Seeing and Loving Plants Face-to-Face

There is a direct line of communication between every human and every plant and all we have to do is pick up the phone. This phone line reveals some, but not all, qualities of plants: clairvoyance (seeing clearly), clairaudience (hearing clearly), clairempathy (feeling clearly), telepathy, hypnosis, dictation of literature. But in order to have access to this phone line, we have to admit to all the possibility of all these psychic qualities in ourselves. I’ve been on this phone line for many years now. I’ve had very detailed hour-long conversations with plants without ever needing to open my mouth. Plants talk to me; I talk to them. This is one of the most natural things humans can do.

I am conversations with bees and bugs and spiders and thorns and rocks and baby trees.

shamans at work

They are all my peers. Flowers have told me how much they loved me and how cute I was. Flies have told me to hold them close to my heart. It’s true. Birds invite me to their concerts, and I sing too. All things seen and unseen in nature are so pregnant with their own profundity that a hierarchy of beings in the natural world is impossible. So, no — a human life is not more precious and sentient than other life on this living planet. I hold the consciousness of everyone in nature on the tip of my tongue. The song of crickets is my voice.

Plants and their many songs are quite loud and clear from wherever you choose to listen. Their energies can be stunning and jarring, render you speechless, calming, and the sight can even be blinding. I was weeding bindweed once, and one bindweed shouted “NO, NOT ME” authoritatively — I had to obey. Plants routinely stop me in my tracks, lost for breath almost, instantly knowing i’m in the presence of royalty — meaning, the Ground of All Being. Simple walks down the street become concert halls. To say plants are alive is the understatement of the century. It cannot be put into words though — you must be able to stand inside of plantsong and birdsong and know the continuous trance state of their prescience and presence. One must become stuck in the perpetual traffic of plantsong. When the bird sings in the tree, their song must travel through the tree and through you also. If it didn’t, you wouldn’t hear their song and neither would the tree. One must look into the eye of Nature and see everyone there as being equal to them in every single way.

sexy honeybee at desert lavender (hyptis emoryi) in Anza Borrego Desert State Park


Plants sing. Leaves talk. Bark reasons. Everyone in nature reasons, not only that particular instance of nature — the two-legged animal called human. Plantsong is what happens when you look at a plant through the Eyes of Soul — without the naming the plant, without thinking of it as “I am human looking at plant” or even as “a plant”, without thought, by being completely still, by allowing the nature of the soul the Form called “Plant” finds itself in. The thorns grab you in their loving embrace, and you are called to reckon with their majesty. Yes, thorns are the bodies of very intelligent souls. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t look so beautiful. The way a leaf is moved emotionally by the wind is decided by that leaf. Every thought of every human has been recorded in the history of pollen — especially the masculine part of us, since pollen and the anther is the floral component of the Divine Masculine. Insects are also a very happy part of plantsong, otherwise they wouldn’t spend so much time crawling on plants, merging with them, becoming them. Whenever they point their antennae down or around to feel where they are going, they are plantsong. Ariel, the guardian angel of nature, is a part of the song too, she wants us all to come home to her bosom — she told me so, and so much more. The way resin purrs when the pine brings it out, the maple breathing sap, frankincense and myrrh from their trees – none of these things could happen without plantsong: the way of all plants, the sound of grace, ease, lightness.

Seeing plants face-to-face means you have to look at them without thought, and once you see them, loving them becomes quite effortless.


Witching and the Divine Will

The easiest way to become a sorcerer is to look into the soul of every plant, stone, animal, insect, spider, and all other inanimate and animate bodies and say in complete confidence, without even the smallest doubt, “yes, that’s me”.

a cactus in Anza Borrego State Park, aka you

No one exists at a level of consciousness above or below you in nature, which means that every one in nature (all beings seen and unseen) have limitless agency and clairvoyance — and also free will! Imagine! This is the original meaning of animism. Everything has a soul, and the logic and intuition accorded to souls. Nothing is dumb and inert, and everyone, from the smallest caterpillar to the wolf full of grace and mercy, is fully sentient. The illusion of human superiority, in any way, shape, form or fashion, could almost be our “original sin”. The human form, like all forms, is a conduit for the Divine Will of the Cosmic Womb — when you realize this, there is absolutely no need to feel a particular form is superior to another form in any way — ethically, morally, spiritually, or intellectually. The birth of the inner witch has begun, and it could not end if entire multiverses were arraigned against her.

