Category: MUSINGS

Heart-Light Glow/Full Flower Moon: Partial Eclipse

(Every month I participate in the Treesister’s wonderful, nourishing, Full Moon Calls and journal the experience. This month my response was more visual!)

This month we were guided to ask ourselves if we were giving from empty?
It does feel like that sometimes.
And then asked if we could fill up enough to give?
To Connect, become Open and Breathe in the Love.

What part of me is needing Love?

The part of me that does not know she is loved.
The part of me I, frankly, do not Love.
A part of me that has become so wizened and hardened, like a nut.
It is difficult to prise open.
Probably rotten inside anyhow.
The part of me I find unloveable.
Undeserving of my Love.
The part with no self discipline, the lazy, self-sabotaging self.
The part of me that does not Love itself.
And hides in it’s tough shell.
Pushing all Love away.

I can see ‘her’ now , as a cartoon figure.
Overweight, mis-shapen, slouching, bad teeth, thick glasses, cracked feet.
A fag hanging off her bottom lip. Yellowed fingers, purple skin.
An ugly, crying, needy, face.

How to embrace our short comings, our weaker selves?
Do we forgive them? Explain them, make excuses for them? Tell their story? Attempt to understand them?

Those parts of ourselves we’d rather not meet.

I said ‘Hello.’

‘She’ did not reply.

Just pretended not to hear me and blew smoke/ink in my face, obviously willing me to try again.

I was not in the mood for those games.

I moved on past.

The meditation guided us in to our Hearts.
Into our Heartbeat.
Such an incredible organ.

Recieving and Giving. Recieving and Giving.
24/7.

As I listened, I ‘saw’ an image of naked women, appearing like sea creatures, curled up in child’s pose, faces to the ground? Floating in dark matter cosmos? All with glowing, changing, skin. Skin covered in chromatophores. Like a squid or octupus. Pulsing light, in unison, in the dark. As they pulsed, a mysterious, network below them pulsed Life, thier Love Energy, all through the forest floor.

I decided to try and work with this ‘vision’ and see what happened!

I set out thinking it was going to be a pen and ink drawing …. it evolved into some rather strange, digital art experiments, which bear little resemblance to the original ‘vision’!

Like ‘sketches’ for part of a performance? Sci-fi illustrations?

Here are some of the images that resulted.

Heart-Light Glow

dandelion clock as background?
kat robertson artist

Growth.

Thinking alot about Growth recently.
Reading about ideas of Degrowth.
Knowing that it is less, not more, that I need now,
But not wanting to ‘send us back to the dark ages’.

I stare out of the window.
Tree teacher.

The great Oak grows up fast in the beginning.
Then pauses to thicken.
Creating Stability.

Often it looses a lower limb or two as it stretches toward the sky.
Shedding what no longer serves.

It grows slower and wider as it ages.
Putting on rings of girth.
Not only on it’s trunk, but also on it’s branches and it’s roots.
Growing in all directions!
Building strength to ensure it’s longevity.

In years of scarcity it grows less.
In years of plenty it takes all it needs.
In it’s maturity it becomes host to other, new, Life.
Ferns and fungi, lichen and mosses.

Societal progress might do well to learn from this great tree.

Societal ‘growth’ has more in common with the growth I see in the commercial, forestry, plantations.
The fast growing, conifer, trees, all planted too close together.
They rush toward the light.
Growing thin, straight and brittle.
The ground below becoming deadened.
Little thrives there, in the acid dark, to knit it all together.

And then, when the first big wind comes along,
They uproot or snap.
Collide into one another, falling like dominos.
Each taking it’s neighbour down as it falls.

Becoming worthless as a crop.
Impossible to even harvest.

No longer possible to make sense of as ‘forest’.

So Oak teaches it is not about stopping growing.
Not about degrowing.
(Although, perhaps, we could lose a useless limb or two, that no longer serve)

It is about growth in the right places, at the right time.

Allow for more Light.
Create more Space.
With Care and Foresight,
Prune away the dead, or diseased, wood as necessary.

Like all good gardeners, cultivate more Patience.
More Awareness of Resources available.
More Awareness of what grows Beneath.

This is what makes for more Resilience.

These are lessons well worth remembering now.

Not new wisdom. As ancient as the hills.

Thank You Oak for reminding me.

Kat Robertson. May 2021.

charcoal drawing, used to create animation, in its final state.
‘Tree. Growing in all directions
, as dictated by what is available to it, by the stresses it encounters

Full Pink Supermoon.

