03/11/2022
Viridarium Umbris by Daniel Schulke writes:
“By light of the Moon, as it waxeth full and at zenith, sit beneath a many branched tree, or in a thicket of such arbours, such that by lunary flame the shadow of their limbs is cast upon the ground”. - Praxis Sylva: Assuming the Mantles of Shadow and Light. Page 12, Book 1: The Book of the Unknown Host.
I think about pain today. How sometimes it is our body speaking to us. How always it is our body speaking to us.
The way the ache spills over, pulls us to its birthing place, and we see the twining limbs of our being grow and fumble and break and heal around its origin.
I often feel I am wearing skin. Like a true piece of me grows inside, and my heart and limbs are in dialogue always.
The Spirit is like a fire, but the flesh? The flesh is like clay, and earth, and soil. And all the ways green growing things move and shift and sigh and wind within Her.
I am a seed. I am planted in the richness of my being. And the being of my ancestors, my spirits, my kingdoms. Of this place. This moment in time always shifting and moving.
I grew this tree from a sapling. I see the faces of my Dead in Her Leaves.
The Gardener tills the soil as they massage between his toes.
He plants beginnings to one day sow their endings. He waters them with tears and whispers his hopes and dreams and fears and wishes inside their hollow parts.
And he lets go. And he believes.
That one day the Seed, will grow into something more than He could have ever imagined alone.
This is also called Life.
