Automatic Writing 2/6/2017

In the morning I wake up and make coffee and read news about the burning of the world. The burning of my country. The trampling of my flag. The muddying of ideals. The way we've fallen into pettiness and strife. In the morning I drink my coffee and stare out my window at a gray winter sky. The clouds hang low. The wind blows cold. There is frost on the glass. Steam rises from my coffee. In the morning I remember the spring that is coming. The grass that will be growing. I think of the times that are coming and a light fills up inside of me. There is goodness and joy coming soon. Our hearts will be in bloom, and we could walk down the rows of them one by one and bite into them and feel the juices run down our chins like watermelons or peaches or pears and the lovely fruits of our lives are not things you can see or hold or touch or taste but they are things you can love. The fruits of our lives are not our children but the things our children learn from us. I cannot wait to stand with you in the sunshine my darlings.  I cannot wait to stand with you in that bright burning light on green grass and I'll wear a wide brimmed hat, because I don't have hair and I'll wear my old jeans and together we'll kneel in the dirt and pray to the Goddess, Mother Earth. We'll make our prayers into plants and we'll plant rows and rows of prayers to glorify her name in our hearts. We'll plant rows and rows of prayers to sing her praises. Dirt under our nails, sweat on our backs and chest. Oh that is the song I want to sing on this cold winter morning. The song of a spade turning the earth. The song of birds singing in the trees. The song of insects humming. Birds Sing. Bees Sing. Earth Sing. Sky sing. Love sing. Hope sing. Dirt sing. Then when we have planted all that we will the sky will open up it's heart and pour gentle rains on us and blow gentle winds on us and we can stand under the roof on the porch and drink fragrant green tea and stare at the garden of our love our love for our mother our love for the dirt our love for the earth the goddess who holds us to her heart before she sets us down before we run away into the dark oh how I love her oh I feel her golden breath on the back of my neck I feel her arms grip me close and the song that she whispers into my ear is my life it is a phrase of love between the earth and my soul between all that is and my soul and that is my life. I think about this as I sip my coffee in the morning and stare out at the grey winter sky.