When this headline came onscreen, the memory of your activist legacy sprang to mind. You old stalwart! Nestle has successfully been banished from Wells, Maine, and now it's moving on to other communities, peddling Lies and vampirism. Doubtless they are pouting from the stinging bitch slap of forcible ejection.
It's been in the news lately, some humans out West are prohibited from catching the rain that falls on their roofs! The Evil Machine of the State has declared that rain belongs under its dominion. After the rain percolates underground and into rivers, pipes suck it up and divvy it out to food factories.
Earlier today, I imagined a conversation going on between two undines, elemental beings of water. They were talking about humanity's and hanging out in the clouds above Denver. "People are getting so dense during this part of the cycle," one complains to the other. "What a crappy way to go! Their agricultural paradigm reflects backwardness and greed. It's gotten so bad, they might desertify the whole planet." The second is inclined to agree. "Some of them say claim that they are inventing their way out of their ignorant practices, while at the same time continuing on the same self-destructive course. It's a Hell of a big lie to let yourself believe in." It's voice is choked up and water begins to precipitate as tears, falling to Earth. "Ah, cheer up, this part is always enjoyable!" says the first undine. "Sure, many of them are living like fucktards, and that's part of growing up. They are falling on their face, so they can learn the invaluable lesson of picking themselves back up again. Soon, many of them may learn wise stewardship of the World." They splash together on a homesteaders' roof, and are funneled into an underground cistern. Later, as their liquid is sprayed out of a watering can onto the homesteader's indoor marijuana patch, they shout together, "See, it's happening already!"
Your root balls have been delivered to R. Robust and vital rosemary, sage, oregano and lavendar are coming your way! I mixed additional compost and sand into holes where your plants were dug out. Your soil was not so desirable, typical stuff of Cincinnati, a hard pan of acidic clay. Those herbs seem to thrive on adversity, though, and your more Northernly Garden is about to be enriched.
Over the last few days I've done some good reading into the Western Esoteric Tradition, and I wanted to share my take on the Rosicrucians with you. I think you'll appreciate their story and find them to be kindred spirits.
Rosicrucian translates as "of the Rosey Cross". Conjure up a picture of a flower, sitting on an elemental cross of the 4 directions. It immediately sheds light both on their unusual monotheism, and their work of healing the perceived rift between humans and Nature. Jesus being equivalent to a rose bush without thorns, I suppose
Times were dark when the Rosicrucians got their start. The Church was actively hunting down and murdering rural wise women, and declaring all free thinking (to say nothing of smoking pot and running around in the woods naked) to be thought crime, punishable by indentured servitude or publicly burning to death at the stake. In their times, the first corporations were going on State-sponsored expeditions to America; America, where people's civilizations were quite sophisticated in sustainable cooperation with whatever bioregion they occured in. For this, the indigenous humans were uncomprehendingly laughed at and slaughtered!
Rosicrucians were Christian, European men who answered the call to shamanism starting 500 years ago. Through meditation, studying alchemy with Muslims in North Africa and the Middle East, and learning about the Tree of Life from Jews in Spain, they realized that they as humans were part of Nature. They realized that the alientation we suffer from Nature stems from a primal disconnection from our higher selves, from "God". So they sought and achieved conversation with the Divine, which is an understanding of the animating spirit of Nature, of all the beings: our fellow humans, animals, plants, fungi, bacteria and elementals like the undines. Also, seeing the Divine in the interconnecting relationships between everything, which makes existence more than the sum of its parts.
Their wisdom, their Gnosis, and the exercises they developed for its attainment, has living, contemorary versions in many other cultures- Taoist sages in China, Lakota medicine men- but that kind of knowledge has died in the minds of European intelligentsia. The mythical founders of the "Fraternity of the most Laudable Order of the Rosy Cross" stole around Europe, secretly relating their revelation to every dissenter they could find. Their goal was to ferment a great reform, to bring us out of the madness which is still embodied by the international elite and the spectacle-bound masses. Those crafty prophets of love, the Rosicrucians, sought to resurrect a WORKING, practical understanding of the unity of all things. The unity Nature and God, of humans and Heaven and Earth- they rekindled this in the hearts of many of their countrymen. Their heirs are still failing, and still succeeding. I see their ethos gettin' replayed out by "CrimethInc." and it's anarchist culture jammers, for instance.
I love writing letters. They afford a rare, social opportunity for taking time, getting one's thoughts together, and sharing them with a friend in developed form. Getting one's creative juices flowing, laying down the ambrosia on paper or pixel.
Traditionally, I have experienced debilitating difficulty with inspiring myself to write. This may stem from the fact that my favorite writing is usually done in letters, and I lose them when I send them. A.A. mentioned that you are reading the Artist's Way together and cheering each other on. I'm feeling the urge too, and I am embarrassed to say that my blog lies mostly empty. Writing letters this week has been as Cerridwen's cauldron of inspiration, a self-renewing source of fermenting fuel, with which Brigit is sparking a creative fire in my head. I had this idea, and I want you to give it thought and tell me what you come up with.
Instead of trying to pull teeth by writing random shite on noblesavagery.blogspot.com, (for instance the latest post about getting randy after eating too many plums), I could duplicate my best letters and anonymize people by using peoples's initials. That way people who know of the events from direct experience could know exactly what and I'm talking about, but noone else would. Of course, discretion would be necessary for any private matters. Discussing peoples' comfort and gaining consent before publishing is necessary. This would become second nature.
Do I have permission to republish this letter on Noble Savagery? Your name would be M., or M. M. Please let me know.
Be well M.! I hope you enjoy your herbs, and please struggle to maintain a positive attitude about your situation.
Yours in Love for the Earth,