Transference of Knowing

Seeing the tree see me

When I walk up to the broad oak, I like to place my sensing awareness into the dimension of its roots; the dimension of its roots feeling my footsteps. I like to place my knowing upon the millions of miles of exquisitely sensitive fibers. I like to remember that these extremely slender strands

perfusing the soils

are minutia teeming alive with intelligence. Transferring knowing from periphery to center. I like to feel into the constant exchange of perceptions occurring in each square millimeter.

The tree sensing me.

I like to I focus upon the apertures through which the tree is seeing me. Just like I do when I look into your eyes.

There is a connection, electric, that forms along the lines

of subtle tension drawn between consciousness focused through more than one reference point.

Not too loose, not too tight - perfectly taut in harmonic tuning.

Consciousness consciously focused. Yes, the continuum is inherently multifaceted. The question of import here is whether or not awareness has noticed its own refraction,

can appreciate its own reflections.

Hundreds of thousands of tiny golden hairs line the leaves and stalks. In this hour of the day the sun is backlighting the verdancy, and each receptive thread is illuminated. By way of these numinous strands, the plant sees me. Chemical messengers carry my meaning straight into the heart of the unfolded seed. I deepen my awareness of its continual apprehension: of my presence, of the pressure of my body on the ground, of my aroma, my energy, my intentions. Being seen in this way opens new doorways of awareness. I am changed.

This plant is a teacher. A medicine holder. A knower of the ways through which energy may flow

unobstructed

unhindered

uncontrived

through the body of life.

Their teachings blossom as molecules, gestalts pregnant with alchemical meaning.

If whale speech, another kind of gestalt, was translated into linear speech like our own - a single syllable of their toning would become days of words rent onto pages to be read one by one by one by the human, intellectual mind.

Thankfully, we too are non-linear beings of the prima materia. We are capable of resorting back to our deeper roots, into the mossy caves of embodied sensing - where our thoughts can become ephiphianic expressions of our direct cognizance.

Sometimes plants assist us in returning to unencumbered presence, through their molecular mandalas of non-resistant development.

Sometimes along the way, they offer entrainment as their primary teaching. This is what it feels like to know. Specifically: the feeling -

(Not, as some might assume, the conceptual stance the mind takes when it thinks it knows)

but the actual, direct somatic experience of knowing. The physiological melting of tension, and the suffusing of natural bliss that occurs; the intrinsic response of the body to mind focused upon its primordial intent.

To know the nature of reality.

To understand the nature of self.

To take part in the dazzling variety of form that displays itself in response to the particular lens awareness chooses to adopt.

Plants are hidden elders, demonstrating the way of abiding. One time I heard the wind whisper,

the original pointing-out instructions come from Nature itself.