beyond the old norm. Embrace becoming what was unknown.
Pride and certainty are hedge trimmers. To conform in the old halls of power you must keep yourself impaired. New growth past the contused cuts will hurt at first, and may seem like a loss of dominion. In purity and with laughter you will not care. There is new power emanating and she does not fear your chaos. Seeds germinate for new symmetry in the wild.
Listen to the earth pulse. She beats; her heart calls you home. We are not savage animals nor are we omniscient Gods. We are both, neither and something emerging.
Embrace freedom. Surrender to harmony. Ride your personal balance. The new order is too vast to be orchestrated from the outside. The time for sky-Gods and synthesized control wither into history. Budding is a fresh era of connection both above and below. A divinely orchestrated life production in which as our full, joyful unfettered selves we fit with breathtaking perfection into the whole. You are Jacob’s latter connecting Heaven and Earth. That pathway is inside you. Dare you take it now?
When a crop has fruited and been harvested the plants wither and die. Then it is time to till the soil; to provide air for new plants to breathe. That time is upon us and you are free to choose: die with the old, or vivify the new.
I recommend you do not resist the earth-dance. Receive your flow of her rhythm through invisible umbilical kinship. Let that which is natural and reverent inside of you call you home. Everything you are is meant to be.
You are Loved.