Random Thoughts and Ramblings:
I love that Gen Z is falling in love with Kate Bush.
I could care less about Johnny Depp and Amber Heard.
My early summer perennial flowers are starting to bloom and it is 96 degrees mid June. They look disgusted. And wilted before they even flowered.
Stop calling human rights issues culture wars.
My neighbor is a guerrilla gardener, planting flowers and shrubs in abandoned lots. I think she likes plants more than people. I love her. Or at the very least, my heart expands and tenderness seeps all the way down to my toes when I see her, ever hopeful, expanding her garden in the empty lot across the street.
Pretty much all the Republicans right now are awful. Some are downright monstrous.
The people currently calling for more guns…..Yikes. The calling for this creates a wound in my being, a deep sorrow that feels ancient and familiar. Violence is a story of the human race but it is not the only narrative, nor does it need to be the predominant one.
Jesus used metaphor to teach us to dismantle empire by planting mustard seeds everywhere, the insidious, invasive species that destroyed mass crops. We dismantle empire by living into the beloved community, resisting ranking, hierarchy, mindless consumption, isolation, competition, greed and by refusing to model our existence after King of the Hill, the ridiculous children’s game.
I think about gravity, spirals, the various densities of fluid in our bodies, the microbes in our gut and rolling my body on the ground fairly often. The circulation of fluids in our body mirrors that of the planet; evaporation, condensation, precipitation, urine, blood, sweat, tears, lymph, interstitial fluid. The fascial matrix of our being, the continuity of our connective tissue and it’s relationship to our nervous system is replicated externally in the mycelium network, the largest organism on the planet, a system integrated into layers of soil that provide nourishment and facilitate communication to trees. We are nature. Shapes and patterns of the natural world.
The earliest birdsong began this morning around 4:45 AM. The lone voice of a songbird singing the dawn into unfolding. Slowly and gradually other birdsong emerged, a symphony of rejoicing at the sun rising another day.
Reoccurring random thoughts.
Diving underneath the noise at the top to submerge into the depths, to rise with a connected, grounded, present nervous system.
