I was perhaps not channeling the grass as successfully as I intended. I was putting down roots deep and branches high like an oak. A young oak at that, who has it in the seed to be a wise oak, but is simply a young oak attempting to be the wise oak.
I was writing and putting forth branches of belief all the while writing about the saying that while the tree falls in the wind the grass bends. Now I am channeling a different energy, a vain attempt at humility when I know quite well I am proud and confident. Someone could say to me, “You are god.” All the while I’d be hearing, “You are God.”
No, I am not trying to channel my humility or vanity for I assure you I can be humbly as vain as the humblest of humbles. The grass is not humble or lowly. The grass is the flexible, that is the essence which survives the strong winds.
Yet, every time I put down words on paper (or a keyboard) the words become stiff and do not move. They are locked in place. So the longer I attempt to channel the grass into words the less grasslike my energy becomes.
Perhaps I use words to feel smart, because sometimes I can write well in the flow like the river. I think it wise to proclaim that I do not understand something. When in reality, I can channel the grass. Yet, the grass does not exist in words at all.
I can take up the persona of the wise oak just as well as the persona of the fool. It is a matter of who I feel like being in the moment. In this, I do feel the Oneness the mystics speak of. For I am dynamic and multidimensional I can channel ‘grassness’ into my being at the same time I channel ‘oakness,’ or ‘rockness.’
You see the thing about grass, is I don’t think the grass speaks English. Trees don’t speak English either, but I’ve had short conversations with them. They have a very calm energy. My energy can be quite similar to that of the tree.
Should I post what I was writing that prompted this writing?
The wind is blowing genteelly through the trees, the answer my friend is blowing in the wind. At times the wind is strong enough to blow us over. Us the grand trees who are also the blades of grass that are unharmed by a tornado. Our tree self, strong tall and unwavering does not bend with the wind as the grass does. Our grass self is our flexible self, open to change.
I do say, I have seen some windstorms in my life. Here I am trying to remain in my element, the eye of the needle. Calm centered because I am attempting to channel the grass. To flow with the river, instead of fighting against.
Perhaps maybe perhaps I could swim with delight like a mystic. If I were to search the social media at this point, the world would not reflect the reality that is around me. For I say to you, the wind is not blowing down the trees outside my window. The birds are singing and the weather ideal.
One looking outside where I am would not see storms. Yet, I acknowledge there are storms. There have been floods that left cattle stranded on rooftops as the rivers overflowed.
The birds outside, I do not think they speak of it. It has been said that if the News broadcast all the good being done, it would take so long that there would only be seconds left for what they focus on majorly now.
You see here is where the flow of writing stopped, because I wanted to use the word ‘majoritively’ only I wasn’t sure if that was really a word so I did a google search and the Urban Dictionary defines it as follows.
Majoritively: A word used by stupid people to seem smart instead of mostly or mainly.
So I decided to use the word majorly even if it didn’t capture what I was saying. Yet, then I started to analyze what I was writing. Perhaps I was attempting to seem smart. Perhaps I was putting on my Spiritual Ego and really being anything, but what I was trying to convey.
I was talking about flow, Taoism. I do try to channel a way of viewing the world that is very Taoist because in reality that is what feels most like the grass. Or in other words that feels like the one way to navigate the world without becoming an overgrown tree of beliefs waiting for the next windstorm.
One can attempt to write in the flow, but the words get left behind as the flow continues. In the end the flow has moved through the words and to keep up with the flow the writer needs not be distracted by doubts.
So when I stopped to look up majoritively the flow continued and I had to get back into another point of the stream. To me that is a bit of what channeling is to push aside the analytical mind and allow the words to dance across the page. Channeling is like the grass in that way.
I try to write in the flow and if I stop to analyze I assure you I can find holes in the words. In fact there are holes between every word and in the letters themselves.
I once wrote a paper about a character who existed in the space between the letters on the page. The character was not the words on the paper, but everything around it. The character was bond to follow the script, but they existed beyond the script.
I remember some of my old writings from time to time. Especially when I read it form the viewpoint of another who has had the same flow.