Everyday Co-Creativity » nature

An Opportunity for Seeing

annesailer — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 16:04:43 +0000

This year, August and September brought me the Gift of Many Feathers. At first, I found one or two here and there, mostly in the expected places (near the birdbath in my garden; near the pond in the park), but pretty quickly, the feathers started appearing in more unusual, incongruous spots (in my kitchen; in my car; in my pocket). For years, I’d heard people talk about finding feathers and what that means. For me, I just didn’t have a lot of feathers cross my path, so I paid little attention to those conversations. All of a sudden, there were just too many feathers flying into my awareness to ignore; I wanted meaning.

There are as many different takes on feather meaning as there are people, it seems, but the main categories seem to be:

spiritual evolution; ascension
connection with “God” or “the gods”
being on the “right track”
guardian angels are present
spirit has heard one’s prayers
lightness; freedom

To me, these explanations fall solely in the Spirit realm, overlooking Nature (which is ironic, given that a feather — a part of a bird — is so obviously a part of Nature). What message or meaning does a found feather communicate to us from Nature as well as from Spirit? In her book, Sacred Feathers, author Maril Crabtree eloquently fills in those blanks:

Throughout history, feathers have served as spiritual symbols for shamans and priests, as symbols of royalty for kings and chiefs, symbols of healing, or symbols of sacred power for cultures as far back as ancient Egyptian, Asian or Celtic eras. These cultures possessed abilities to communicate with nature in ways that have been overlooked or forgotten in our own time.

Yet feathers are more than history. For many, they are mystical signs, messages, or opportunities. They are scraps of synchronicity in the flowing patchwork of universal meanings. They appear in unlikely places as assurances of well-being, as a comforting sign of abundance in the universe, and as unmistakable messengers of hope and encouragement. Their ephemeral grace makes them the perfect emissaries of spiritual and emotional freedom…

We live in a holographic cosmos, where a piece of the whole reflects the entire whole. When a feather leaves its bird-home and falls to earth, it carries all of the energy of its former attachment to a living being. From a cosmic perspective, it also carries within it, as we carry within ourselves, the universal energy we call by many names, from “God” to “Spirit” to “divine life force.” Why not, then, receive the message that this feather falls into our lives to give us as a message directly from that life force?

Above all, feathers come to us as gifts. They come from the sky, from the sea, from trees and deep grasses, even from…enclosed spaces never inhabited by winged creatures. They come to us unexpectedly, but not without purpose. Their messages may be startling, soothing or sudden, but they are always an opportunity for seeing — for finding answers to questions we may not even have known we were asking.

Ah, yes. And in this passage is the Nature connection. The feathers that came into my awareness in August and September were “scraps of synchronicity, ” connected to “divine life force,” offering “an opportunity for seeing.” On this Earth, in this Nature’s realm, we have many opportunities for seeing, for recognizing, for being aware. And so often we do not see, we do not recognize, we are not aware. A feather is not a wisp of prayer or inspiration that flits across our perception; it is a tangible piece of this “holographic cosmos” — one laden with historical symbolism and meaning — that is extremely hard to ignore or overlook. So that is where Nature and Spirit converged this summer to deliver to me the opportunity to take notice, to pay attention, and to receive the kind of blessing that I can pick up and hold in my hand. I hear the message as, “In noticing and receiving this blessing, you are on the ‘right track’.” I am deeply grateful for this late-summer opportunity for seeing.

Sharing With Potato “Bugs”

annesailer — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 17:28:22 +0000

One image I didn’t include in my most recent “Welcome Home” post was a photo I snapped of a clan of mysterious potato “bugs” munching away on my fingerling potato plants. (I haven’t been able to discover what these “bugs” are, so I use the b-word loosely.) I didn’t omit this image because it was negative in any way; I wanted to save it to talk about sharing.

First off, I’m going to sit in amazement for a moment about how efficiently these little, brown, globby guys raised and fed their young on the potato leaves. Some leaves had six or seven of the young critters lined up in a perfectly parallel configuration, munching away. As they grew bigger, the “bugs” would take off on their own, searching for their own leaf to devour. (I think of it as the potato munchers’ manifest destiny.) Whether individually or in a group, they made fine, fast work of their meals, leaving few (if any) leaves on the potato plants.

I talked to the Deva of my garden and asked for information and direction here. Although I strive for my garden to be an inclusive — rather than an exclusive — one, I recognized that I wanted my family to have a turn eating from these potato plants, too! I think I expected the Deva to tell me to keep sharing, in the spirit of ultimate inclusivity, but instead I got the direction that it was time to tell the “bugs” to move along. Ahhhh, more boundaries. They’d simply had their share; now it was my family’s turn.

