A Harvest of Presence
"It's an oasis!" - "I feel like I'm back in Costa Rica." - "It reminds me of Hawaii." - 
"Hydrangeas don't bloom in Florida!" - "Your garden always makes me feel good."
said friends, strangers, or neighbors walking past our garden. It
began simply enough as a six foot plot of earth with a Pygmy Palm in the
middle of it. Then a family of Sandhill Cranes looking for grubs
expanded it to eight feet. Their search for food compelled us to do
something with the mound of now bare soil they'd overturned.
The teachings on Nature by Sufi mystic Inayat Khan came to mind. He said, "There is only one holy book. It is the sacred manuscript of Nature and it is the only scripture that can enlighten the reader." He went on, "All scriptures, before Nature's manuscript, are just little pools of water before the ocean." His teachings on Nature blended easily with our own practices on Mindfulness. In that perfect alignment of being present in the moment "The Garden" came into being.
It didn't come with instructions on what to plant. So we just sat with it intuitively.
Using mindfulness techniques we were present to every nuance it
revealed. We felt the warm humid atmosphere in and around the area. It
was a vibrant place filled with insects and birds. Digging into the
soil we saw tan-colored dry sand and black moist clay battle for
dominance. Mindful tilling uncovered earthworms everywhere that were
helping to aerate the soil with long trenches. Sadly, they also fed the
white Ibises that arrived in flocks every morning at dawn. A few
earthworms usually escaped the long curved bills which probed deep
inside their trenches. It was nature teaching about life.
Days settled into weeks and then months as we prepared the planting bed. We planted by season, consciously watching the direction of the sun's angle to the garden. We saw how its progression across the sky brilliantly lit the garden or where it left shadows from the palm. The sun guided which plants would work best. But it was the flowers that told us what to do. We were present to each one of
them in their growing season, selecting glorious shrubs and annuals in a riot of colors.
We spent our days digging, spading, fertilizing, watering, and pruning. We talked to the plants if they were stressed, assuring them all was well. We praised the ones that produced the most brilliant blossoms, telling them how remarkable they were. When experts assured us we couldn't grow roses in the heat of Florida we shrugged pointing to the pink, yellow, or red long stemmed beauties. "Tell them!" we said.
Every morning we made a daily pilgrimage into the garden. We admired each plant, propping up some dirt around the base of one, removing a twig that had fallen on a flower, or cutting off a dead branch. We touched their leaves in silent homage. We hovered over a new seedling like expectant mothers. We showered gratitude and appreciation for each one of their unique expressions. In time we came to realize working the garden had become it's own form of meditation - a most natural and easy form of direct communication with nature.
Inayat Khan said every leaf is a page that contains divine revelation. In the ten seasons as caretakers of the garden it's taught us how to read the manuscript of Nature. The manuscript showed there was a cycle of birth, growth, and death in every entity. While plants do grow tall and burst with flowers, soon those flowers die, their seeds feeding the birds. But always, life continues. Some seeds that fall to the ground become seedlings. In time, those seedlings become mature plants with new flowers, repeating the cycle of birth, growth and death. The plants were no different than the Sandhill Cranes who returned every spring, laid eggs, hatched their babies and taught them how to feed on grubs and earthworms, often in our garden.
Nature is a fully balanced organism. It doesn't really need humans. But humans need it. It transports us to a place outside ourselves. It gives us the space to slow down and to appreciate the magnificent colors and scents that can alter our moods. It teaches us about birth, life and death. It allows us the freedom to become at peace with this knowledge. And it bestows its bounty on those who take the time to let it. The Garden is a Harvest of Presence moments. All one must do is practice presence and patience and listen.
"Hydrangeas don't bloom in Florida!" - "Your garden always makes me feel good."
said friends, strangers, or neighbors walking past our garden. It
began simply enough as a six foot plot of earth with a Pygmy Palm in the
middle of it. Then a family of Sandhill Cranes looking for grubs
expanded it to eight feet. Their search for food compelled us to do
something with the mound of now bare soil they'd overturned. The teachings on Nature by Sufi mystic Inayat Khan came to mind. He said, "There is only one holy book. It is the sacred manuscript of Nature and it is the only scripture that can enlighten the reader." He went on, "All scriptures, before Nature's manuscript, are just little pools of water before the ocean." His teachings on Nature blended easily with our own practices on Mindfulness. In that perfect alignment of being present in the moment "The Garden" came into being.
It didn't come with instructions on what to plant. So we just sat with it intuitively.
Using mindfulness techniques we were present to every nuance it
revealed. We felt the warm humid atmosphere in and around the area. It
was a vibrant place filled with insects and birds. Digging into the
soil we saw tan-colored dry sand and black moist clay battle for
dominance. Mindful tilling uncovered earthworms everywhere that were
helping to aerate the soil with long trenches. Sadly, they also fed the
white Ibises that arrived in flocks every morning at dawn. A few
earthworms usually escaped the long curved bills which probed deep
inside their trenches. It was nature teaching about life.Days settled into weeks and then months as we prepared the planting bed. We planted by season, consciously watching the direction of the sun's angle to the garden. We saw how its progression across the sky brilliantly lit the garden or where it left shadows from the palm. The sun guided which plants would work best. But it was the flowers that told us what to do. We were present to each one of
them in their growing season, selecting glorious shrubs and annuals in a riot of colors. We spent our days digging, spading, fertilizing, watering, and pruning. We talked to the plants if they were stressed, assuring them all was well. We praised the ones that produced the most brilliant blossoms, telling them how remarkable they were. When experts assured us we couldn't grow roses in the heat of Florida we shrugged pointing to the pink, yellow, or red long stemmed beauties. "Tell them!" we said.
