Painted Trillium Patterns: original pastel


  • original pastel on board
  • 5 x 7″ framed to 8 x 10″


There are patterns everywhere the trillium says to me, and I lean in closer, not entirely astonished by the connection, but still, I wonder, is it real? I decide to hedge my self-doubt. I don’t want to miss this opportunity to listen to a trillium.

She seems to understand this, and continues, You humans, bless you, you’re so wrapped up in your own patterns that you can’t see the the field of patterns from which you continuously emerge. 

It’s OK, we don’t hold it against you, it’s all part of the great unfolding, but––you might benefit greatly from stepping out of your mind. Move into a softer breath, a softer gaze. Ah, that’s the trick. You have to feel.

It’s rather like riding a bicycle, not that I’ve ever done such a thing. I’m a plant, I have roots. But I can root myself into your consciousness, and it’s the closest thing I can find here in this catalog of insanity to describe to you how to be a part of this symphony of patterns.

Once you catch on, you can do it anytime. 

A chilly breeze interrupts us, stealing some of my warmth, and sending the trillium into a blissful, swaying trance. When it subsides she steadies herself and smiles at me.

You have to feel yourself as part of the living whole, and there’s a whole lot of garbage standing in the way. 

I am surprised to feel her roots in my psyche, pushing aside obstructions with a deft power.

Let’s put away this box of guilt. It serves no one. And here, this distrust you have of your own feelings and perceptions, that we will just shove out of the way. You can deal with it later, if you want, but there’s no need. Like I said, once you get the hang of this there will be a new way of moving about. When you learned to ride a bicycle, did you look back and think, I need to analyze why I fell back there? Or did you fly forward on two spinning wheels, flush with the joy of the breeze on your face?

I knew, strangely, what she was talking about. This moment felt just like that––delicious and free, playful.

Here’s a whole room of unworthiness! Goodness, that has got to go. Let’s just chop that off and drop it into the Ocean. No, not like garbage. Stop that. Remember we put the guilt aside. Do you really think the Ocean doesn’t know what to do? Especially with your psychic mess?

Now I see, this is perhaps the biggest obstacle of all. Science. There’s a whole crowd of scientists in here. Interesting. Look at all these folks that think they know everything, walking around with blinders on. A lot of forecasting in here, too,  I’ll not contest that they are quite intelligent, and it’s true things are out of balance, but they are dressed in robes of outdated thinking. Worse, they seem to be unable to grasp that the Earth is a conscious being. Poor things, they are really disconnected. Let’s throw them into the ocean, too. Don’t worry, they can swim. Those orcas look kind of hungry though.

Here the trillium laughs at her own little joke. I’m surprised at what a trickster she is. I wasn’t expecting that.

She pauses to survey the rooms in my psyche, and decides that we can proceed.

Remember, there is more than one way to know a thing. Trust what your body feels! Just feel your way into my consciousness. 

Can you feel my roots, the tendrils moored into the soil? Thunderstorms will roar across this ridge, but my roots hold me steady and drink up the rain. You know that, but can you feel it? Can you feel how the soil is part of the mountain herself? How I AM THE MOUNTAIN!  Can you feel the greater pattern of the mountain moving through me? It’s like Beethoven’s Symphony of Joy amplified, it’s crazy joy moving through my body. I’m drinking the rain, yes, but I am enmeshed in this joy-song. 

Feel how my stem stretches taut with this song, how my leaves unfurl, rather like your arms, but then how they bask in the light of the Sun. Feel how the Sun feeds me delicious light. Feel how I am the song of the thrush and the whir of hummingbird wings. The tickle of ant feet. I am the needles of spruce above and the moss carpet below. And I am this flower, a dance of three petals, three sepals, three leaves. My veins pulse with the joy of existence. I am rooted in this place.

Perhaps that’s part of your conundrum. You have forgotten how you belong to a place, because you are always moving about, in your thoughts, in your bodies, even your food is moving all over the place, apricots from turkey, coffee from Costa Rica, Indian pepper, black beans from China. 

You’re scattered all over the place! 

Well then, make that your strength. Feel your connection to all these places. Become them all. Feel the patterns that sustain you. The plants that are offering you their nourishment, their medicine, their joy. 

We want you to feel this! We want you to participate!

You’re really not separate, at all, love. See how you and I have become joined, here, in the fertile soil of your Imagination? There’s real magic there. Spirit healing. Don’t let anyone tell you tell you otherwise. 

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