The seeds are the key. All around us now, the Earth works furiously and tirelessly to create the seeds that will become next year, without which there would be no next year. I have pointed out many times that unlike man who plants in the springtime, Nature always plants in the Fall. This year finds her doing the same thing she always does. I bow in gratitude and thankfulness.
But there is something different. There are new seeds, and they do not come from the Holy one. They are ugly seeds, misshapen and swollen. Crippled and putrid. Bearing a terrible secret, a storage of unnatural and chaotic energy. Forged in a sterile environment by a gloved hand and a masked face. Pored over by greedy eyes and blackened hearts bent on disturbing the sublime balance, on plunging the world from order and beauty back into chaos and corruption.
The grotesque new seeds pulse with perverse energy that rips and tears and gnashes. The snakes in the grass carry them and deposit them one by one. The Lady instantly recognizes their foul nature, and all the seeds she creates also know the imposters for what they are. But the people . . . the people do not. They have become lost. They cannot tell what is a bad seed and what is a good seed. Those of reptilian nature who serve chaos, they count on this and, as Blake said, they “sunnรจd it with smiles and with soft deceitful wiles.”
Have a care, then, as you plow the furrows of your mind and the fields of your heart, readying as it were your soul-soil for new growth in this important season. Be watchful for the reptile as he attempts constantly to deposit his ugly seed in your soul, which will suck out your very existence as it grows and consumes you. Nightly as you intoxicate yourself against the blaring and jagged lies being hurled at you continually during the day, as you fall into a semi-trance to escape the pain of having to be constantly vigilant, watch for the snake as he whispers his own soft deceitful wiles. “It is just one compromise . . .”
And expel him! Regurgitate his ugly seeds filled with lies and hatred waiting to grow within you. Heave out the constrictive snake, the wealthy boa, who would squelch your freedom. Spit out the vile and twisted growth of imprisonment. Give them no quarter. Chase them to the far ends of the Earth and hack them to pieces.
Protect your mind from those who would enslave you. Protect your heart from those who would siphon your goodness and kindness. Protect your personality from the reptiles who would force you to conform and obey. Do not accept their cold and twisted seeds of death. Even one seed—just one—will eventually gnaw a hole through your innards, its twisted fruit slithering away after having consumed all you have to give.
Hang on to what you know is right. Look to the natural world. Look to the seasons as they roll on in perfect harmony and timing. Fall in with their cadence. Accept the goodness of abundance when it is here and the scarcity of the season of peaceful death when it comes. Force nothing. All brilliance and beauty and life will come back in its time to the Earth, to your heart, to your mind, and to your soul as it has always done from the beginning of time.
And stand guard! Always. Should you find something, however infinitesimally small, that does not hold up to the Truth of the natural world—to the forest and the streams and the ocean and the animals—cut it out from you and burn it to oblivion.
