My roses and the Gardener
Somewhere on my blog is a post about the morning I woke up to a cascade of sunlight onto my rug (it had been heavily overcast, cold, and endlessly rainy) and a very moving prayer chanted by my roses. I can't find it, and a friend wants to see the prayer as I wrote it up. So here goes again:
I awoke one morning in what I think was mid-Winter of 2011 to find a cascade of gorgeous golden sunlight on the rug next to my bed. It had been extremely cold, heavily overcast, and raining or snowing all Winter, and this flood of molten gold warmed the soul as nothing else could. And then I sensed it: mental "voices" raised in a hymn of praise and gratitude, probably picked up due to interactions of my electromagnetic field and those of the plants in question. My roses were lifting their "voices" in prayer and love to the Gardener. It went approximately like this:
For the Gardener brings the rain,
And the Gardener brings the Sun.
The Gardener brings the food,
And shades us from the worst of the heat.
For the Gardener brings the warmth in the midst of Winter.
For the Gardener is so kind, the Gardener cares for us.
For the Gardener loves us.
All praise the Gardener!
(That last "praise" also sort of suggested "for we love the Gardener.")
The "Gardener" in that hymn of praise, that chant of love, didn't mean me. It meant the Gardener. I'm just a Gardener, one of the Gardener's countless two-legged agents.
If the roses had had hands, they'd have lifted them to the sky as they "sang." Their praise-song and hymn wasn't audible, but rather in a mode that may have been electromagnetic, and I may have sensed it via a highly evolved version of the lateral-line electromagnetic sensing organ found in many fish, and present in the ancestors of all terrestrial vertebrates, including our most ancient ancestors that lived on land. There was no voice to hear in the ordinary sense of the word; I was "hearing" them on a "psychic" level, i.e., probably a "channel" created by the electromagnetically enabled bond between me and my plants.
I guess I'm their angel. But God -- the Gardener -- is above all, the being that created us all and gives us all good things as well as some bad things ("The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord" ). The Gardener gives life to all beings and takes it away; the Gardener loves us all. That was the essence of my roses' prayer and praise-song.
It lifted my heart into the stratosphere, after a long, terrible siege of emotional body-blows.
Are we alone in the universe? We have never been alone, just afflicted with self-willed blindness to most of what's there to be known.
I awoke one morning in what I think was mid-Winter of 2011 to find a cascade of gorgeous golden sunlight on the rug next to my bed. It had been extremely cold, heavily overcast, and raining or snowing all Winter, and this flood of molten gold warmed the soul as nothing else could. And then I sensed it: mental "voices" raised in a hymn of praise and gratitude, probably picked up due to interactions of my electromagnetic field and those of the plants in question. My roses were lifting their "voices" in prayer and love to the Gardener. It went approximately like this:
For the Gardener brings the rain,
And the Gardener brings the Sun.
The Gardener brings the food,
And shades us from the worst of the heat.
For the Gardener brings the warmth in the midst of Winter.
For the Gardener is so kind, the Gardener cares for us.
For the Gardener loves us.
All praise the Gardener!
(That last "praise" also sort of suggested "for we love the Gardener.")
The "Gardener" in that hymn of praise, that chant of love, didn't mean me. It meant the Gardener. I'm just a Gardener, one of the Gardener's countless two-legged agents.
If the roses had had hands, they'd have lifted them to the sky as they "sang." Their praise-song and hymn wasn't audible, but rather in a mode that may have been electromagnetic, and I may have sensed it via a highly evolved version of the lateral-line electromagnetic sensing organ found in many fish, and present in the ancestors of all terrestrial vertebrates, including our most ancient ancestors that lived on land. There was no voice to hear in the ordinary sense of the word; I was "hearing" them on a "psychic" level, i.e., probably a "channel" created by the electromagnetically enabled bond between me and my plants.
I guess I'm their angel. But God -- the Gardener -- is above all, the being that created us all and gives us all good things as well as some bad things ("The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away; blessed be the name of the Lord" ). The Gardener gives life to all beings and takes it away; the Gardener loves us all. That was the essence of my roses' prayer and praise-song.
It lifted my heart into the stratosphere, after a long, terrible siege of emotional body-blows.
Are we alone in the universe? We have never been alone, just afflicted with self-willed blindness to most of what's there to be known.