Underground tales

Remember the old ways? No we don’t. We don’t remember. Their storytellers are gone. No one wanted to listen to the tales of old, so they disappeared. Passed with all their knowledge. Their wisdom. Old got boring while we were seduced by modern things. Convenient consumerism. Slowly but surely. We replaced the old ways with new ways that was supposed to be smart. To release more time. We have never been busier doing … what is it we’re doing?

What are you doing? How are you doing? When you think about it, seeing your contribution in a bigger perspective, does it make sense? Do you feel this is the life you wanted to live- is that what you dreamed of as a young kid? Is this according to your gut, your passion, your inner conviction? Are you true to you?

Sorry for asking!

We are looking out toward the skies- but not to stargaze in awe and wonder and understand the movements and know why there's a link to the life we lead here. We are looking to find a new home out there as we know we have little time left here. We don’t know about stellar and celestial movements. Solar and cosmic winds. Our inner compasses so disturbed by artificial currents we can’t feel north from south. We cannot find our way instinctively. We watch the birds soaring the skies at certain times of the year. Do we remember to tell our children why? Do they know about ebb and flow? Do they care? Can the bees find their way home? Do YOU know why it is important? Do our children see it too? Or do we let them be absorbed in an artificial world, transcending into virtual realities while the real one is taken over by cleverly disguised demagogues, and we are so anesthetized by technological advance we don’t even care whether we live or die. We can’t be bothered because we are so tired, so exhausted. So content by this comfortable numbness. Put on another Netflix show and shut out the world problems.

It is no longer tradition to pass on the stories of how everything is done and why it is important to keep doing the things we used to do. Do you know that plants are edible and can sustain you better than bacon? Are you eating consciously, forget about politically correct for a while- just consciously? Are you happy you get to eat? Are you aware of nutrition, your body’s intelligence? Can you feel your body at all? Or are you stuck in the shoulds and shouldn’ts, the proclaimed religion about what is healthy and what isn’t? A body religion- making you feel wrong, unworthy of love, unsuccessful? Can you just feel good in your skin?

Can you stand on a field somewhere and connect? Forget your name and your business here just by connecting to the pulse of the Earth. Did you know she has one?

Do you know about the 3 o’clock wow? Are you feeling it too? Or are you cocooned by too many gs, satellites, microwaves, static interference, is your brain fried? Do you sleep at all? Do you honestly think there’s a ghost staring at you- and who’s the ghost?

We forget why we used to do what we do. Where tradition come from. We have forgotten to be curious. We don’t care. As long as we have our Apples (wrong tree, dude!) and get to check our Instagramlives.

But she keeps revealing the things underground to us. Have you noticed through these times? They are emerging from beneath our feet quivering with energy, stories and images she wants to impress us with. She has the stories. And unlike us, she never forgot. She is still eager to tell and through her many living things make everything know-able, reveal the magic to us. From the deepest geological principles to cultivating original agriculture from simply using telluric currents connecting winds and weather to help sustain growth to how to make things from simple plants. Forget plastic, forget synthetics, just forget it. Come back to life.

She laughs with eternal youth and vigor, Life is contagious in her wisdom. She holds the key still to everyone’s life here. Forget survival. Imagine LIFE. Living.

She wants to be remembered. She wants us to know again there is another way. She has never been speaking louder. She is making things come up from underneath the ground. Studying them, the stories will return. It’s there to help us get out of our sleepwalk, our ignorance, our carelessness. To make us see we have utterly forgotten. And most of us don’t know, because we never bother to get out there and feel it. Know it.

Sit in the wild for a week. Sleep on the ground. Notice sunrises, sundowns. Put your ear to the forest floor. Sit in a mound for an hour. Close your eyes. Let her speak. I dare you.