Swan Sanctuary

In recent news that I read, researcher Steven Jacobsen revealed that another ocean lies inside of our Earth, approximately 700 kilometers below the surface. It is said to be three times larger than all of our known oceans put together. I find this fascinating. 

Many years ago, I read the well known novel, by Jules Verne, Journey to the Center of the Earth. I thought as I was reading it, that it seemed quite plausible, until I reached the ending of the story. The protagonist was blown out through a volcano, which was far too fantastical. However, being that our planet is nearly 8,000 miles wide and about 4,000 miles to its center, we have barely scratched its surface. 

Many, many people are intrigued with outer space. To be sure, it helps us to recognize our own insignificance. I think these people are very much mistaken; though, in thinking that we were “put” on the Earth. In truth, we came out of her. She is, as native cultures suggest, our true Mother. All physical form is manifested from Earth herself. Our consciousness, that temporarily inhabits our physical form, is part of the ONE consciousness that permeates the universe and beyond. Our egos trick us into believing that our life is our own; but there really is no individual life. We are simply a tiny speck in the totality of LIFE. 

I am not sure why I am excited about the newly discovered ocean. I think it gives me a ray of hope, knowing that potable water on our planet’s surface is severely threatened from decades of human pollution. But on a more subtle and personal level, I believe as Robin Wall-Kimmerer suggests in her book, Braiding Sweetgrass: “Being a good mother includes the caretaking of water.” We begin our lives floating in a bag of amniotic water. Our bodies are made of around 60% water. Oceans cover over 70% of our planet. We are drawn to large bodies of water like the ocean, lakes, and rivers because of our deep connection to water. Water and earth are inseparable and our bodies are inseparable from both. Even after we die, our bodies return to Mother Earth, from whence they came.

I have been subscribing to a literary gardening magazine since early 2000. It was the first magazine in which I had been published. Recently, its founder, Pat Stone, retired. The magazine has been bought by a large publishing company and I just learned that I can no longer get print editions. 

The price has increased dramatically and rather than being published only four times a year (spring, summer, autumn, and winter) it is now produced monthly. I had moved and discovered that I was missing issues. I never received the usual subscription renewal offer in the mail; but I was suddenly being inundated with daily emails from the new editor. When I at last contacted them, I learned that the print edition was no longer available, so my only option is to subscribe to the online version, or drop my subscription entirely.

I like to read in bed in the evening as it helps me to fall asleep. If I wake up in the middle of the night, I read some more so that I can fall asleep faster. I am told that reading online is more environmentally friendly, although I have my doubts. Millions of worn out or obsolete electronics end up in landfills. The substances used to make the batteries are clearly not environmentally friendly. While the rest of the world becomes deeper and deeper entrenched in their phones and other devices, I prefer to limit my time on them. I dislike the way these devices lure us away from the present moment. I resent the time I must spend sorting through emails and the hours wasted while I am pulled away from the real world, often without realizing it. 

I still have a large library of books filling my bookshelves. I love to buy books to add to my collection. When my girls were young, and also my grandchildren, I frequently bought them books as gifts, in hopes of instilling in them a love of reading. It comforts me to be surrounded by books, knowing that I can pick one up whenever I want to. I often refer to my many gardening books for information. Mostly, I love knowing that I can curl up in a chair with a book or magazine and a cup of tea to sip on. But, clearly, I cannot curl up with my phone or my computer. I have tried; but it is downright uncomfortable!

This blog will be sporadic for a couple of months as I am moving yet again. When I moved in with my daughter last June and began landscaping her tiny yard, I expected it would be my last move; but my granddaughter decided to change high schools and my daughter had grown tired of her hour-long commute to work.

She put her house on the market in early February. Any house that she chose to buy in Torrington was contingent upon the sale of this one. I undertook a strategy that I had borrowed from a friend and which had worked for her and others. In meditation, I slowly moved through each room of the house thanking it for what it has provided us while we have lived here. I thanked each of the trees and plants that I had lovingly placed, in soil that I had improved. I knew that the rightful new owners would appear and that they would fall in love with it. They would appreciate and care for the new plantings and be thrilled with the newly constructed raised garden beds that are now perfect for planting in.

My heart is breaking because I have to leave the peach tree that I had planted only eight months ago. It was a labor of love. It is now on the verge of bursting into bloom. The crocus, snowdrops, hyacinths, fritillaries, and allium are timidly poking up through the mulch. It is a bittersweet sight because although the last couple of days have reached into the 70’s, snow and frost are still a likely possibility.

I am grateful that the house we will be moving into has a much larger yard with two mature cedar trees. The soil is better. Because there are fewer buildings to cast shade, the availability of the imperative six to eight hours of sun, that are necessary for most plants to thrive, is ensured. 

I have come to accept the changes that life continues to present me. The natural chaos, the breaking down, followed by rebuilding, is Nature’s way. Clinging to what was only causes suffering. I have learned to simply keep on keeping on.