Arrival of Autumn

The Bone Lines is a place of imagination and wonder. Each piece of the whole Earth is a poem of magic inside of us. Bones, Roots, Flesh, Seeds, Stones hold the promise of our ancestors and the stars of the universe. Threads that wind through the collective weft their synapses into a tapestry of beauty and trouble. How do we find that beauty that rests in the petals so easily seen in a blossom, yet elusive in our ever striving and searching? Pain follows in our shadows as walking becomes perhaps difficult. The Trees hold court everywhere waiting to be noticed in the swaying of song and memory. Tree Friends all around us showing us the deeper way. Silence is a quest of great effort that slides down the mountains as we struggle to climb up once again. The Bone Lines live in Earth and her leylines, in our rivers of piscean fish, up the steepest cliffs traversed by the Phoenix, and inside of the marrow of who we have become. The Bone Lines is a song of hope. There is a way to live with the wide breadth of who we are as humans. It takes imagination. This imaginal realm requires giving up sameness and banality. It asks for the regenerative view. The over culture continues to hold a view that we are in need of fixing. The cracks that need healing can be filled with the gold of story to strengthen us. The Bone Lines is a view of the Poetic Human. Human as Poetry.

Photo by Smileus/iStock / Getty Images

Photo by Smileus/iStock / Getty Images

Linden