Today – July 26 – is New Year’s Day in the Mayan calendar. The coming year is designated as a Yellow Crystal Seed year. Whether or not you choose to pay this any mind is up to you.
I like the symbolism and the idea that the next twelve months are a fertile time in which to plant seeds for future growth.
Apparent November 8, 2016 – the day of the US election was a Yellow Crystal Seed Day. This would appear to indicate that what grows from yellow crystal seeds depends entirely on what kind of seeds are planted.
Luckily, on a personal level, we don’t need to hold a nation wide election to determine what seeds we plant as individuals over the coming months. In this matter we have complete free will. What seeds we plant, nurture and let grow is up to us.
prompt: Colleen Chesebro poetry challenge – heat, confuse
Caught in the slipstream – a current of opinion swirling around me –
– it is a compelling voice – this collective flow of opinion – the group consensus –
Maybe it’s a tribal thing dating from cave times – this feeling that if I go against the group I won’t survive – I’ll be exiled – cut off and left for dead.
this flow of the group mind
does not correspond
with the way my own energy
prompt: Patrick’s Pic and Word challenge – current – https://pixtowords.com/2017/07/23/current-pic-and-a-word-challenge-97/
My response to this week’s “On The Road” prompt – https://ontheroadprompts.wordpress.com/2017/07/21/following-the-heart/
Grey winter weather closes in. Memories of the road and journeys taken fade to shadows. The fireside, music playing, a good book and the view of misty gums beyond the room is enough for now.
Yet, even as I sit, the book falls to my lap as the music carries me away. Through the mist I catch glimpses of the road out – another journey yet to be taken.
Here’s my response to my latest On the Road prompt here . ___________________________________________________________________________________
A hipster girl walked past me in a busy shop, a mobile phone pressed to her ear. “That’s so hectic,” she said.
Good word for it, I thought. It is so hectic down here right now. The place is overrun with international tourists and kids on school holidays. Parking has become a competitive sport.
Part of the hectic feeling comes from my sense that time is going faster than usual. How can be July already? Another factor is the weird sense of unreality that comes over me sometimes. I feel like I am in glitch and that I am out phase with other people. Conversations seem to happen across a gulf of miscommunication and missed connections. “Have a nice day,” people say in voices that sound robotic, pre-programmed. I wonder if I have strayed into The Truman Show.
Yesterday it all got too much and I drove to a bush reserve out of town. Avoiding the tourists I parked away from the main picnic areas and walked back into the hills.
There I entered another world. I followed narrow animal trails of damp, dark earth into a clearing of bright green winter grasses growing low to the ground. Trees protected me on all sides. Wattle was already bursting into flower on some. The sight of it took me by surprise. Somehow in town I’d overlooked these markers of the year’s passage. Here the natural order of things reasserted itself.
I stood stock still and let the sounds and colours of nature wash over me – through me. The black trunks of the wattle trees around me became my temple walls. A soft wind blew through the tree tops. Birds twittered. Frogs croaked in the wetlands. Something shifted in my heart and mind. For the first time in days I felt real, alive.
I’d all but given up on a big offline creative project I’ve been working on. The task seemed too daunting and the obstacles too huge. Late last night I decided I would have to admit I had failed to meet the challenge.
Then – while I was sleeping –
ephemeral as mist
– I tiptoe forward
prompt: pixtowords challenge – creativity
I think it was in the 90s when people used the term serial monogamy to talk about someone who had a series of long term sexual relationships. I’m not discussing my sex life here. Rather I am using a similar term to describe my pattern of settling in an area for a few years then wandering around for a while before settling in a completely different local and doing the same thing – serial homemaking perhaps or serial occupancy.
I’ve been in this area for 5 years now. In that time I’ve rented four different places. This place I’m in now works the best of any of them. I’m comfortable here and am even making plans for next year. Always though I hear the road calling.
My response to this week’s “On the Road” Prompt https://ontheroadprompts.wordpress.com/2017/07/05/the-call-of-the-road/
“As we turn every corner of the Narrow Road to the Deep North, we sometimes stand up unawares to applaud and we sometimes fall flat to resist the agonizing pains we feel in the depths of our hearts. There are also times when we feel like taking to the roads ourselves, seizing the raincoat lying near by, or times when we feel like sitting down till our legs take root, enjoying the scene we picture before our eyes.” – Soruyo
– from The Tibetan Book Of The Dead:
[…] “O nobly-born, listen undistractedly. Not having been able to recognize when the Peaceful [Deities] shone upon thee in the Bardo above, thou hast come wandering thus far. Now, on the Eighth Day, the blood-drinking Wrathful Deities will come to shine. Act so as to recognize them without being distracted.” […]