April’s Pink Supermoon from our hill in Scotland

Every month I participate in the Treesister’s wonderful, nourishing, Full Moon Calls and journal the experience.

Response/feedback to April’s Pink Full Moon Call 2021.

“Wow! What a call!
So wonderful to feel the negative ions of the falls.
On the March call I found myself at a waterfall, one that that I knew, that called me. One with a deep, dark pool.
This one was entirely different.
Lighter, brighter, in a warmer, in a more tropical place. The pool turquoise and crystal clear. My ‘clench’ appeared to be between my shoulder blades. I experienced this feeling as stubs of new wings pushing through, not with out pain.
Yes, yes, yes to everyone’s beautiful words.
Colourful birds swooped and darted through the falling water and rainbows in the mist. Like swifts, but multi-coloured. Mesmerising me. From gazing up at them I was then drawn down to my hands in the water, in the edges of the pool, fingers spread wide like frog’s feet, my pinkies, touching the pinkies of those on either side. I was naked, squatting, the shadows of fern and leaves dappling my skin. I looked across the very surface of the pool and the birds were darting down to drink and scoop up tiny mouthfuls of mud for their nest building, only to soar up again into the misty, rainbow filled air. My eyes followed them. I paint with only mud these days and smiled as I tasted the familiar taste of earth in my mouth. I often suck my brush to make a point 😉 This squat position helped to release the clench between my should blades, Dropping my head I felt another release and stretch. I also smelt myself, my woman-hood. It was primal. The squat position with the hands down in front, brought Frog into my being. Perhaps I am tadpole, not caterpillar?
A Frog Woman poised to spring into Action. This is Activate!
Toward the end of the meditation I found myself in this same squatting position under the falling water. Like I’d effortlessly leapt there. Just allowing the water to stream over my head and body. I brought my hands around to hold my backside and hugged myself this way. I actually loved the feel of my whole, curvaceous, body this way (very positive, as I struggle with my appearance and the way I look!). I became a water-carved, rounded rock.
Stayed there for a while just letting the water flow over me, soaking up the negative ions, as the sunlight and swooping birds dazzled me with their prisms of wonder.

Felt super-connected when Clare mentioned ‘new wings’ just as I was focusing on letting them through. Also the words about ‘doors in the back behind the heart’ hit a spot deep inside me.


Using words, that seem to be going out of fashion in this accelerating transition,
Deep Bow.
Thank You again Treesisters for another, deeply nourishing, Full Moon Call xx”

Kat Robertson. April 2021. 

Full Worm Moon

Every month I participate in the Treesister’s wonderful, nourishing, Full Moon Calls and journal the experience.
This month I was astonished to recieve this as a kind of answer to my previous blog post! Divine Timing!


Full Worm Moon Meditation March feedback

‘Finally got around to listening (that somehow feels like the wrong word!? ‘Joining’ also feels a little strange, as the ‘event’ had passed ….. ‘participating’ sounds too active …..actively receiving?? ;D)
I was a mess.
A proper sludgey, cannot-get-out-of-bed, mess.
Of course the usual Earth layers, human suffering layers, but also family layers and re-awakened past trauma layers. A total ‘crisis of self’ kind of eurgh …… crying and not knowing ….. totally undone. All seemed utterly pointless. I was also resisting all that I know is good for me, typical  when I get like this. Unable to create, unable to meditate, unable to even go for a walk….I even considered calling the GP and asking for some big pharma cocktail to shut my over wound mind down, (those who know me know how very non-typical this is!), but some small voice whispered to me that I could listen to the Full Moon Call.
Treesisters, I cannot thank you enough! This guided meditation turned everything around!! Just like that!!

