Lots of Alchemy

 We hold our our hands 

palms outstretched and empty

and remember the lonely eons traveling without form or shape or substance

before we knew there were others

We hold out our hands together

to receive and connect

and we moved together as if one in a vast ocean

before the movement solidified and we were bound

in a network beyond our imagining

We hold a shovel in our hands

and we were in a 19th century mid American forest

outside of a small town

and we were feeling the trees and the land both inside and out

then roads came, and joined us with our fellow creatures

and the towns became cities, and the cities became states

and we forgot about the trees

We hold a phone in our hands

and we no longer needed roads or cities

for we were connected in ways we never knew existed

and soon it wasn't even us anymore but the bound angular grid

that held its own secrets

We hold a crystal in our hands

and remember the lonely eons traveling without form or shape or substance

with a shattering longing than held no remorse

until it disappeared with us

Consciousness as Ecosystem

 In a vision, Philemon supposedly informed Carl Jung that thoughts were not self generated, not ours, but appear like animals in a forest.  Of course, Philemon, would be one such creature in the forest.  As such, Carl's mind was not Carl's, just as our mind is not ours, but can be thought of as a ecosystem.  And we can experience (or walk) through the ecosystem just like we can walk through a forest.  And we can experience the myriad of animals, plant life, wind, rain, growth, death, decay all existing in our experiential reality.  Consciousness is like a forest walk.  We can listen to the forest, feel the forest and its creatures, nurture it, touch it, explore its boundaries.  It is us after all.  A more expansive us.

And I think the forest is governed to some extent by certain natural laws. Or at least rhythms.   Maybe more like alchemical cycles.    There is calcination, solution, separation, putrefaction, congelation, and in the morning, rubedo.  And perhaps understanding those principles can make us better forest stewards.

Perhaps what we think of as us is akin to a caretaker of the forest.  The part which responds when something disturbs the forest.  When we are relaxed the waters run though the forest peacefully.  And the birds and breeze sounds with a comforting rhythm.  

Some call the forest "imagination."  Which makes sense.    I think the imagination is like the sunlight than comes through the canopy in certain moments  to illuminate certain aspects of the forest we didn't realize were there.  Or when we stick our heads in the small pond over there to see something in the darkness.

In a way, the mystery is whether my forest is the same as yours.  And whether Philemon is part of my forest.  And it some ways, I think I would rather meet and connect with Philemon than Carl Jung.  It was probably more interesting.  Philemon was indeed an "it".  And I think we are all "its."  Cheers to all the its out there.