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You Grow Down in the Ground


Apples grow on trees, insects tend weeds and leaves, clouds make rain, people talk through problems.  In Nicaragua, the people have set tanks and guns in concrete, created a peace park by stopping and enclosing the machinery of war.  On the coast of Costa Rica, Afro-Caribbeans and Indigenous and Expatriates mix, create a changeling culture of Caribbean blue surf, consciousness, an ecologically fecund stew of steaming life and food.  In the mountains, cloud forests blossom and stimulate the imagination.  Rain repopulates the land, animals, and people, refreshing and restoring the swirling physical chemistry and chaos of being.  Tides, moon, mountain, city, sun.  Wide-open fire of unrepressed intellect dancing wildly among beach stones, quenched by saltwater sea, soft sand.

 

Life could be

                        lusting in the morning

                        babies blooming into individual genius

                        self-supporting forests and marshes recycling biology

                        consistent change, radically free

                        slopes of wildflower mountainsides lush with bears, bees, horses, people

                        rain shadows and canopies in the rainforest

                        vines climbing

                        roots, pebbles, algae, bacteria alive and filtering water to drinking clean

                        sun rising and setting on interdependent villages of brilliance

           

            Life could be

                        blissful and sustained

                        spiritually and physically nurturing

                        burgeoning in beauty, divergent and prolific

                        supported and encouraged in compassionate communities

                        simplified

                        wonderful

                        meaningful

 

Instead of chasing cybernetic dreams of the post-human future, why don’t we give ourselves a fiesta?  Instead of unceasing striving, we should take regular siestas.  No more attempts to toxically reproduce the inner engine of the sun here on a planet orbiting the sun.  Why not relax and enjoy the gift of the sun?  Naturally, growth proliferates.  We don’t need to hasten death with fanciful cancerous mutations.

            Students, close your textbooks.  Open your hearts.  All sorts of chittering, clambering, curiously laughing creatures are looking right back at you.  Sanguine, sage, slightly shy; hilarious, amazed, exuberant, and lush, they welcome you to neglected territories.  Look at all the luxuriant tangles!  Marbled sunlight swirls, psychedelic heartbeats whispering under the everyday mania of thoughts.  Who hears?  The eyewitness of self hovers subtly on gentle Earth winds stirring.  How could I have neglected these wondering grassroots for decades?  Lakes, oceans, liquid spaces of permeable possibilities wait, wavering, shimmering, fluctuating in a net that catches nothing.  It all streams so easily.  My hands and eyes are wet, my mouth full of water, belly full.  Satiated, there is no need to sleep or speak.  Just see.  Look at all the recurrent existence and how, after all suffering, it joyously persists.

            Here, there is no room for shrieks.  The dying come home more free, restored, whole.  Any anger that lingers is transmuted to more joy.  There will be no heroic violent retribution, no vengeful rescue from above.  Still, the roots grow.  Consciousness roots up from below.

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