Fire on the earth. Seeds in the garden. Rain from the sky. I sit. I breathe. I dream. Big trees, dancing over many years – too slow to really see, without living oneself as they do.
Wisdom they hold for us; pillars and globe of teachings: living in clarity. Waking, walking, body talking, ways wending which the unholy may never know. I meandering like a flash, like cadent lucid-stream, criss-crossing tracks and making my own. Freshness.
Shaping moods for kindling lucid-dream. All is dreaming wildness at heart. Finding places, seeing singing smiling faces, hearing voices across the wind. Listening to active curiosities. Knowing oneself and others, flowers opening; opening the heart, each new day.
Learning things. Writing things. Thinking about art – not as verbal discourse – drear! – but the growth of clarity, ripening, vastening, birthing the spirit-butterfly artist’s mind, in the Art Mind – the Soul. Womb cocoon unravished by time; the mother cant, the infinite rhyme I travel poetry over each new clime.
Resonance with Spirit and Nature. Deepening life. Making bridges of love and wisdom and creative gifting. A true use of words – language – will gift you and set you free. Creating Dreaming culture. Alive.
I follow the path of my soul, like a bubble rising in water, destined to a wider sky. Or as a fish swimming, its nature to swim, nature swimming as a fish… and so are we, nature being human. All things find their way through the Story, this conversation of time and place.
Are we listening – to time? to place? and to that nexus of power where they meet in presence.
This work is the work of awareness. The spark that forms all in alignment with the great work – Universal Magic, to which Nature ever returns to, like a salmon or a bubble.
Reaching, weaving dreams and reality – whoever said the real is all there is never knew the power of imagination. So we step and do not step at the same time. We think and do not think. We sing and the silence of the universal stirs our voice into a powerful current.
One facet of the mystery, glowing renewal of the real; words anchoring suchness. Feeding Dreaming culture.
There is peace in the gaze between equals; there is balance and harmony and naturalness. From the beginning – the original Dreaming – we are all equals.
By Fox of the Oaks