I, the human, the gardener…

Each morning I wrote whatever thoughts, insights, revelations, inspirations had occurred during the puja. 

8th November, 2009

Today I felt nothing much. No connection. Maybe it was a bit late; after 6am at this time of year the sun is well up. The devas had departed. Or maybe it was because of yesterday’s mowing. The long, lush freedom of grass under the tree had been harshly severed by the machine, with its noise and haste. I felt separate, so I started weeding. I, the human, the gardener, the controller, the one who kills, and cuts, and pulls out by the roots.

I poured the water on a cornflower seedling which I had planted.

Or maybe it was because of the heat yesterday and today. The tree is in retreat, it’s gone in deep, into its own shade and shadow.

Maybe.