The Seed of Remembrance

 

Meditation & Transcript
By Clare Hagan


There are wildflowers in my desert 
which take up to twenty years to bloom.
The seeds sleep like geodes beneath hot feldspar sand
until a flash flood bolts the arroyo, lifting them
in its copper current, opens them with memory—
they remember what their god whispered
into their ribs: Wake up and ache for your life.

 — Natalie Diaz, Postcolonial Love Poem


1.

You’re already sitting comfortably. Make any adjustments if needed. Soften the eyes or close them. Notice your body being supported. Your feet touching the ground. Feel your breath, your breathing.

2.

Imagine you are like a seed. Imagine the deep intelligence within you. An intelligence that you see coming from your life, or your family, or your people, or the land you come from. Or maybe even the cosmos. Often it’s an intelligence that has gone unspoken or has only been whispered. And yet, like any seed, you carry this intelligence as some kind of memory or instruction. Let it be something you can conjure in your body, your inner ear or in your mind's eye. 

3.

Picture yourself as this seed and that you have been released and you can see where you have fallen, where you are nestled, or where you lay dormant and buried. Maybe it is dark. If so, adjust your eyes to that darkness. Maybe this darkness is complete or there are bits of light. Imagine the temperature. Is it the same in all directions? Who or what is there with you in the dark? Are there roots or stones nearby? Fur, or feathers? Moss or leaves? Other seeds?  How long have you been there? Imagine it is quiet or becoming quiet. Very quiet. What gentle sounds do you hear? 

4.

Now imagine water is coming. Imagine it arriving first as distant sound, then as weather. Imagine now it is  pooling water or even a rushing current. Perhaps you are lifted by the pooling or carried by the current. 

5.

Notice the water and how it registers for you, how it makes contact with your outermost layer. How this layer of protection responds. How this readies you for the fact that soon you might open. Or causes you to ache for new life. 

6.

Listen for what aches to come alive. For what was whispered long ago. Or breathed into you. Listen for what you carry. 

7.

Keep holding this wisdom as you slowly return to the space where you are sitting. Feel your body, the room, your breath. And when you're ready, slowly open your eyes.


 
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Come to the Water