The landscape took a while to come clear ….. I ‘wanted’ beaches, palms and Indian blue sea, then, when that did not stick, I ‘wanted’ Himalaya, that also did not stick… then, breathing into it and letting go, I found myself in an old childhood haunt.
A stunning (actually very dangerous!) gorge and waterfall, located on my father’s farm land (some real, poetic, sense in this given part of what I was struggling with) A mossy, temperate rainforest, ‘hole in the ground’ created by eons of water carving the rock, all covered by a canopy, dome, of oak. A place where as a child I wandered, often, talking to the fairies/spirits there. (My parents had no idea!!) There are some local stories told about this place. Many say the pool is bottomless, the dark, swirling, pool at the base of the waterfall, some say there are monsters that dwell far down in the deep. I have swum there once or twice, but it is difficult to ignore the feeling that ‘something’ may be down there looking up at you, such is the power of this place!!
In the meditation I was called to enter the water and dive.
Down and down I swam. The swirling noise all left behind, the amber light dimming above, darker and darker it got. I found I could breathe and only wanted to go deeper…..deeper …. seeking the monsters? To get to the bottom of things?
A clear ‘voice’ said “Why do you do this Kat? Dive deeper and deeper? Don’t you know it is bottomless!!? There are actually no monsters, but you do know, don’t you, that you will never find what it is you are seeking? It will only get darker and darker and colder and colder. Why do you do this? Swim so determinedly away from away from the Light? Stop trying so hard!! Stop swimming!!”
So I stopped
(I have recently seen ‘The Shape of Water’ and I saw myself like that, suspended, held by the water.)
Of course, I began floating up!
Slowly, slowly, I floated to the surface toward the Light. With no effort at all..
This pool is naturally formed with a kind of rocky ‘edge’ that stops everything just getting swept along into the river, and I simply lay on my back, floating, my ears, being underwater, dulled the roar of the falls, and I floated, my front in dappled sunlight, gazing up through the branches at blue sky above, my back to the cold and dark below. I was swirled by the eddies to this side of the pool and then over to the other, a light touch of the mossy bank was all it took to propell me back into the centre, spinning me around.
I stayed like that for quite a while….just floating.
This is a long story, but I wanted to share as the effect has been so powerful! I now am using the simple words “Just float!” everytime I feel that familiar twinge of anxiety that I seem so strangely fond of then weaving into a basket of misery for myself.
I find I can vicerally, physically, recall the moment of letting go from the meditation and then feel myself gently being taken back up toward the Light!
This meditation gifted me a tool I can really use!
It is a simple tale, but it has taken many words…..
Thank You again Treesisters/Clare …. this time I can honestly report this meditation may even have been a lifesaver …… such was the darkness of that day ….. xx AHO!’

Kat Robertson. March Full Moon 2021.

The falls of my childhood and it’s bottomless pool. Last revisited 2015.
kat robertson artist

Whole Horizon

This is my world.
My whole horizon.
It is Beautiful.
And it is all that I need.
I am its only Guardian.
And this tiny world needs me.
I Care for it.
I have some agency here.
And only here.
Any illusion of becoming real in a virtual world is now dissolving like a bad dream.
A nightmare of 4 years.
Enough.

I have found a place.
Out of the wind and rain.
In the shelter of rock and tree roots.
On a bed of dry leaves and under canopy.
The moss drips at the entrance to this shelter.
Only here do I feel safe.
Watching the whirling world.
While embedded in this spot.
More in common with this tree, this soil and this rock,
than with all those glittering projections.

Breathe.
Melt into the landscape.
Go underground.
Take root.
Blend in, become invisible.
Just another tiny particle.

If that makes me inhuman,
Then humanity itself now alienates me.
I perceive, as alien, this planet from Deep Space,
With alien senses, hear the ‘hum’ of Earth,
And whispered stories
Of stars and distant universes and of our, as yet unexplored, potential.

I feel Earth’s cold and lonely passage,
I see how very precious She is.

Now I must take such care about which culture I take root in.
I choose a culture that is not ‘on screen’ and more akin to fungal networks.

The Machine now builds a ‘cage’ around the Earth and I find have become mistrusting even of our Father Sky.
Even the Air I breathe, the space around me, now polluted with our, focused, radiation.
This Fire in our oxygen is dry. So very dry. I become wizened.

If I am to be caged, then I choose this place.
For I find myself in good company among the lichens and branches.
Better to tune to their frequency and breathe their fresher, moister, air.

If this is an illness then please feel free to diagnose me.
But I will not be taking any medications, for they are only added layers of complexity and over-looked side effects.
If ‘necessity is the mother of invention’ why do we keep inventing layers we do not need?
Using more fuel to fuel our already fuel-driven lives.
Crudely drenched in the stuff.
Sometimes I see the whole world on Fire.
Sometimes I need to swim, to wash those charred layers off, to re-hydrate.
Where I go swimming I imagine rainbows are left swirling on the surface behind me.
It only takes a drop.

I do not need much.

