Earth Spirit been chatting with the Old Ones…..

You know there were a lot of wise souls who walked the earth but people were not always ready to listen to them. Its always the same, the timing has to be right for people to stop and listen. They are distracted by their lives their struggles their important things. How ironic that much of those problems would no longer exist if they but stopped and listened.

They walk past the birds in the hedgerows as they sing, so full of their own chatter to each other and in their own heads. A constant flow of words and ideas much of which will never amount to anything

How they miss what nature has to say, how the tunes and voices of reason and knowledge are lost on the wind. Carried far away for another day, another time, or another life

Daydreaming they say is wrong is for simple folk, from long ago. They know not of what they talk, those dreams were handed down n the folk art and lore. They tell of nature and man, and all that is dear. They stoke the fire of thought of great knowledge and truth. Of the things long abandoned to the new. They fall like dreams upon barren lands, waiting for the nourishment to come alive. They sit dormant but still inside, waiting for the awakening of man.

Yet he snores and roars and will not rest, he will not hear what he was told. Blinded by the new light he sees not the sun at dawn and the setting of the great sun at night. He rushes about with the haste of the lost, searching for love and life. When all about him is the answer, the wind in the trees of which we always talk. The sky in its blue hues and white clouds of shapes of hope. The flowers that grow all about and the caves that sit vacant. The fire is no more, its been banished from its life giving properties, its flames of vision extinguished as man’s vision has too been forbidden. The flames brought the knowledge of the forebearers the stories of the times before man. It held the secrets of more than the times that are upon you now.

In the aches the stories were laid to rest, scattered on the earth with their scent of goodness and holding their gold. No longer hot embers they blew as dust on the wind and as dry as deserts.

Man is left with nothing but ash, the knowledge burnt out and left untold.

He huddles around his new devices of old news and propaganda. The old ways are lost as man himself is now lost. Caught in his new world trap of information and games played by others hands and not natures. He cowers in fear, and never knows what is the truth, spoon fed by mindless unknown faces. They track his movements across nations, they track each communication. Never a moment alone now to hear the sound of the nature places. Hurry on he must for he will miss the bus, or the plane or the train or his own devices.

Look into his hands they are empty, empty of voices that once he would have heard. Knowledge drained and polluted, all the nutrients depleted. He holds his hands up wanting more, but can never fill the voids that have been created.

He has thirst but knows not for what, he is lost from the spaces that once he did stop. Devoid of the understanding and connection of the places that he would once love. His smile has been replaced with a frown of confusion and there is no one near. He sits alone with his devices plugged into his ear. Voices telling him just what to feel, how to behave now and when to be ill. He is blinded and deafened by the noise of the future, pushed forward so quickly he forgets the ways of his ancestors. They call him from afar, but he can no longer hear, his head full of noises and the new fear. He rushes forward with no idea, just where he is going or what to hold dear. Blundering forward in continuous motion, missing everything trustworthy along the path. The rails he has chosen all head in one direction, no diversions or alternatives are provided.

The further he goes down the tracks to the future, the further he is going from the way he has come. All the learning is lost and left behind, because the track is a light one, with an empty mind.

Those that jump or never began can see where he is heading and where the tracks began. They stand at the side, and are at a loss to help as he passes in such a rush.

They sit in the woods and sing and dance, some say its just like a trance. They listen to the silence, and nature all about, the crackle of the fire and the knowledge without. They see pictures in the flames and the knowledge within. They bond with each other as they should do, talking and dancing and forming the glue. The glue that will hold them together and keep them free. They have no equipment with its buzzing and din, its not constructing their thoughts or being a distraction. Present in the moment of connection, they are not travelling alone following the tracks of destruction. They have joy in their hearts and share their attraction. They are free in their bodies and they live without constriction. Breathing the air, watching the fire, consuming the water and lying on the earth, so they live in connection with the world. They see the trees and all the animals about them, not blinded by false lights made from artificial extraction. Drumming to honour the peoples who have sat in this place many times before. The bond cannot be broken its strength is in the trust and connection.