Tuesday, March 10, 2009

From the Botom of the Well

When we lived in Sedona AZ, I’d take people out to Montezuma’s Well. The place felt sacred, but energetically dark. There were ruins at the ridge of the well which was more of a giant sink-hole. The ground was harsh, volcanic chunks, and rather desolate. One could hike down to the bottom of the sink-hole, where human remains that had been ceremonially buried in the ruins. Nothing lived in the large dark pool but turtles.

Looking up through the volcanic rock walls to the sky, the water dark and reflective would open doors within me. Not all of them pleasant. Stagnant arid air, whooshing forth with the opening, then raw silence. What had been released, I could not say.
But always unnerving.

Then the hike out, body feeling dense and drained. We’d follow the path up and then around the corner and dropping down the backside of the rim to a lovely canyon with a chatty stream. There the light glistened, dancing merrily through large sycamore trees. The place was sweet. It felt somehow kissed by wonder. There where water flowed forth from the rock wall of well, it always seemed to wash away the feeling of having been touched by darkness, even if the darkness may have been a reflection. The creak side of the well transmuted,...somewhere in the play of light and shadow healing happened.

The water which flowed forth from the side of the wall was harnessed into an irrigation ditch. The ditch was believed to be over a thousand years old and was still in use to irrigate land. In the first 50’ of the ditch lived a little fresh water shrimp-like thing. The critter was unique to that spot, the first 50’ of ditch was the critters universe as it didn’t live anyplace else.

Ecosystems live and evolve. They live in the first 50’ of an irrigation ditch and they live in us.

Even if you do not own a piece of land, have never picked up a shovel, and never intend to pick up a shovel you are in relationship with self, nature, the physical word, and the unseen worlds. You are the caretaker. We the people have are mini-gods we develop and cultivate our own ecosystems. How does your garden grow?

Beyond the many critters that live in and on you, there are the stories you keep. Stories are like food, some nurture while others steal food from your soul or others. It is out of our stories that we dream, from the stories that we create.

Permaculture asks us to observe how the elements behave and interrelate…

Are the recurring themes and stories in your life grounded and integrated? Do they support your wholeness? How does one identify ones stories?
Better yet, how can one upgrade?

Like my garden in springtime, it may be time to pull some weeds in the form of week-ass stories. It’s okay if the shelves have to sit barren for a while. Sitting in the vacuum of empty is harder than it sounds. But radically productive in a non-doing sort of way.

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