I have found a place.
Out of the wind.
In the shelter of rock and tree roots.
Dry leaves and under canopy.
From here I can watch the whirling world.
And ride out this wild weather.

Kat Robertson February 2021

kat robertson artist

I made this gif (below) of my tiny world’s horizons, in an accelerated spin, after doing some research into NFTs. (Non-Fungible tokens).
This would make quite a good one.
I was almost persuaded by the hype, for I have much unmarketable, digital artwork, shared here, on this blog.
But, on looking into it all more deeply, when tapped, it all just has that same, hollow, ring.
I will surely become poorer for little reward and I do not like to gamble.
I work and someone else becomes richer. Same old, same old.
Painted as an ‘evolution’ I see it as another desperate grab in a dying world. Another chunk torn out of reality.
I find I am a bit charmed by the idea of it though.
All artists live in a kind of unsolvable riddle, a koan of existence.
The virtual nature of this proposition is attractive, but if I find real relief in stepping away from the screen what would possess me now to put my real money, and learning time, into a virtual, screen-based, economy!!??
It simply makes no common sense.
My digital artwork remains for sale, in high resolution, through my mandala shop, for £3.50 or so. Why would any fool be persuaded it was worth £1000’s, even if it did prove virtually marketable??
I am also, now, thanks to this ‘advance’, even more fearful of art thieves.

Today yet another marketing entrepreneur has chosen to follow this blog. I may have mentioned this before, but most of my ‘followers’ are media types (and psychiatrists!) who never comment and rarely like. No like minded community being built here. Not all, but so many ‘licking to be licked’, standing on other’s shoulders to see better, with no regard for their well being.
I saw one of these new nfts ridiculing ladies of my age/demographic, depicted riding a social media ‘rocket’, waving her lipstick and handbag.
This seems to be the general tone.
“Let’s dis the Gen X mothers, just as we make ourselves all disposable”.

As may be obvious from this post I am struggling now. I am not OK.
I was worried that I had no Love left in me, until I remembered that Grief is an expression of Love and now I find that Gratitude, for what remains and Grief, for all that is lost, are, prehaps, the only appropriate expressions. I cannot stop being an artist, but if any future, alternative, occupations become necessary I have been considering training as a death doula …… at least I would be useful……

kat robertson artist
original official Standing As Earth Banner

STANDING AS EARTH : January 13th – February 12th 2021 #standingasearth

A creative attempt to summarize/record my, month-long, participation in this remarkable project.
My original, published, ‘cool’ captions and inspiring ‘Earth quotes’ became lost to the ether when I chose to delete my Facebook account…..which is just as well….as with hindsight it seems I was not really listening…..some of my posts where only text and gone forever now ….but this is all the visual work I shared with the group….cobbled together, chronologically, and with new meaning.

It all began with Nuts.
Tree Seeds.
Those prefectly designed, well travelled, nuggets of both nutrition and potential.
(Reminded now, also. in hindsight, of an Egyptian Nut.
Daughter of vital breath and heat, a star-covered naked woman, bowed over the Earth,
With her head in the West and her feet in the East. A bridge between the Earth and the Sky.)

I wondered how this ‘tree’ would grow from there…..

kat robertson artist

The endangered red squirrel became my constant companion on this journey.
And, as always here, the Wind.

Winter Hawthorn showed me her sharp, protective, thorns…..

kat robertson artist

The Beech hedge whispered ‘Sssssh…..ssssh’……

kat robertson artist

Mole spoke to me of staying buzy, but remaining underground, unseen…..

kat robertson artist

Mosses demonstrated how to cling on and thrive, on only cold, ungiving, stone……

kat robertson artist

But I was not really listening …….
And worms writhed in the compost heap of my mind, giving birth to strange new, artifical, creatures….

kat robertson artist

I have a well-weathered head.
Colonized now by Nature.
Worn away by Time.

Still able, though, to see those ‘Spots of Light’ and bask in their Radiance.

kat robertson artist

Celebrate their Beauty.

kat robertson artist

That is, until I see when I venture out, again and again, our trashing of everything Sacred …
And I am returned to Grieving.

Yet, I was reminded, in that Darkness, there is always Light.
You only have to find new ways of Seeing.

kat robertson artist

It is Imbolc.
A time of Rebirth. Of Future. A Time of New Beginnings and Returning Light.
Humble Snowdrops blaze a fanfare.
Hope Incarnate.
Spring is on its way.

