It is often said that, to each ‘external’ sense, correspond an inner version.
This can be verified by anyone devoting themselves long enough, or benefitting from enough talent when it comes to watching the energies in motion while going through a sleepless night.
You’re lying there, eyes closed in perfect darkness, observing the shape-shifting magma sculpting you inner landscapes…
Instead of an inner symmetry, as referred to in the above paragraph, between inner and external senses, we should talk about deep, underground branching, extending surface stems.
So, when the inevitable reaping occurs, or when the frost of freezing winds petrifies them, their activity shall continue.
Unbridled and refined, it will unfurl the full power of its creativity under the earth’s crust.
There, plants exist as living beings. As Living being.
The analysis of ramifications leads to so much confusion in the mind of the practitionner that herbaria and catalogues are no longer relevant.
Inherently synesthetic, the one hosting those senses can listen to a smell, watch a sound, touch a colour …
Within this realm of perception, everything is but a dance.
Rather than taking part to it, one should attend.
Hypnotic by nature, this sensory dance can lead the attendee to infra-vegetable levels, where roots lose their grip. A few layers down, molten metals become the very matter feeding underground vines.
Towards the magmatic heart, the pilgrim wonders…
Are these matters real ?
Ethereal emanations or chaotic crystallisations ?
Bricks of a life
Falling back down to the forge
How long ?
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