HERSTORY OF MY OBSESSIONS: As the millennium turned, I shifted from one flower to another

May 18, 2023

To follow up on yesterday’s post, where I urged myself and everyone to stop and smell the roses in the midst of constant, more and more alarming “news” (really, “the olds,” on endless repeat repeat repeat), I run another post here, first detailing my own experience starting as a child with roses, and next, state that since the turn of the millennium, I’ve migrated from Rose to . . . Iris!

PLANT MAGICK_ Roses

Excerpt:

“And they were everywhere, mature rose bushes, entwining our slatted wood backyard fence like a chorus line of great fans, holding hands, one after another, pink, white, red and yellow blossoms seeking the sun, suspended in air, calling to me to come, come. To snuffle right up to those great, fragile, multi-petaled spirals in all stages of blooming. To feast my eyes on their breathless beauty, to bathe my lungs in their loving gentle joyful spirit.

“I loved them and felt blessed in their presence. I could forget nuclear war, could forget the war within my own psyche, could forget the squabbling among eight siblings in the red brick house facing the rose-trellised fenced yard. The red brick house where my mother labored day after endless day with chores, and of which the back door was forever slamming open and shut with the rush of young strong restless tanned legs in shorts of all sizes.

“I could release it all and sink into the fragrance of roses. Tittering on tip toe, expectant, I would seek, and then thrill to discover the perfect rose. The one rose that was not closed tight as a bud, nor was it opened fully to show the seeds, but — oh ecstasy! — was opening, spiraling out, its fluid ordered dynamics so clear, so glorious, so mysterious, that my heart would flutter in jubilation.”

_____

 

This morning, out in the front yard, I consulted with neighbor Carissa about why my irises are not producing flowers; most of them, that is. Here’s one that surprisingly, is coming up through already spent daffodils. Not quite in bloom, but already glorious in its unfolding.

A few of the smaller irises are blooming, like this one:

Carissa wonders if it has to do with the ph of the soil in that area; maybe too acidic? She tells me of someone she knows who sprinkled baking soda onto the soil underneath his plants, and they took off! Makes sense: true for me, too. I sometimes have to get up in the middle of the night to quell the acidity of my stomach, still working overtime to process the drama of the day before, by drinking a bit of baking soda diluted in water.

In order to impress on her how vital the Iris has become in my life, I take her inside the living room and show her the painting I created on return from a Dances of Universal Peace event on Good Friday, 2002. I came back to the motel in a heightened state, sat down, picked up watercolors, and moved into an ecstatic trance.

And while the painting is itself beautiful (despite the reflections on the photo I took of the painting on the wall this morning), its colors pale to nothingness next to real live irises, or roses, or any other real, living, organic being that sings to the sky, is blessed by the sun, and roots deeply within the living, conscious being we call Earth.

 

That I wonder why I am so drawn to iris (which are right now blooming all over town) and that they are not producing much (yet) this year in my own yard . . . look what Iris symbolizes!

Yes Ann, stay calm and positive. Bless the unfolding of the miracle that each of our short, precious plant — and human — lives offer to our dear Mother Earth.

And . . . get out the baking powder. At least for me, and maybe for the Iris, too.

 

WAKE UP!!! . . . Tripping the Light Fantastic through Meme-Land

May 17, 2023

 

 

It really is true, how the smell of a rose can instantly, for a millisecond, banish thought.

(Oops. Correction, smell of a non-commercial rose, that is. Not many left. Most have had the smell bred right outta them. But let’s get back to the subject, shall we?)

The smell of a real, still wild, rose, or even the roses still growing in your long-dead grandmother’s back yard, moves us instantly, if temporarily, out of our feverish minds into our sensual, bodily selves.

These weird, fear-full thoughts . . .  what we now, post-covidiana, term a mind virus. And there are gobs of mind viruses, more or less apparently virulent, but all instantly vanish-able with one whiff of a real, old-fashioned rose. By activating the senses, by truly stopping paranoid monkey mind long enough to do so, we suddenly, miraculously! — shift from buzzing booming left brain to spacious right brain, activating the heart.

But we can’t have that, can we? An open heart shifts us from the contraction of fear into the expansion of love. But but but . . . what WE love — is to hate! To hate what our identified group hates! It makes us feel connected to them. Makes us feel not so weird and alone!

—————

So, little ones. Maybe Elon IS a big bad monster. And maybe not. Who knows? Try to keep an open mind! The first meme of this wake-up meme collection I’ve saved on my desktop for ages — since, likely, Elon bought twitter and freaked out those “on the left.” That was months ago. Remember? Remember that far back? And now that he seems to be hiring a WEF executive as twitter CEO, those “on the right” are the ones freaking. Oh well!

 

There’s just so many many things we can “freak out” over! Why do we do this? It’s as if we’re addicted to intensity. Are we?

Some of the freak-out stuff we’ve known for awhile now. How long? Notice how dated the following meme feels? What’s it been, only months? weeks?

 

We just have to find more and more stuff to freak us out! Make us feel more alive in our screen virtualities! Intensity equals aliveness!

Hell, that’s easy. Wanna freak out on a minute-by-minute basis? Just continue to pay attention to the bought, bribed, blackmailed MSM; and while there, notice the patterns. Notice! Just notice! That’s all genuine aliveness requires, that we stop and notice what we are thinking. I.e., that we learn to live in the (right brain) space that holds our (left brain) thinking without identifying with any of it.

 

Oh but wait. We know all about (Hegel’s, Icke’s) Problem/Reaction/Solution, and choose to take a detour around any fake, famous, confabulated crisis, always.

Oh yeah? How ’bout Russia Russia Russia and Putin. Still hate Putin? It’s important to continue to hate him as a war monger, cuz the Democrats (and RINOs, and banksters, and weapons manufacturers, assisted by the propaganda arm of the govern-ment, the MSM) need to gin up war war war (especially before the 2024 election, cuz there’s never been a U.S. president who lost an election during a war).

 

 

“New World Order. What? Are you a conspiracy theorist?”

Think I’m “just” a conspiracy theorist? Really? Still?

Geez. You’e right. It doesn’t make sense, the disconnect between what “they” SAY and what “they” DO. Okay. What does still make sense?  Does anything make sense? Let’s stop and sit on a park bench for awhile, have an actual conversation.

Oops!

Oh yeah, came across this in recent aftermath of the Durham Report. Pretty good one, don’tcha think?

 

But geez! Will that report lead to any arrests? Or is it just thumbs in our faces, as usual.

Remember how the “govern-ment,” during World War I, wanted us to create victory gardens, including chickens? Why isn’t this is a good idea during this ongoing war for our minds, World War III?

Okay. How about this? I know you’re familiar with The Matrix film, right? Which to choose? Red pill or blue pill? Let’s get this straight, just who is who. Oh, but wait!

Yep. It’s not just Red OR Blue, it’s both together. So that the brain grows confused, taken in by the swirling fakeness.

After awhile of trying to “make sense of the madness,” the (left) brainiac just gives up. “Go ahead, take control.”

Oh, wait. It’s Soros! He’s the one we need to blame. Get him outta here and all will be well.

Oh yeah? But what if Soros is also a puppet?

Just who is sitting around this round table. I doubt they are knights. Are these weirdos even human? Are they already transhuman? Are they alien, from across the border between Earth and whatever it’s supposedly floating in?