Every morning we made a daily pilgrimage into the garden. We admired each plant, propping up some dirt around the base of one, removing a twig that had fallen on a flower, or cutting off a dead branch. We touched their leaves in silent homage. We hovered over a new seedling like expectant mothers. We showered gratitude and appreciation for each one of their unique expressions. In time we came to realize working the garden had become it's own form of meditation - a most natural and easy form of direct communication with nature.
Inayat Khan said every leaf is a page that contains divine revelation. In the ten seasons as caretakers of the garden it's taught us how to read the manuscript of Nature. The manuscript showed there was a cycle of birth, growth, and death in every entity. While plants do grow tall and burst with flowers, soon those flowers die, their seeds feeding the birds. But always, life continues. Some seeds that fall to the ground become seedlings. In time, those seedlings become mature plants with new flowers, repeating the cycle of birth, growth and death. The plants were no different than the Sandhill Cranes who returned every spring, laid eggs, hatched their babies and taught them how to feed on grubs and earthworms, often in our garden.
Nature is a fully balanced organism. It doesn't really need humans. But humans need it. It transports us to a place outside ourselves. It gives us the space to slow down and to appreciate the magnificent colors and scents that can alter our moods. It teaches us about birth, life and death. It allows us the freedom to become at peace with this knowledge. And it bestows its bounty on those who take the time to let it. The Garden is a Harvest of Presence moments. All one must do is practice presence and patience and listen.
Jo Mooy - September 2015
predictions for the year pointed to more turmoil with extremists and
terrorists of various persuasions running roughshod over others. How
can this be? All over the world there are groups praying for peace,
for a change in human hearts, or for a better way of life. Yet, their
sparks of light get lost in all the dark and dreary events in the news.
What can we do?
spiritual centers. One worked with the oceans and her inhabitants. A
few taught "earth ways" in their practices while others led
meditations. All of them responded to the call, knowing that on this
day, in this season of balance, the sound of their prayers would fill
the ether, and the discerning would hear it. They knew in this brief
moment of balance, the extremes of black and white would neutralize for a
few days, and they would influence the outcome.
more specifically, in the northern Native American tribes, the Mothers of the Clans were held in sacred reverence. These Clanmothers were the historians, the faith-keepers, spiritual advisors, and the ones who chose tribal leaders. They served in rituals, ceremonies, medicine and spiritual events. As life-givers, their role was keeper of the culture and history of the tribe. 
the twelve astrological signs. As we approach 2012, the dates have become energetic focal points for people to come together.
general consensus that something unique is happening at this time on earth and we need to step up our intentions of purpose and good-will. Global communications via the internet or television show us daily how old systems and ways of thinking are collapsing. New scientific telescopes trained on the solar system and the galaxies dissolve old beliefs and enlighten us with information about the origin of the universe and our place in it. If nothing else the new findings stir great debate about our cosmology. 
ourselves from the chaotic mind. On 10.10.10 we invoke the guidance of self-mastery. On 10.10.10, we join in ceremony with others who are also called to hold the time sacred. On 10.10.10 we rise above our limitations and affirm that we are much more than we have ever been. On 10.10.10 we open our hearts in loving compassion, for our own self-healing and for that of the planet.
Spring Equinox to dedicate the four foot 
Holy space was set by toning two large Tibetan Gongs during the smudging. Then the heartbeat of the Mother Drum sounded as many walked the labyrinth. Some of the original Anchors of the Prism held the directional positions while Reverend Zan Butterfly Deerwoman opened the portals for the guides, spirits, totems and ascended masters to join us from the unseen world to the seen world. The children of the Prism and the Peace Poles (Ian and his sister Mikayla, Jeremiah and his sister Akaysiiyah) lit the ceremonial candles honoring the directions and the ancestors.
We knew this would be not only a powerful ceremony but also that the 
energy would be very spiritual. In preparation for it, a special 9" quartz crystal was purchased so that it could be displayed on the altar with the Mandala. Representative of the original Prism of Light, it was placed at the base of the mandala throughout the ceremony. This crystal held and gathered the combined energies and blessings of all those in the circle. Thirty-six hours later, when picking up the quartz crystal from where it had been placed on our personal altar at home, it shifted very gently and separated into two identical pieces, looking like a pair of perfect book-ends. The two sides can be placed together revealing no separation, yet they can be pulled apart into two distinct pieces. 
For all those who made this ceremony sacred, none of this could have been accomplished without your help, either as participants or as attendees. Thank you to everyone who heard the call and participated - 
Deerwoman