Fear of a Living Planet

The planet is alive, has a soul, desires, ambitions. This soul loves, flees, abides, prances, honors — every emotion and ability we associate with the human condition and much, much more. This soul is much older and more mature than we are. Every step and breath you take and word you utter is completely known and understood by the planet. How could it be otherwise? How could we survive as this planet — for we, too, are a part of this great soul — without her having complete psychic insight into our depths of being?The planet, what we have called “Gaia” from the Greeks, has completely understood the entire evolution of the human race, everything that happened before we came here upon her body, and all that will occur after. The planet is a living being with autonomy, self-esteem, sincerity, intent, clairvoyance. I believe we are afraid to really admit this to ourselves. We are afraid to admit the implications of the earth being a living, breathing, limitless soul. The limit of our planet’s soul does not stop at her body, neither does your soul’s limit stop at your’s. Is it not the very nature of souls to lack bound? We are afraid to love our Great Mother the way she wants to be loved, we are afraid of going home. We are afraid to give the earth full agency; afraid of mother’s magic.

We may compliment the scenery or weather of our planet by saying a mountain or tree is pretty or the weather is amazing today, but none of this touches the heart of Gaia. These are all simply judgments about the relative beauty of what we see or feel when we look at Gaia. The reality is that grass growing out of concrete in the city is just as profound as the summit of Mt. Everest. A destructive hurricane or wildfire is no worse than a lush forest in full bloom. Weather and seasons are simply earth’s emotion, and we imprison emotions by judging them. All plants and animals are equally beautiful. Flowers do have an opinion about whether they are picked or not. Gaia is a great soul, which means they exist and flourish and know beyond our preferences of whether her words or actions or “good” or “bad”. As a general rule, one must love without judging to rest in the bosom of a great soul, and also to be one.

Human morality has no refuge in unconditional love, which is why we so rarely love others or ourselves freely, because morality needs judgment.

We must die to human morality and human love to rest in the bosom of the Great Mother.

I am Nature

apiomerus californicus (California bee assassin) eating a honeybee on erigonum fasciculatum (California Buckwheat) in Malibu, CA.

This was channeled from somewhere in the galactics, probably my higher self on Sirius, the same consciousness that was there when Gaia was quite young. I am in absolute union with All That Is, in this case specifically, that realm of devas and fairies we call “nature”. The road to Gaia, the road to Faerie and the road to the Holy Spirit in the Twelfth Dimension all lead to the same place: pure and unadulterated emptiness. Spirit wants to come down into Form, i.e. me and you. The time is THE NOW for absolute union. Individuals of Christ Consciousness are pure love, which is to say, if you looked into the Great Void and you looked into such an individual and you looked into the brain of a pollen grain, all three would look identical.


all insects sit in the seat of my soul

waiting for my blood to spill

in the sanctuary of

their bliss


all plants lounge in the cake of my flesh

as we pursue

the sweetest bark

of dog and tree


all bobcats lay claim on my ambition

as we propose

our flowers as peers


all ferns sweep the forest with my breath

and never forget

to tell me their birthdays


all snails write poems with my voice

as we cajole together

in luxury of their church


all birds read trees with my eyes

as we pierce

the heart of human desire


all spiders breath with my nose

as we decide

the future for their galaxy


all flowers weep with my tears

of joy, as we set the table

for the history of their sex lives


all dogs lick their lips with my tongue

as they traverse

the nebula of the wolf


all roots prance to my front door

as we direct

the traffic of their souls


all bats pray in my caves

of wine, as we study

the novels of their children


all songs of all birds are at my fingertips

and ushered into the womb

of every woman I am


all moths flutter into my heart

as we orgasm together

at the feet of God