Category Archives: Planting Seeds
I have spent my days at the Abbey sitting in the orchard with books I have borrowed from the vast library, sharing apples with Tinker and feeling at peace with the world. This is such a beautiful place. A stream runs through the orchard, where I bathe my feet and dip my hands and watch the minnows darting around my fingers.
I have been rereading Arthurian legends, and I also found a couple of books about runes. Runes are fascinating. I like to make my own out of pebbles, clay, crystals – something in these ancient symbols is so mysterious and bewitching.
My favourite is Raido, which means Wagon, and to Ride, and is a general symbol for travel. If I add Raido (R) to my own name, it becomes Grail, and I am indeed a questing soul.
The cup I seek is the Cup of Creativity. Is this the true Grail, from which all things flow, the Cup which holds the secrets of creativity for all who dare to drink from it?
The runic equivalent of G is Gebo, the Gift – the Grail is the Gift, for those who seek it, your own unique gift, for we all have one. To seek the Grail is to seek your gift, your true self. The runic symbol for Gebo is a cross – a kiss, a symbol of faith? The Holy Palmer’s Kiss was exchanged between souls who knew each other as they passed.
A is Ansuz, which means God, Creativity – so as I seek my Gift, as I travel in quest of the Grail, I am seeking God – the wellspring of creative fire.
I is Isa, Ice, a cold little rune frozen in time. Isa is said to be derived from the Germanic word Isan, meaning iron – but it is also the Muslim equivalent of Jesus, and is believed to be the name of a Finnish Goddess. Wherever it came from, in the runic alphabet it means alone, standing still, frozen in time. Sometimes that is just how I feel. I know my quest is often lonely, and I have often felt cold and frightened.
But finally there is L, Laguz, water, flow, the endless flow of creativity, running like water over rocks, flowing like rivers to the boundless ocean…
So when I feel alone I go back to the source, as I have come back to the Abbey. I drink deep of the waters, feel refreshment running through my tired body and mind, listen to the voices of my companions rippling like water over river stones, and know that I am not alone anymore on my quest. As the minnows gather around my hands, I remember that others have gathered here as well, seeking the Grail, as I have done.
In my cupped hand, the water sparkles…perhaps I had the Grail all along.
And so it was that we settled into the Abbey, and of course the Abbess was as gracious and peaceful as ever. An aura of serenity seemed to surround this place eternally, and it was wonderful, after the highs and lows of the journey to the mine. Orlando was pleased to have a view of the lake and the green lawns, and set Max chirping on the stone windowsill in the sun, golden yellow. And I was pleased to find some unicorn inspired tapestry that I hadn’t finished from last time I was here. There was a rich mustard coloured silk wall hanging, depicting scenes of a renaissance garden, brimming with life. And there was also a cryptic note on the oak sideboard, from the Abbess, suggesting I go down to the greenhouse and see what was there. For it was spring, she said, time to plant seeds. I ventured out in the late afternoon sunlight. Past shimmering gold trees and myriad coloured flowers I wandered, and pressed open the door of the glass encased greenhouse. Inside, a packet of seeds lay on a workbench among the pots and garden stakes, and I knew they were for me. They were mustard seeds, I read, brushing the dust from the packet, “Lemurian Abbey – Abundant Magic Mustard Seeds”. The Abbess had signed them as to their authenticity so I knew they were genuine. The meaning of them was clearly printed beneath the hand drawn picture, of leafy bright mustard, fully grown. They were for abundance. I filled a pot with Enchanteur’s special soil and pressed the small, brown spheres into the dark earth. Then I set the terra cotta pot on the window sill. And of course the process was repeated, until all the seeds were used up, and a line of pots rested in the late, golden, afternoon sun at the Abbey greenhouse.
(copyright Imogen Crest 2006.)
I found a rich. fecund corner of the Gardens, ready for my Dream Seeds from Mme. La Enchanteur. I opened the packet of seeds and was not surprised to see that every seed had the miraculous, innocent face of a newborn babe.
There was a tiny girl, dimples popping in and out as she nurses at a loving breast. She has silken waves of deepest chestnut, and dark eyelashes fanning on her rosy cheeks. Tiny pink fingers curl in utter trust around a loving, tender finger.
A little boy, mischief already writ on his sweet face. He is smiling and laughing as he is fed warm baby food. He is chubby enough to be endearing, but not so heavy as to be overweight. His blonde hair stands up in spikes full of food, and deep blue eyes watch in anticipation as a spoon full of food swoops into his waiting mouth. His arms wave and feet kick energetically and he bounces in the high chair.
Another girl with brown black masses of hair and moss green eyes reaches for loving arms as she babbles happy nonsense syllables up at her father’s adoring face.
Twin boys, two sides of the same coin sleep in their crib, with their hands intertwined as they were in the womb. One small form stirs restlessly and the other’s hand tightens in reassurance, and both of them slide into the deep sleep of a baby that knows it is welcome, and wanted.
A solemn-faced little girl, snuggled in her mother’s lap, rapt in the sound of her ‘Goddess’s’ voice as she reads a story slowly. Both of them are lost in this moment of oneness, forging even deeper bonds than were created in the womb.
I plant each seed with love, and bless all of them with the Goddess’ protection. When I am finished I leave the dream seeds behind me, and never look back.
I will leave these dreams for another woman who yearns for a child. The Goddess has other plans for me, I am now Crone, the third face of womanhood. The giver of knowledge and healing, I am comfortable in this role, and almost relieved that I am become thus.
The word ‘Menopause’ holds no fear, only a bit of surprise, I do not feel old enough to be in menopause, all the same, I accept this with calm, and finding a deep peace, freed of a gnawing want that would not lie quiet.
In the back of my choir loft are some tall windows letting in the warm southern sun. I have packages of seeds of varieties that are unknown to me. The instructions are unusual too– no directives for the usual amounts of water, sun and soil– but strange commands for ample water drawn from the nutrient-laden well of my soul, loam properly stirred and warmed by the duende spirit, the light of inspiration from above, and the Divine breath for the proper circulation of air. Daily attendance to the seedlings would be an absolute necessity for no growth can be insured if the pots are neglected. Not having a particularly green thumb, I will be careful to follow the directions to the letter.
I also assembled my gardening tools: observation, insight, composition and metaphor, and a very sharp pair of shears to prune away superfluous words and ramblings.
I prepared the pots and finished by inserting the seed packet labels into each pot so I could identify the growth I know will eventually come forth– stories laden with sumptuous descriptions, characters of depth and insight, lively dialogue, and messages of profound meaning.
If I take care and nurture these seedlings, then the results, I know, will be bounteous.
Image and text: Lori Gloyd (c) 2006
Dream Seeds for the Abbey
by Heather Blakey
Travellers will recall that le Enchanteur marked New Year by planting Dream Seeds at Riversleigh Manor
She told people to choose a blank seed packet from the box on the table in the garden shed.
More dream seeds are available for residents in the Abbey. There will be enough for everyone.
Take the time to reflect and consider what you hope will blossom from your work in the Abbey. Design the seed packet, label it and plant one of Enchanteur’s dream seeds into a pot filled with some of the composted soil they have down in the greenhouse.
Go out and buy a small pot and plant some seeds. Put this in a sunny spot and ake care of it over the coming months. Keep a record of the seed’s journey. At the same time look for signs that the seed you planted in the pot in the Abbey is flourishing as well.
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