Earth Medicine

Soul entry
Thank you for being brave enough to enter the landscape of YOU.
This medicine unfurls itself over many dreams merging with what may feel like ancient home lands.
From dealing with the pain of being separated from sacred land (although ultimately by one's own choice) the tillage is available for so much more self expressive language and emotion that can move through the field.
You are invited to join the circle of re-remembering from Irish lands and sea, to re-create from the inside

Transcript

Welcome to Earth Medicine.

It is an honour to be here with you in presence,

In listening,

In the exploration,

The meditation,

The sensation of coming and settling into our bodies,

Into our hearts.

I am thankful to be here,

To become witness,

To allow a deeper listening,

A deeper breath.

What is most alive in your breathing body?

When we come into this space to land home,

In,

Within and around ourselves,

We can start to feel the breath again.

The soft,

Receptive awareness that we have for the fullness of our being.

What is moving,

What wishes to be seen,

Felt and heard.

When our hearts are open and we sense the room that we are in,

The ground that we lie upon,

Accepting us,

Welcoming us.

We can feel safe to arrive.

When our hearts are trampled upon or bruised from over caring,

Outpouring,

Over worrying,

Over thinking,

Over doing,

The ache in our heart can feel like we are in a room and in the distance there is a room on the other side of the house with music coming from within.

And yet we can't get in.

There is a longing and a yearning to enter.

The universe has all our decisions already decided upon.

So why do we fight and put up armour and over protect and have shields around?

When we say yes to giving up all war,

All fighting,

We can enter the room where the soothing sound of music is playing.

Suddenly we know that it's possible to pull down the handle and choose beauty and joy and peace.

The decision is done.

The visceral feeling of knowing in our body that we wish to belong somewhere in space,

In a body of water,

In a room,

On the land is very real.

It's called topophilia and it's a bond and a belonging to a place that happens before the age of six.

It's an emotional connection that occurs between us and the natural world.

And we may spend our whole lives trying to get back there.

That small sacred patch of earth,

That pond of still water or the tree so tall that the eyes of a small child can't reach to see the tip.

Our place lets us know that we are needed here.

The subconscious unwritten whispers,

Unspoken,

Come seeping into our being in our very early days as our footprint is merging with the earth.

And if we are ever to take our longing seriously,

We sit quietly listening even harder to make out the sound in that distant room.

It is a song that we already know but have just forgotten how to play.

An unsung song registering in our memory,

In our heart,

Our vocal cord,

Aching for too long to be able to catch it on the tips of our tongue.

We strain our ears but we don't have to go that far to see if we can find it already in the inner belly.

There's the expansive breath I get to lean into.

There's the pulse of the earth reminding me how to tune to it.

There's the home I always yearned to live in.

There's the holiness in all I touch.

To come home to a long forgotten place inside takes courage,

The strength to carry on where the music fades entirely,

The trust it takes to be in the resonant field of the sound of a heartbeat,

The immense surrender to drop back into the soft belly.

The longer we sit,

The closer we get to the sound.

And it rises as if from nowhere,

As if out of a vast,

Wide,

Open night sky.

It's as if we once made the sound that it came uninterrupted from our mother's womb into ours,

Passed through water,

Passed through the cord.

The beat of her heart reverberated in us for nine months,

A deeply rooted gestation in placental fluid,

And before that we tumbled through the womb of our grandmother.

There is the distant hum from our great grandmother and all the way back to when we roamed the lands,

Intimately new other deer tracks,

Mycelium spreading,

Wings wide,

The trees that gave us food,

The seaweed and fish that we could eat and know,

How to catch,

All the way back to when we twinkled at stars among the night sky.

Starting here,

What can you remember?

Fill the air around you with the purest place you have ever visited.

Let those long lost timelines of sound carry you through the interval spent in space.

Who did you meet there?

Every new glimpse returning as you are here starting again.

There is a stream breathing through our awareness that's always available,

A steadfast stream pouring into you of crystal clear water sparkling in its clarity.

If it feels uncomfortable to time travel or revisit the very vast expanse of your own history before coming here,

If you resist,

Ask yourself why in this present moment is it something that you are hearing?

Is there a buried part of you lost to an old world that you unconsciously long to access?

As we move into a grounded state of being,

A part of you may still feel like it wants to avoid and detach and run,

While still knowing that you can come into the body in any nanosecond that you choose.

Let the cycle be desire,

Aversion,

Craving,

Dukkha,

That eternal leaving,

The emotional contagion and being lost,

Being chased.

When you're leaving the current,

The steady stream comes rushing back in again,

Being the dance of the running and crashing,

The cyclone walking through.

The fields of resistance help you come back to ground,

The river of peace running under you so you don't have to.

Let the breath wash the resistance through.

Choose to listen to the deep well spring of your being there beneath the ground always merging.

We stay with the sound.

It is a breath full and an intricate practice of continuously returning and reawakening to yourself.

All rounds of coming back again.

There are so many windows to see through to catch glimpses of our soul.

Some of them need cleaning,

But they exist.

Even in the dark of a winter morning,

The sunlight can creep in,

Can make a crack through a thick curtain.

The window is not lacking in void.

What we most want to see is ourselves as the soul stewards of our soul,

And it is right in front of us.

Do not strain your eyes.

Have no pressure on the eyeball.

Instead of trying to see,

Rather be shown the light.

Light will come in and out in so many different shades.

It can be the clear presence that invites in the stream of light.

It can be the open vessel that allows the music into the heart,

Back in,

Pulling towards you without effort.

Know that there is a response in your softness and in your receptive body.

Allow that letting go into a long winter.

Because even there,

Your heart just wants you to feel the sound she makes.

Just wants to be with you.

In remembering that we can build a bridge to the land of our own body.

Things that we cannot see or hear or know or name,

But are still,

Knotted in our core,

In our womb.

This sense of things.

This innate understanding,

Underlying feeling is like rebirthing ourselves every time.

And it will rewild the earth.

It will repair the trundled upon parts of you and I and will hold us into the foreseeable.

As we lie as close as we can to the water that runs below the ground.

The veil can lift off our past.

The veil is lifted off of me and I felt so held on a jewel of an island.

So profoundly loved by every surface and colour and heart.

Seeing clearly through soul eyes for a breathless moment of union.

I can sigh out distrust,

Disloyalty and surrender to all of the choices I am making to listen,

To see.

And we can continue to enter our vision out through that window.

And we can shatter the glass and restructure our own selves.

Taking the trouble to explore and expose what is there.

And this is the medicine when we dare to enter.

When we dare to return.

When we dare to get uncomfortable.

When we dare to strip down walls of our own creation for our own hiding.

Because somewhere in that small sacred stagnant pond there is life breathing its way back into the water.

We can choose to merge.

We can choose to pull down the handle and enter the room where there is soothing music.

Or we can stay in the room that we can only hear the distant reverberation of that sound.

As we open our vessel to letting it in through soul eyes,

Through open ears.

We bond and belong again to the place inside of us that is most alive.

Reviews

Thank you Namaste 🙏🏻

Your poetry, the journey you took me through, the music you enabled me to hear, the water that washed through me, the natural places I found myself at before the age of 6 which brought wonder to me, the jewel of an island I recognize deep inside of me, a place I visit over and over again. I wish every human could hear your words of wisdom and travel back to where we all come from and recognize that we are One. 🙏