There was a gnarly old tree growing down on the bottom. It was difficult to tell what it was the bottom of, but you could tell it was the bottom. You could also tell that the gnarly old tree was old. Maybe older than anything living. Maybe much, much older, but who could say?
We'd been traveling for days to get here. We started by going to Bluff, which is a strong potentiality point that semi-exists between certain dimensional structures that . . . okay, that's not very clear, I can see that. Let's see, how about it's a place between the realms of magic and the great unknown? Yeah, that seems reasonable, as long as you remember that the great unknown has many layers. You know, the first layers you might just zap through thinking about stuff, then, if you've a mind, a few layers more are discovered with some mindfulness, calm and reflective meditations. You begin to notice that each layer of understanding is becoming more beautiful and astonishing even as they become more difficult to attain. Many layers have layers of their own that baffle and amaze. It takes lots of work to get to Bluff even though it's just sideways from here. It's all pretty subtle.
Once you're in Bluff it's easy to get sidetracked and we are wary. We pass a restaurant we like and heavenly smells are wafting around in front of us but we persevere, remembering the importance of our mission. Hatred, greed and lies have brought the mythical world to its knees and even the magical realms are threatened. We must continue. We pass the Witch's Council, then the Kerfuffle and finally the local office of the Akashic Records, each beckoning, pulling at us in its own way. We continue resolutely and now we step into the Weird. We are floating in some sort of thick air, air that you can easily breathe and move around in yet feels like being in water. I know this to be the membrane that surrounds the Cosmic Ocean where the dreamer sleeps, but that is not our goal as we would not be able to return from that place. I steer us toward a giant lotus looking platform and we settle easily onto it. There is creation emerging in unlimited waves from everywhere on this green platform, waves that match the waves underneath, pulsing and radiating outward. This unlimited potential flows upward until it emerges into the world of ideas. This is what we call the Emergent Sea.
The gnarly tree regards us as we regard it, of this I am sure. We are getting close I think, but too, I know the tree to be massive beyond reckoning. The air is thick yet easy to breathe. Sometimes when Ishmael speaks, I see little bubbles coming from his mouth that float slowly upward. I start to laugh but stop, realizing that to do so would release bubbles from my own mouth that have built up. Then I let them go, slowly, watching in wonder as they float past my face. With a tinge of fear I breathe in but the air is fine. I can see faint swirls in the air as Treywiz strides forcefully on, his cape flowing in the currents. We are all easy to laugh, feeling a peculiar buoyancy, perhaps due to the thick air but more likely due to the joy-filled love that is pouring over us in waves. It is a silent sound that's flying out of the om song and thrumming in the deepest tones you can imagine, then deeper, while soaring to the highest tones you can imagine, then higher, humming together, all together low and high and in between but each voice distinct, each voice heard when it begins and each voice heard when it ends, the om song continues no matter what, perhaps forever.
Finally we stand before the gnarly old tree, feeling its ancient beauty and grace while knowing that we could not see all of it, not all at once anyway, maybe never. Somehow, we understood that humanity's voice, which includes all the voices of magic, could decrease a lot, or even cease yet the om song would continue unabated. It would be different and many new voices would appear to fill the empty niches we'd leave behind but it would continue, nonetheless. Today's quarrels and wars mean nothing to the movement of time except perhaps to add grief and woe to the experience, neither of which is necessary. You do not need darkness to appreciate light nor do you need struggle to be strong, rather what is needed is joy, appreciation, and lots of love because the Emergent Sea will always provide.
The Emergent Sea
Part Three: Going Home
There has always been a meadow and there will always be a meadow. Even when the world is gone to dust the meadow's particular loving energy will endure. Our return from the Emergent Sea was peaceful and kind. We went first to our meadow's living room in front of Holly's Palatial Estate where we spread out on the chairs and couches. Kindness. Loving kindness is what the Emergent Sea has taught us because nothing else matters.
We have our beautiful earth to protect and nurture, our Mother Gaia, who is blessed by Father Sun, and this is where we will find peace and love or war and hell. It is always our choice, even when the monsters have us against the wall, it is our choice. Just following orders is an invalid response to atrocity, as is fear, because they are complicity. Here's the bottom line choices for all foundations: Love or Hate. All subsequent choices will then have their basis in and be colored by one or the other. Here, on this farm and in this meadow, we choose Love.
Spike and Rover, along with Ishmael, Lorna and Ishytoo, have gone to the Howling Wall to prepare, because tonight we will howl for love, justice, and the well-being of all people. The Moon and the Stars will bear witness to our resolve, knowing that tonight we vow to fight no more forever.
Sweet Loretta has come, howling for all the puppies and their mamas, along with Fido who has come bounding from over there to howl for them guys. We howl for freedom and equality for all. Here there is room for all and there is sustenance. I see Mother Moon smiling down on our efforts because she feels our resolve as we howl like we have never howled before. Lightning flashes and the winds scream around us, all standing tall and proud.
The next morning there is a mist over the meadow, overcast and sullen with a rainbow showing where Father Sun has peeked through. I like this rainy smell when the season is new and sniff contentedly as I stroll across the wet grass toward Holly's Palatial Estate where our chairs and tables have been set under its broad awning, providing a dry and protected spot in which to enjoy the farm's perennial favorite, tea and biscuits, while watching the rain. The rain is beloved in these environs and it is nice to admire it from a dry perspective.
We have all accepted our roles as doers of anonymous good. We are committed to random acts of kindness. We do not fight evil, rather with love we show its failings. We spread a quiet sense of peace and loving kindness that allows for the possibility of a better world. But do not mistake our loving kindness for passivity. We are steadfast defenders as well, defending innocent goodness in all its myriad forms. This is called resistance. It is through love and resistance that we will base our actions.
I keep trying to get back to the garden, well the meadow actually but I really like that phrase 'back to the garden.' Sounds epic, doesn't it? In any case I continue to try to recapture those halcyon days when adventure was around each corner or through each door or . . . well, it was just there, wherever. Now there is a vile cloud that haunts us, created by a despicable man complete with evil minions who haunt the well-being of my family and my friends and their families. His intention to hurt us is unmistakable. This is damn creepy.
Having said that, I know the meadow is our only answer to these atrocities. It's all we can do to somehow put love back into the equation. We send you all love and appreciation. Together we can get through this disgraceful national nightmare.