The soil gives way to green, urgent, spears of New Life, pushing up toward the Sun.

kat robertson artist

Even, inside our winter home, the houseplants put on a show of wondrous, exotic, blooms.

kat robertson artist

Out walking I was shown something weird, almost alien, something that I had never encountered before.
Sea squirts!
Earth spoke to me again of all the unseen wonders that she holds.
That Living can only ever be learning.

I cracked open my first rotten egg in a long, long time.
The smell was of Sulphur.
I learned that Humans create more Sulphur now than is released by all the Earth’s volcanos put together.
So Humans smell, to the Earth, of Sulphur too.
A smell associated with Decay.
And the breaking open of her Crust.

kat robertson artist

Then we were invited to dig deep and find our authentic Howl.
Always a tough one.

kat robertson artist

It turned out my Howl is, and has always been, my felt Impotence in affecting any real Change
Through what I am able to do, through my own unique gifts.
Earth told me it was OK to share, again, some work I have already done.
For it is Work that has not lost Value through Age.
Just as I have not lost Value.

kat robertson artist

Work created when I first began to Give the Earth a Voice online.
(Though, at that time, I thought I was Alone in doing so.)

kat robertson artist

Sharing this Work, reminded me that I have been Standing here a long, long Time already.
And brought home how committed I am to doing it still.

kat robertson artist

Still.
Rarely witnessed and, in the main, uncelebrated.

kat robertson artist

As undeserving of applause as a weed in a lawn.
A rock, the moss or a twisted tree.
A sea squirt.
Or a hooded crow.
This is not a show.

kat robertson artist

A creature of magik and alchemy.
Who no longer needs to shout out “I am here!”
Because, in the course of this experiment, the only One who really matters told me that:

She Loves me,
that She is Sorry,
that She Forgives me
and is Grateful for all that I do.

And when I heard that back….

I just Let Go.

I AM HOME

and that is where you’ll always find me.

Still Standing.

Kat Robertson. Standing As Earth. Imbolc 2021



I am staring at this screen.
How to condense the Experience?
It’s impossible!
The above barely scratches the surface.
Now only recorded in pages and pages and pages and pages and pages
of messy, scrawled notes, avid, crazed, chanelled, journalling …processing …..too much to edit.

And this trail of shared artworks.

I have deleted my Facebook account.
Deleted all social media accounts.
I am too much to edit.
It was Earth that called me to withdraw from all that fight to be seen.
The fight to feel heard.
While I celebrate all who are able to continue this work of being visible online.
Who have those skills.
I have become exhausted from trying to find new ways to say such a simple thing.
There simply are no words left in my limited vocabulary.

I can tell you how I felt when I first saw the online invitation.
YES! YES! What a brilliantly simple idea!
Let’s ALL Stand AS Earth.

————————————————————————————————————————————————


Earth, my true Nature, guides me now to simply write of the WEATHER during this month long experiment #standingasearth on Facebook.

The Weather of Standing As Earth

It began with a, freezing, Siberian Wind that howled from the East.
Screaming over vast, populated, landmasses,
Carrying all that stale air,
To meet the ocean
Here.
All the way from China, it came hurtling through, at tree-breaking ,wave-hurling, speed,
Onward over the Atlantic, toward the East Coast of the Americas.
It was hard, sometimes, to Breathe.
The Land became hard too, as iron.
It’s Life Blood frozen.
Impermanent diamonds grew in the Mud.
And the Trees grew hair of Ice.
Until the very Dryness turned it all to Dust.
Dust that came Alive, like dervishes, like dancers,
Rising, with the gusting wind, up from the Ground.
Gritty in my eyes.
Making me Cry.

And then it Snowed.
And all became Still and Silent.
And all became Clear and Sharply defined.
Blueish and Breathtaking.
The Light alone, a sensory orgasm.

And then, it all, inevitably,
Thawed.

The winds have never stopped blowing.

They are blowing still.
They have just swung around a bit and radically changed direction.

I found I had been blown off course.

I found myself, full circle, called back into the Mystery.

I found I was, already, HOME.


Kat Robertson. Standing As Earth. Imbolc 2021

“Ssssssh…..Sssssh….” EARTH

My last post on Facebook, after realising I felt I had shared way too much, and deleting my account, was this.
It hangs on the wall of my ‘artden’.
And, while not my own words, says all I really have left to say of any worth.
My continued prayer is only that more of us will find this Truth and try their very best to LIVE BY IT.
And each find their own ,unique, Balance.