So, one afternoon during the heat wave (whoo, was I hot!), I put on the lightest pair of garden gloves I could find and gently removed those “bugs,” one at a time, from the potato leaves. One plant had been completely devoured and lay limp, brown, and rotting on the soil. The others, though, still had enough leaves and life to keep going. By that time, the bug clan had mostly moved on, leaving me only a handful to relocate. I think that even they knew their turn in the potato patch was over.

Yesterday, I went out to look at the remaining potato plants again, and the life force that I’d seen on “bug moving day” was obviously dwindling. So, after checking with Nature, I dug up the fingerling potatoes growing in the soil and moved the wilting greens to the compost pile. I can sum up the experience best with one word: “Wow.” I unearthed more than 20 potatoes — beautiful and begging to become dinner. By agreeing to share with the “bugs,” I assumed I’d have a weak and pitiful potato harvest, but I was completely wrong. There were even potatoes hanging out under the plant that the “bugs” had chewed to pieces before I moved them along.

Now, those potatoes are gone, devoured this time by my family. I tossed them in a bowl with olive oil, sea salt and rosemary and roasted them till done. The skins burst open with a flavor that I’ve never before tasted in a potato, and I realized that this is what fresh potatoes taste like. The culinary experience was life-changing. And I think that the flavor was sweeter and the texture more sumptuous because I’d chosen to include rather than exclude, share rather than battle over the potatoes. I sincerely hope that the leaves had a more powerful, balanced, and fulfilling flavor to those mysterious, potato-eating “bugs,” too.

Wasting Life, or Embracing Abundance?

annesailer — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 16:09:35 +0000

“Nature wastes life.”

Or, so claims Chris Anderson, WIRED magazine’s editor-in-chief, in the July 2009 issue’s article, “Waste is Good.” His overarching point is a valuable one: That we get so bogged down by scarcity thinking — by fearing that we won’t have “enough” and then holding on for dear life to what we do have — that we fail to realize, and take advantage of, the abundance that is actually all around us. The article’s tagline ends with the sentence, “It’s time to harness the power of abundance.”

On the idea of harnessing abundance, I couldn’t agree more! One of the lessons that my garden has taught me this growing season is that I am surrounded by abundance. One day, while sitting by one of my raised beds, grieving the seeds that didn’t germinate (due to the shade cast by my too-tall arbor vitae bushes), I felt a call to look at the plants that did germinate and grow. Paying attention to the germination failures — to the areas of scarcity in my garden — resulted in my disregard of the far-more-plentiful areas of abundance. In fact, for every one empty square in my raised beds, I had at least ten “volunteers” — surprise plants that came up from seeds in my compost or from last year’s plants going to seed in the soil. And, of the seeds that did germinate, I had so many extra plants that I gave away tomatoes, pole beans, bush beans and soybeans to anyone who would take them. With all this life generating around me, why would I spend even a moment regretting the plants that were scarce — even non-existent — in the garden? I shifted my perspective, and I now employ what Anderson calls “abundance thinking.”

However, I disagree with Anderson on his assertion that, “Nature wastes life.” He writes of the bluefin tuna that releases 10 million fertilized eggs, to have only 10 of those make it to adulthood. He raises the example of dandelion seeds that scatter in the wind — many will land and germinate and become new plants, yet most will die. He holds up these and other ways in which nature “wastes life,” encouraging us to become more like nature and “embrace waste.” It seems to me that characterizing these casting-a-wide-net natural processes as “waste” is, in fact, employing the very same scarcity thinking that Anderson is encouraging his readers to eschew. What if, instead, we think of these processes as “celebrating abundance,” or “embracing bounty?”

Little is, in fact, wasted in nature. Seeds that scatter and don’t germinate become food for birds; seedlings that die before maturity become food for worms and then composted food for another generation of seedlings; and I’m betting that bluefin tuna eggs that don’t hatch become food for another sea creature or fertilize oceanic vegetation. Shifting to humans (also very much a part of nature), our bodies generate billions of red blood cells (a single drop of blood alone contains millions of the little buggers). Yet, I doubt many would say that the human body “wastes” red blood cells — most people would instead revel in the glorious abundance of red blood cells that float around in our bodies. Similarly, the average human heart beats 100,000 times per day, yet I am not about to assert that my body “wastes” heartbeats. I am extremely grateful for every one of those abundant boom-booms in my bosom.

The idea of wasting is an inextricable part of scarcity thinking — wasting food that could go to starving children in Africa; wasting time on frivolity when it should be spent on industrious tasks; wasting money (that “doesn’t grow on trees, you know”) on luxiuries when it could be spent on life’s necessities. To effectively shift our thinking from what we don’t have to what we do have — to stop seeing what is scarce and start seeing what is abundant — we will be far better served by framing Nature’s processes as “embracing abundance” than “wasting life.” All those ungerminated seeds in my garden were hardly wasted; without them, I would not have had the opportunity to appreciate quite so deeply the bounty that surrounds me — both in and out of the garden.

