Sovereign Yew

“Till the wind shake a thousand whispers from the yew” – T.S. Eliot

It’s been just over three years since the yew incident in Devon which forms the main part for this blog, I’ve only recently felt to write about it. Before now, I never really seriously thought to put it into the written word and now that I have, I’ve really struggled in writing about it and it’s testing me in many ways.

Days of starting and not getting anywhere, going off on tangents and realising that they’re not tangents and unable to cope with trying to get a very large map into a readable format.  There are layers of meanings within meanings and always there is a deeper level of understanding to drop into.  But how does one paint the whole universe? By realising that one cannot not paint the whole universe in the first stroke? At least not unless one trusts that in every word, in every space, in what is said, and not said, is like a hologram that contains the whole. And by just being content with the content so far… and realising that sometimes the perfection of writing is that it is imperfect, and unfinished.

That hasn’t made it easier to write and I know now after struggling with it for weeks, that I am going through a deep initiation and learning as I write this piece. As I sit now writing this bit, I have just experienced a small panic attack and an intense urge to get up and do something else, anything to distract myself. I become quite agitated and get adrenaline rushes and hot flushes. I don’t know whether this is just about writing this particular piece or writing in general. Probably the two are not separate. I can only manage to write a few words, and a sentence or two takes more than 30 minutes! I think it’s partly because of the difficulties in either talking or writing without using a linear cause and effect model. I must write a poem about the experience of trying to write this stuff 😀 Certainly it would help if I could develop more of a sense of humour about it all – probably a good time for some laughter yoga! In writing this piece, I can actually see myself playing out on the micro scale the macrocosm of my life habits – the distraction, the focus on the little details like spelling, the seeming inability to trust the process, the constant allowing of interference, lack of focus, distraction by shiny things… the list goes on …and I’m betting all that sounds very familiar to a lot of people.

I suspect that this is just the beginning, and that I will be writing about this and in general from now on.  One of the incredibly difficulties I find in writing is in trying to describe things from an holistic experience, rather than cause and effect, or storytelling in a linear fashion. I don’t know where to start and how to describe all the various directions my experience takes me in. This is because that even if not at the time, I now experience life as simultaneous potential (resonance) and not just in terms of  cause and effect and a single forward moving timeline.  I mostly always write from my direct experiences and will sometimes include additional material to help to explain or expand my findings. Sometimes this acts like validation for me. Also, I write in this style to keep it as pure as possible, I do not wish to translate it into ‘givens’ or create more dogmas from my findings. The point of experience or the sharing of it, is not control and knowledge – it’s not so one can say, ‘well this is the truth, and now I’m happy because I know the unknowable’.

Additionally, and interestingly, there are  two very important things I’ve discovered during this process. 1) coffee is a shamanic plant medicine and can be engaged with as such. 2)My internal guidance telling me that ‘little and often’ is incredible wisdom for me, and not only does it work, it reveals so much more, and importantly, un-writes old unhelpful stuff and writes new neural pathways that have implications throughout my life. 3)I’ve forgotten what number 3 was.

Here goes:    Continue reading

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Deadwood

Consciousness doesn’t leave you when you die. Consciousness cannot die. The physical form may cease to be as it is, yet even that is consciousness in another form, and it may change its form so dying is simply a rearrangement of consciousness, form-in-motion. In-form-motion. It is forming and unforming in every moment. Living in the physical is a choice in every moment: An “informed” choice. That we don’t see or know it this way is simply down to our beliefs. The dead wood is made of the same stuff as that which lives on it: consciousness. Consciousness is energy that is aware of itself. So how could the wood be dead? Only if we are unable to see what it is will it look either dead or alive. It is been eaten now by a bug, digested in the stomach… at what point does it become the bug?

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