Practicing with My Landbase


I had dinner the other evening with Landscape Guy and I was thanking him for my garden in Autumn. I told him that, while we collaborated to make my garden lovely in Spring and Summer, he was responsible for the fact that I really, really, really love my garden in Autumn. I was busy thinking, “I want lilacs in April and crocus in March, and daisies in August and casa blanca lilies in June,” but I never even thought about Autumn. Yet, here it is, November, and the toad lilies are just finishing, the Autumn camellias are going strong, and the glossy magnolias and Japanese temple pines are setting off the blazing red Japanese maples. November is all Landscape Guy’s doing.

I suspect that I say this every year, but this year, this year, this year — this year the Japanese maples are so red that it breaks your heart, that it turns you inside out, that it demands that you STOP and that you PAY ATTENTION. I’ve tried and I’ve tried to take pictures, but my iPad camera isn’t up to the task. There’s something that the clear, Autumn sunlight does to the leaves that just won’t show up on a camera. I would share them with you if I could; really I would.

There’s almost no fire in my chart. Whenever my madcap friend R. (a Reiki master) does Reiki on me, she says, “Wow. Your root chakra is weak.” Well, yes; yes it is.

One of the meditations that I do as part of my daily practice is one that I learned from my brilliant friend E. I work my way through each of my chakras, imagining the most vivid picture that I can call to mind of the color associated with each chakra.

Today, I’m getting ready for company on Wednesday (the curse of single people who like to entertain: starting early) and I’ve been cleaning and baking and preparing. But, in between the rosemary shortbread and the Chinese tea eggs, I’ve been going out to sit on my screen porch and work quite deliberately at absorbing the firery reds of the sun-lit Japanese maples that Landscape Guy put in my yard. And I pull that image into my root chakra. And I close my eyes and I visualize it there, even in the dark, even when the leaves are all gone. And I gaze at the firery reds of my sun-lit Japanese maples and I pull that image into my root chakra and I close my eyes and I visualize . . . .

This is how I do a spiritual practice that is rooted in my own Bit of Earth, in my landbase, how I do a spiritual practice that honors the spirits and powers and beings of this land.

What was your spiritual practice today?

Picture by the blogger. If you copy, please link back.

3 responses to “Practicing with My Landbase

  1. “What was your spiritual practice today?”

    Standing outside barefoot if even for only a minute or two.

  2. I’m going through some hard health stuff, and this morning I ran out of steam to be with it in a mindful manner. After a wee chat with my Self, we decided that the best think I could was sleep. Deep, restful, healing, renewing, sleep.
    So I did!

    Our maple tree finally dropped her last leaf last week. it’s now on our altar until Winter Solstice.
    That magnificent red is Autumn’s way of keeping the faith until Winter arrives, I reckon.

  3. My ongoing spiritual practice on most days is to observe the seasons rolling by, noting – as you have – the changes in weather, flora and fauna For example; one of our neighbors across the street is a rather ordinary-looking ash tree (ordinary until mid-October, that is) that turns almost-all-at-once to shimmering gold for a week or two then becomes a lacework of bare branches against a still mostly blue sky. It always makes my heart leap with joy. The fallen shards of wondrous gold are then gathered (I assist the tree’s people) and delivered to a local community garden to be returned to the Mother as compost for next year’s harvest.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s