(from my homework for class this semester)
A few years ago I made an extravagant purchase, one small black bamboo plant. I paid $50 for this plant, which was then difficult even to obtain. We have nurtured that first plant until we now have several plantings around our perimeter. Suddenly last week a small army of thick asparagus-like shoots appeared one morning. Each day they grow at least six to twelve inches. Deer have nibbled on a few of them, ending their brief lives, and my husband has transplanted several. He brought me a broken-off stalk so that I could share his admiration for its lovely detail. I was also inspired, enough to do a pen-and-ink drawing that night, just for the simple pleasure of it.
Like the bamboo shoot, my soul is the emergence of a whole new life from an original root of some kind that I cannot see. It waits in the dark for its fulness to come, then expresses great exuberance for the opportunity to burst into the light of day and grow into something that did not exist before. The bamboo shoot, like my soul, is a succession of endless layers, each emerging from the protection of the previous layer, all of the layers encouraging the ongoing development of the life core that protrudes at the top.
Of course, this is bamboo, and whatever boundaries we may think we have with the neighbors or our own lawn, these surges of life are always a surprise, no matter how eagerly we watch and wait for them. What we know, however, is that our land is very happy when it bursts with life as it has this spring.
My soul is my own core life force, the vitality which expresses itself as Holli and in Holli’s body and mind. If only I had gardened earlier in life, I might have better understood the hidden nature of my roots, the need to nurture, to be patient. In my own tradition we observe an annual ceremony commemorating and reenacting the mysteries of Osiris. In the time of the ancients at Abydos, priests would have put seeds into a mummy case full of dirt, watered it and put it away in the dark, returning in three days to reveal the sprouted grain. This was, and is, no secret, but the mystery lies in seeing ourselves as a similarly miraculous germination.
For some years I tried to conform to an image of myself that I thought would be acceptable in my profession. It was successful, to some extent, but I never felt as happy as I have since allowing my authentic self to emerge. Increasingly, I see that by letting the seeds germinate in secret, then nurturing them and following them where they will come forth (like the bamboo in my yard), I am becoming more effective, more joyful, more – everything. The sowing requires that I collect experiences; the nurturing calls on me to meditate, practice simple devotional acts, and cultivate relationships with those around me.
Recently, I was dismayed to learn that I had been mentioned in a scholarly article about theology. It was a surprise to find even a small discussion of an intimate part of me exposed to the hypercritical and analytical academy. Yet, at the same time my Osireion members are urging me to tell our story, to share our tradition in writing, so that others may have access to our experiences before we leave this world. I plan to do that writing this year. Perhaps the seeds that I sow will be carried abroad to lie in secret, then grow in a new garden. The group agrees that such propagation is not necessary for us to feel that our own experience has been valid and valuable. But it’s in the living nature of humans to seek new venues, express ourselves in new forms, and offer what sustenance we have to others along the way.
Whatever becomes of my own harvest, and whatever the outcome of its dissemination, I return to the cycle of growth, rest and rebirth which is the wisdom of the earth, there for me each day. This is my soul work.