When we were six, we were geniuses. We had within us an innate ability to relate to the world around us at a very conscious and playful level. At this tender, young age, there is an innocence and an openness and a great wisdom. We see ourselves as a part of the whole and everything around us as a part of me.
At the age of six, our bodies and minds are quite well developed. We may be small, and we still have a lot of growing to do, but we can dance and sing and speak. We know our way around our little part of the world, yet we are still very connected to the whole and we hold fast onto our little thread in the fabric of life.
They call the age of seven 'the age of individuation' because that is when we begin to separate from the very close ties that we have with our parents. At seven, we start to come more fully into our own identity. It's almost like coming out of a dream. We wake up to who we are, separate and individual.
But while we are still just six, we are completely connected and it suits us well. We see ourselves as a part of the whole. This lets us communicate directly with our animal friends. We can feel what they feel and know their thoughts are because we share those same thoughts with them. And this is our genius, because indeed, it's true. We are all one.
And now, as humanities consciousness is rising, we are waking up to this realization. We are now beginning to see once more, as we did in our youth, that everything is a part of the same one thing. Science shows us that we are actually all fully integrated with everything else. We are totally interdependent. We all share the same atoms, both in life and in death, both while we are animate or while we are inanimate. We are a part of the same thin crust of compost that coats the surface of the earth and we rise up and dance from time to time, sometimes as a tree, sometimes as a bear, sometimes as a person, sometimes as you, sometimes as me.
So, because of this, this understanding of our oneness, I like to try and remember my six year old self, to slip back into that playful and interconnected state of consciousness as often as possible. Here I can once more be a member of the community of everything, with all of it full of life and light. When I do, the rocks, the trees, the water, the air are all willing and wanting to be my friends.
So, I invite you to join me, if you will, in this dance, together in harmony, in the present moment of now, ... and now, ... and now.
© Josephine Laing, 2016
Years ago, when I was a child, I used to like to sneak onto the golf course that was near my home after the course had closed and no more golfers were around. My friends and I would roll down the hills and frolic in the sprinklers. Often I would go alone, just to spend some time amongst the trees, the grasses and the open sky overhead. It was wonderful and I enjoyed it deeply.
To get onto the golf course, we had to scramble under the chain link fence that bordered the course on one side. We had dug a hole using some sticks and it was just large enough for us to slip through. Since we didn't want our entrance to be discovered by the greens keepers, we located it underneath a large shrub that was growing along the fence. This bush had it's boughs on both sides of the fence, hiding our hole from view. Each time, after we used it, we scattered some fallen leaves and a few sticks over it to disguise it. It worked like a charm. And it actually was charmed.
That little spot helped me to discover something quite fascinating. I had long known as a child that I could hide quite easily if I was deep inside of a little stand of shrubs. But what I hadn't known was that I could actually nearly disappear if I shifted my attention right into the shrub. This came about when I was a little older. I had taken some classes in plant physiology in college. I became familiar with the inner workings of the cambial layer, or the vascular system, which is like the arteries and veins of the plant.
In an overly simplified description, the cambium moves water from the roots up to the leaves. There, the water interacts with sunlight and carbon from CO2 in a process known as photosynthesis to create sugars. Then the cambial layer transports those sugars down from the leaves to the roots for storage and as food for the plant.
Sometimes late at night, when I was needing some time to be alone out in the beauties of nature, I would go to my secret little entrance under the fence and slip on through, so that I could be with the trees and the open sky full of stars overhead. Usually, my little hidey hole would need some freshening up, as my childhood friends and I had all moved away from home. I would find a stick and clean and re-dig it a little so I could slip under again.
This was almost like a shamanic experience, entering through a largely unknown doorway. Occasionally folks, out for an evening stroll would walk by, some of them with their dogs. My shrub wasn't very densely foliated and from the right angle, you could see under it quite easily from the street which was immediately adjacent to my little entrance. Since I didn't want to be discovered in my clandestine activities, I needed to become invisible. So, instead of focusing on the people and the dog which would always reveal my presence to them, I learned how to slip inside the body of the plant, casting my full attention into the cambial layer and streaming with my mind and the water up into the leaves, which were resting from all of their daytime activities. I would slide back down to the roots and feel the moisture deep in the soil and get busy exchanging nutrients there. People could come and go, a mere three or four feet from me, and no one, not even the dogs would know I was there.
Years later when I learned of the concept of shape shifting, I realized that I was already familiar with the principles and had experienced a beginners version of what is needed to move into that best of all possible means of camouflage by using just my attention and the focus of my mind.
This coming weekend, on Saturday, in Morro Bay, at the Ruby Dragon, I will be teaching a day-long class on plant communication. With permission from the plants, we will be doing a similar exercise to the one I have described here, traveling in our awareness into the internal environment of the plant's bodies in order to commune with them and receive communications from them. I'm hoping that you will be free to join us. To sign up call the Ruby Dragon at (805) 772-1100. Blessings to you and see you there.
© Josephine Laing, 2015
We humans have been reading the subtle communications of nature ever since time began. From the simple request of a cat wanting to be let outside to the complex structure of weather patterns, if we pay attention, we can tell what nature is saying. We can also receive intent, inspirations and even energy from nature. This does require a shift in our awareness and our beliefs. Whatever we believe is true, whether it is that the glass is half empty or the glass is half full. If we allow ourselves to believe that we can, we can! This simple but profound shift is what lets us sense subtle energies from the worlds of animals and plants.
Contemporary research has shown that plants communicate with each other, they cooperate, they eavesdrop on their neighbors, call out for help, and even nurture their young. Plants do have a social side. They behave more like animals, and thus like us humans, than we have formerly believed. They don't have eyes or ears, but they do interact with their environments, and that includes us. Not only does this happen on a purely physical level, but it can also happen on a more etheric level.
When we stand outside in nature, rooted in the present moment, we can enter our right brains. This lets us be interconnected, nonjudgemental, expansive, open, creative, subtle, nuanced, and insightful. We become filled with new and novel perspectives. This lets us realize that we are full of possibility, while being completely aware of everything around us and one with all. When we let ourselves do this we can easily hear the voices of nature.
We use our right brain all the time. When we walk, when we talk, everything that we do involves some of our right brain skills and function. But it's our left brain, our analytical brain, that is dominant in our contemporary western culture. This hasn't always been the case. Ancient peoples the world round were well adept in right brain function. They have long communed on deep and profound levels with nature. We can reclaim this skill, quite easily, if we try.
I first began this exploration when I wondered, How in the world did people of old discover the medicinal qualities of the plants around us? So I decided to go out into the garden and try it for myself. I sidled up beside a Hypericum plant and sat in meditative silence. I knew nothing about the medicinal qualities of these plants at the time. But I decided to have a go at listening. Why not? And before I knew it I was feeling things in my body, I was receiving ideas as if they had been planted in my head. I just let the Hypericum talk to me, and it was delighted to do so. To my great and pleasant surprise, everything I received was accurate.
The natural world is just waiting for us to connect. Why not step outside and give it a try? You might not be interested in medicine, but maybe you'll find that the answers to your problems, inspirations for things you'd like to do, or directions you'd like to take in life, will suddenly pop into your head. You may even find that you like it.
© Josephine Laing, 2014