Devic Group Action

annesailer — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 02:05:54 +0000

I am conferring with over 40 individual plant devas in planning my soil garden — and that’s just for the plants in the square-foot raised beds — so repeated communications are a bit daunting. This weekend, I spent some time conferring with nature in various and sundry situations, and a new planning tool has emerged.

I’ve already identified all the plant varieties and the seeds are on order (the Burpee ones have arrived!). The next step is connecting with all the plant devas to determine whether the seeds are to be sown directly into the garden or in flats and then transplanted later, and also to schedule when the seeds or transplants are to be planted in the garden. With individual devic action, it feels like it’ll be July before we’ve got this all planned out — yet alone planted. Enter a new idea (at least for me): devic group action.

I will open a working connection with the Deva of my garden and with the Devas of each of the over-40 plant species in the garden; I will request that the Devas speak with one, unified voice; I will ask that each Deva “come forward” when I am asking about that specific plant; and then I will ask my series of planting and timing questions. Now, I know that I will still be opening more than 40 Devic connections, but the idea of opening all the connections in one combined nature request seems far easier than opening-and-closing, opening-and-closing, opening-and-closing — and on and on. I’m hoping to start using this tool tomorrow afternoon. I’ll let you know how it goes!

In Praise of Friends and Drills

annesailer — Mon, 13 Apr 2009 19:36:46 +0000

Thanks to my good friend, Maria, my family, and all three of the power drills in our home, the Lindisfarne Valley Garden is now outfitted with NINE raised planting beds! My arms are a little sore (especially my drilling arm), and I am thrilled. I built one of the raised beds from recycled brick pavers (left over from a neighbor’s patio project), and we built the other eight using Trex engineered lumber. Now, here’s the marvelous part: I conferred with the Deva of my garden about what lumber to use and where to purchase the lumber. When I called the Deva-preferred lumberyard on Saturday morning, I joyfully discovered that Trex (the Deva-preferred lumber) was on sale at 50% off. Thank you, nature! I packed up my family and we hustled over to buy that 50%-off Trex. Thankfully, the lumberyard guys cut it into the three-foot and four-foot lengths I needed. Phew. The beds are gorgeous and awaiting soil and plantings. Up next is conferring with the Deva of Soil on how to fill those beautiful beds. Time to rest my drills and get some compost underneath my fingernails, I believe.

(P.S. Thank you, Maria…)

Zone 9

annesailer — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 04:28:19 +0000

Garden Chart -- Zone 9 (2009)

As promised, I’m starting to post my co-creative soil garden planning charts (only the square-foot, raised bed charts). Here’s Zone 9 (click on the image above to see a larger version, where you can actually read the names of the plants!). The planning process has been a wild ride. In the past, I’ve connected only with the Deva of the garden when working on what to plant and where. Suddenly, this year I read in the Garden Workbook that I’m supposed to connect with the Deva of each plant when selecting plant varieties. Talk about an increase in connecting-and-muscle-testing workload! After a while, I started to think of the connections as making phone calls to the Devas — open a connection; hi, how are you?; ask for information; thanks!; close the connection. Sometimes, if I forgot to ask something, I’d “call right back,” and say, “Oops! I forgot something!” I imagined the Deva was smiling, patient with my absent-mindedness. The fascinating thing is how I started to feel the connections opening and closing in a way I hadn’t before — right in the center mass of my body, somewhere between my gut and my heart. This is an amazing development in my bodily connection with nature. Thank you, nature, for lining up all those phone calls for me!

Anyway, I’ve ordered about $200 worth of seeds. The cost is far less that buying seedlings for this many plants, and my intention for the garden states that it will provide produce to feed my family (at least supplementally), and I expect we will save far more than this intial $200 investment over the course of the growing season.

I’ll post the remaining three charts in the next couple of days…

What We Might Be Planting on The Farm This Year…….

annesailer — Thu, 26 Mar 2009 00:14:11 +0000

Farm Wish List (courtesy of my son)

Here I sit, with my almost-nine-year-old son at my left, brainstorming what we might be planting “On The Farm” this year. Hmmmm. How exciting! The list of “wants” (so far) is:

corn
flax
barley
melon
watermelon
tomatoes
sunflowers
pumpkins
lamb’s ears
tulips
roses
potatoes
carrots
sugar snap peas
soybeans (edamame, for his sister — what a great big brother)

Of course, we’ll start with this list and then consult with Nature on what’s balanced to plant in The Farm (Zone 11, for those interested in my various zones…). After all, we might think growing flax (or sugar snap peas, or carrots) is a fine idea, but that might not be a crop that’s in the greatest good for our Farm this year. We’ve got to always remember that Nature is our equal partner in this gardening business. (And no, I say to may son, Nature is not The Boss…but, then again, neither are we…)