The book I began in late 2011, and spent 2012 finishing, (or so I thought) turned out to be the seeds of a trilogy. The overlighting title is EdenWold: Tales from the New Earth. I began the rewrite last September after leaving my inspirational 27 year garden Edenlight under duress. I have written previously how that the preceding year of pain forced me to understand the implications of strong attachments and surrender. Have I learned to cherish pain and disappointment? Not really. Is my life any less meaningful? No. Is it more magical? Yes.
In EdenWold, Book One: In the Beginning, we are introduced to a nucleus garden, and a number of actual and once believed mythological creatures who experience the initial stages of the new world. Book Two: Being the Becoming, expands the geography and diverse personalities and properties of EdenWold, and ends with an expedition via Dragon to explore beyond the ever expanding borders of Edenholm where the story began. Early in Book Three: Worlds Without End, the expedition encounters its first colony of humans.
As I don’t have a place to create sculptures and the other art that defined much of my experience at EdenLight Garden, my creative inspirations and subsequent joy have been channeling through these books. I experience them in a kind of internal 3D, including color and sound, mostly while in a variety of favorite or newly discovered magical places in nature; often a nurturing tree.
I will share here two experiences from this past week that demonstrate the synchronicity of this ongoing experience.
Along one of the trails I commonly walk near where I’ve opened a 30 ft. diameter Heaven/Earth portal on a wooded knoll, I always stop and visit with an enormous Madrone tree who I call Mama Madrona. The biggest Madrone I’ve ever found. I’ve been hugging and talking to her for months, always feeling that visceral flow of Earth Peace from her. She is huge and magnificent. With some trees I have dialogues, but not yet with Mama Madrona. This week I commented to her that while I wasn’t aware of any conversation from her, I could certainly feel her love. Only now I heard her voice: “That’s all I’ve been giving you.” I decided that was pretty good, and not to push it.
Two days later, I was walking with a friend named Evy at a different nature preserve called Rush Creek, where there is a good sized lagoon with herons, egrets, ducks, swans and other air or waterborne life. As I was relating the details of a chapter I had written the same morning, featuring some magic that the illusion-dispelling dragonflies and damselflies had performed for the humans and their Edenholm guests – particularly by a group of sapphire colored damselflies – Evy and I were escorted for about a quarter mile around the west side of the lagoon by an entourage of blue sapphire colored damselflies who remained criss-crossing back and forth directly in front of us the entire way.
Needless to say, it was a profound demonstration of synchronicity, and a surreal, but entirely vivid joy, for both of us. There was no question that our joy and conscious gratitude were key ingredients in the experience.