One of the first things I'd like to share is a photo of Japanese Knotweed. If you live in the northeast you probably know this plant, labelled "invasive," as it takes over other plants. While at the GMC I learned from visionary activist astrologer Caroline Casey (http://www.coyotenetworknews.com/) is that Japanese knotweed is moving into places that have a high incidence of lyme disease. Well, Block Island has the highest incidence of lyme in the country, and Knotweed is everywhere on the island. Here's what it looks like:
So for all of you worried about contracting lyme disease, or for those who have already been exposed, I recommend picking some knotweed in early May. You want to pick it early, before the stalks get over two feet tall. I usually stew it with some apples and cinnamon. It is tart, rather like rhubarb and makes a nice, old-fashioned dessert or breakfast. I don't eat grains, but I imagine it would be a fine accompaniment to oatmeal. I also know that knotweed is good for the heart. I fed some to my friend Joya when she was suffering from tachichardia. I believe she's doing much better now. So pay attention to what plants are growing around your house--the volunteers, not the ones you chose, although there is no "coincidence" about those either. The plants that choose to be near you could have a message for you about the state of your body, mind, or soul, as plants operate on all these levels.
I sort of drifted through the day today. I was supposed to work on a stone wall with Paul down Snake Hole Road, but ended up helping Brigid at Three Sisters instead. (Brigid--goddess of fire, healing, and POETRY!) After work I was restless-big waves make me so, as well as the medication I am still taking. I decided to walk toward the water and see what I could forage. The first stop was right in the garden in front of my house: wild carrots. I pulled up about a half dozen and tossed them on the front porch. A few steps later I discovered that the day lilies had started to bloom. Day lilies, pictured below, are named because they bloom for a day only. Their shoots are edible and quite savory. I feel bad sometimes when I pick them because that means they won't get to be a flower, but maybe they flower inside me. Have you ever thought about what the world would be like if we never ate meat and only ate flowers? Even wild meat like the fish I used to spear--just flowers--what kind of creatures would be? I imagine we would be more sensitive to our feelings and more tuned into those of others, also, that we would be intoxicated with light, dizzy with our beauty, that we would weep when the rain kissed our petals. Would we be sad when the time came for us to wilt? Would we compete to survive or ask the wind to blow our seeds somewhere in need of our own particular beauty?