from
the sea (5) – merging and menopause, water, part 2, by freda karpf
Mrs. Scattergood’s
thoughts were cycling round like the comets.
Was she on time? With this view,
it wasn’t a really long time since she made contact with Baubo but rather the
right time; even if she is not living the golden ratio, there are times that
everything seems to be in harmony and balance.
~
How can we move through the fresh cut
thyme garden and get on with the cooking?
It pulls you down to the level of smells and you have to savor this
thyme cloud. It works with thyme. But with tide, sometimes you have to live by
the wisdom of her friends’ grandmother.
“Half a mile from the ocean was close enough.” Or you become like the saltmarsh plants that
adapt to flooding and dry spells, to salt and sun. Wisdom is often remembered
in the aftermath of a storm.
~
The shoreline, the river’s edge, even the
bulwarks are the edges of the places we sometimes feel most alive; where one
can move to consciously become middle ground.
We are all a part of the earth story after all. You might feel that this felt connection is a long time in coming. But it also feels as if the arm of the spiral
has opened up. Your life and the
wildlife around you were nestling in its tightly wound spiral but you’ve been
let loose to look around and find each other.
No matter the age, your psyche is reaching with lime green tendrils into
the world. Something has opened up your
heart. Here you are, on her doorstep
with an invitation.
~
Miri's
words: “I am cada día con la lucha.”
Every day with the struggle...to manifest joy, to show up for the sun.
No longer fierce, striving to soften. Mrs.
Scattergood’s words in response: “I hope that you grow nasturtiums. If not nasturtiums, maybe fresh basil or
lantana, which has a lot of smiles in it.
If not any of those than maybe morning glories which manifest out of the
blue sky and return to there in the evening. If not those maybe another flower
that is a joy just because it is.”
~
Although the story goes that the golem is
born of clay, think mud. Next step is the infusion of spirit through the power
of the alphabet. Think, golem's alphabet.
The true nature of creating allies begins by recognizing the power of
water to infuse mud with life, wetlands with the action of the tides’ bellows
and the delicate balance of salt playing with the plants’ water uptake and the
wildlife in the marsh. The golem might
seem like it didn’t belong in this wetlands village but it does. It comes and
goes with the tides of want and need. It builds upon the higher ground and
comes to lower itself into the water when the sun threatens to dry it. One
letter means life, another means death. Too dry, too salty, too moist, too
muddy. Life holds onto the threads of
cordgrass as the water slowly withdraws. Life moves through the cycle of coming
and going. Baubo knows that some are
aware of it as much as they are a part of it. Grief might make you feel outside
of it. Your period might make you feel like you are in a time that is out of
time, swimming in a stream where golems and fish, birds and skies are part of
something going on while your focus is diffused by hormones and unmoored by the
inability to hold your focus.
~
The river’s stream has endless ways to
reflect and braid the sunlight.
~
This is M. M means menopause.
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