(N.B. I have only just realised that when a person deletes their Facebook account, they disappear, also, from all groups. As if they had never been there at all. I experience a deep sadness about that, as I fell in Love, with new brothers and sisters, and Earth, over and over again, during this month of participation …….. despite not joining in on Zoom! Now guided just to rest in the Knowing that we are, all connected, through the Forest floor. )

‘Co-Creation’

I was invited to join a visionboard group.
The idea being to create a visionboard for 2021.
It triggered some deep thinking.
Not really sure what I want exactly.
More about what I do not want!
Haunted by the word ‘less’……

Then I dumped all the, pages and pages, of journalling and automatic responses and just let it flow, as a digital collage.
Not something I have tried before.
Grabbing images from the internet and building them up using photoshop….

Key words for this were BIRTH, GROWTH and COSMOS.

A member of the group commented “A lovely image for Christmas. Especially these days when Earth Consciousness needs to be reborn. I love the ‘digital’ pun.”

I did not think about the Christmas angle…..hope the pun he also sees is the cosmic, super nova, vagina and human doulas idea!

I decided to title it ‘Co-creation’ after that…

(Note: I know I have used other artist’s work uncredited here….not something I do as a rule….but I hope they will forgive me, just this once, as the process was fast, intuitive and fluid…and it would take me hours to unwind it and credit all the talented photographers and artists that got woven into this piece! It was ‘flashed ‘on Facebook, but I do not intend using it anywhere else. So “Thank You!” is all I can say….)

Oh and they are all doing another round, so please visit ‘Create 2021 Visionboard Challenge‘ on Facebook if you fancy a having a go yourself!

To the Top.

I pushed the curtains back as I closed the bedroom window.

There was snail on the ceiling!

We live in a two storey building, this was on the top floor

I tugged the snail off the plaster, intending to return it to the garden.

The shell was dry and empty.

Just a beautiful shell, still ‘stuck’ to the ceiling.

I wonder what possessed this little creature.

To climb higher and higher.

Further away from the lush, dewy, green below.

Wonder at it’s epic, futile, journey to ‘the top’.

At how it crept, into the dry, heated, air of the house, through the open window, and just stopped there.

Hanging, improbably, upside-down.

Defying gravity.

At those last days. Spent in absolute stillness.

Just, slowly, drying out.

I wonder at how there is no part of it’s soft body left.

Nothing at all.

Just a clean, hard, spiralling, empty shell for me to find.


An object, if made by an artist, I would marvel at in a gallery.

This little snail’s legacy.


Kat Robertson. October 2020

Sunflower teachings.

Most know that I prefer natives,
but what child can resist giant sunflowers.
Gifted some seed, up they shot.
Charging for the sun.
One was the tallest I have ever grown.
But this pride came before a fall.
As late summer gales began to blow.
I watched, through the window, as it swung wildly.
So I staked it.
I thought I was helping.
But the gusts beheaded it.
Snapped.
Right at the tie.
If I had left it alone, given it the freedom to move with the wind,
I think it would have survived.
So often this is the case.
We think we are helping, but all we are really doing is curbing her responsive wildness,
Weeding out her repairs, re-routing her rivers, deciding what we think is best for her.
When will we ever learn?
I put the tight, architectural, bud in a vase.
Blow me! It still fought to flower, to thrive.
I cheered it on.
Turning the bloom to face the sun when it came out.
But to no avail.
Eventually it gave up.
And drew back in.
Disconnected from the Mother, it shrivelled and died.
No future. No seed. Without soil.

Meanwhile, out in the garden, the others survived more storms.
With no support from me.
Such autumnal JOY!

Most interesting to note was how the same seed, the same pot grown seedlings, when planted else where, grew in proportion to the pot/conditions available.
Would that we would learn to do the same!

Daydreaming of Giant country folk and Lillipution city dwellers.
Remembering those wee, hardy, land carved, Picts with the, famously, tiny doors…..

Our western children, statisically, are all growing bigger and taller.
More of them too.
Growing like those other plants, artifically reared, under perfect lights with perfect food.
At what cost??

Cannot help but see the whole of humanity in this tall sunflower’s teaching.

Disconnected from Mother we will not thrive indefinitely.

Artficially nourished, all growing too big for the space we are afforded, taking from elsewhere, we grow out of balance with all that sustains us.

When will we ever learn?