In the moments after a powerful dream or a good sleep or a redeeming meditation, I like to think that we are all like these rogue seeds the birds and squirrels drop here and there among my vegetables and herbs–volunteers who found a good patch and, digging in, made decent use of a scrap of tenant-less earth. 

And, sure, there’s use to these volunteers–seeds, medicine, food, but really, aren’t they also just here to help us to remember wonder? To help us remember that there is so much not in our control, and thank the goddess for it. We, on our own, could never be this creative, this bold, or this cheerful simply to be here.

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