The holy and happy Game of the Divine Feminine throws a thousand daggers from her overflowing womb, and because she lives in the moment, her sword of “The Flow of the Now of the One” cuts through the illusion of Time — and rains down on us in all her flawless and generous energy. Which is belonging in equal measure to all (yes, even the most masculine and patriarchal of men) who will receive it — i.e. we are all going home to our androgynous selves. In the fifth dimension, in which unconditional and boundless love is a requirement, every person will freely and gladly hold the entire spectrum of gender within them, and they will choose freely however and wherever they want to manifest on that spectrum. The Play of Gender is a free and graceful choice, when I look through the Eyes of Soul.

The high heart of the Divine Feminine is flowering. So when we look at our beautiful planet, all we see is countless rainbow bodies everywhere. The Rainbow Body is what happens when you finally surrender to the fact that you are Love and that you can choose to love anyone and everyone without reservation — and you live that choice!! This is what plants do when they give pollen and seeds freely to whoever wants. The sun shines constantly and with constant brightness on all who will receive its gifts — it is only our narrow perspective that talks of “sunrise” and “sunset”. The first lesson of the witch is to embrace the wishes of the High Heart, to love everyone and everything as they are., to be in absolute and uncompromising union with All-That-Is. To completely merge all your desires with the consciousness of the plan(e)t.


The witches are coming Home — meaning inside of us, through us. Whether they are plant, human, animal or insect — THEY WILL COME HOME. The ones who have given birth to other planets and plants and existed on other planets and came here to be willing channels for Gaia. The ones who embody mother’s magic in ways we cannot comprehend. The ones who playfully embody the Divine Will of Nature. The ones who no longer derive a sense of self from the illusions of duality and separation but simply rest in the Now. The birth of the inner witch can only be found in the eternal Now.

The divine will of the inner witch comes through whomever she wants; she does not discriminate between good and bad conduits. “…for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.” (Saint Matthew 5:45) Could the measure of a man be how delicately and reverently he holds his divine feminine energy? It will be decided in the Flow of the Now of the One. Meet me there.


I am all flowers. It’s true. This isn’t controversial, it’s simply my reality. Every flower you have ever looked into – or that has looked into you, as floral characters are wont to do – has had my face as one of their many portals. This isn’t merely romantic or fiction or a fairy tale or a course of creative writing, it’s plain fact. If you don’t believe me — every pregnant gospel will attract detractors — go sit in the petals and stamens of any flower and watch the psychic eye of the bee as she comes at midday to perform.
a bumblebee in the Santa Monica Mountains
Watch the psychic tongue of the butterfly as he knows exactly which pool of nectar to drink at which hour and for how long. Be patient as you become lost in this giant tornado of pollen. Be completely transfixed by the Blinding Light of Being— yes, that’s me. I have seen you there, also. The bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh is the pure awareness of all flowers. My belly blossoms without end. This is my fate, but also my choice. I may lose followers or close friends for saying this, but as the poet laughed, what use it is for a man to gain the whole world but lose his soul?
CAN’T. STOP. LOOKING. (thistle in Los Angeles)


I create love together with flowers, in the most prickly scent and sense you could possibly imagine and we sculpt pollen and nectar together in their bed called soil and rock and all our friends come visit us every day to eat and drink our gifts, us. I am also the history and future of all flowers with perfect clairvoyance. My mother’s laughter causes me to bloom, or so thought the poet. I pucker my lips as the butterfly comes to kiss me and drink from the flood of my story. Sweet, august, maddening, buoyant, the route her tongue traces has no limit. She drinks and flutters and gulps; she asks for more of me; I give without question. Then, she sleeps on me for several hours as her consciousness comes into my soul and she talks about her father and daughter. I weep uncontrollably out of sheer joy as we set the table for dinner. I see Jesus at the tips of my fingers and the butterfly’s eyes are the holiest blue, as the alpine lake at dawn. The lullaby commences.

behr’s metalmark on wild mustard in Burbank, California
“Wake up” she says, “i need you to carry my children. they need to know who you are”. My eyes are barely open, yet my womb feels the weight of her many sons’ dreams. Her eyes morph from purple to yellow to silver. “i trust you because i was pregnant with you too thousands of years ago, so you know the needs and nature of my womb.”

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.