I have a lot to say about the corn field growing around the house. Over the past month the tender shoots bourgeoning from the dark soil have metamorphosed into a thick forest of tightly knitted corn stalks. Their domineering presence (over two-meters tall) has completely modified the landscape and the experience of being in the house. Now, if I sit at the kitchen table to muse and write, all I can see is a dense wall of green providing an interesting backdrop for the flower beds which seem to be displaying brighter colours. No more gazing into the distant horizons to wonder and ponder on the greater mystery of life and what the next dispensation might be. Dwelling in a house embedded in the foliage has been an enforced turning in, the proverbial first step, the one close in, the one we might even find difficult to take. There have been some good moments and some interesting discoveries.

I first noticed the beneficial effects of the enclosure after an athletic session in the garden tackling the weeds and undergrowth in the hedges, including invasive brambles and piercing thorns. The sun was strong, the work demanding and, as I went to put away the gardening tools, I realised that the shady resting place we had set up under the trees was all the more inviting because it now comprises a wall of green vegetation sheltering it from the harsh afternoon sun. I suddenly remembered seeing tall buildings in Milano, notorious for its sweltering summers, using huge green garden walls to cool down both the building and its inhabitants. I sat for quite some time breathing in the green oasis, delighting in the restfulness and the possibility to step out of the febrility of the height of the holiday season. I felt protected and able to deeply relax; I was no longer exposed to all and sundry, in full sight of everyone cycling, jogging or driving up and down the road. I was at home, chez moi, able to enjoy a few moments to replenish myself and drink from the well within before moving on to the next act of service for the guest lodge.

The corn field has completely changed the ecosystem. Nested in the sea of green, the house is indeed cooler and we have not felt the effects of the heat domes. The thick rows of corn stalks provide a natural barrier against the ravenous roes who love to pilfer the flower beds in search of a treat. It also acts as the perfect windbreaker for the westerly winds that bear down on our part of the island. This is why the flower beds are thriving; green being the complimentary colour of red it certainly kicks off the red roses, pink hydrangeas and magenta fuchsias.  

Yet, I do miss my morning writing sessions from the kitchen gazing across the open landscape. I admit to feeling unsettled at times as I transition from the comforting intimacy of nesting in green to a disquieting sense of drowning in the leafy seas. I find myself taking refuge on the first floor where I can oversee this verdant landscape, stretch my gaze towards some distant horizon and reach out for a bird’s eye view. I catch myself enviously looking at women running or cycling on their own, wilfully training for the next athletic performance they have signed up for. I see in them younger versions of myself enjoying the solitude of a training session to get away from the everyday busyness. I feel sadness for those bygone days and also gratitude because the green fortification is shielding me from the temptation of returning to those excessive training programmes rather than nurturing the treasures springing from the fields of memory.

The disquiet I experience on the ground level, surrounded by the overbearing presence of the fast-growing corn field, has everything to do with realising that I don’t want to run away from myself. I am even prepared to become utterly tired and bored with those older versions of myself. I am aware that there are some aspects of my life that I don’t want to turn away from, however unpleasant it might be to confront and embrace them. Over the past year, as I have charted the pathways to selfhood, I am growing into the sphere of the personal that guides our transition from personhood to selfhood and, truth be said, I am thoroughly enjoying the odyssey. Nonetheless, in the idyllic settings of my leafy shelter, there is definitely a hefty shade of oppressiveness made of restless thoughts and anxious concerns. What is it that I am about to surrender to the field of mercy and forgive myself for? All this reflects in so many ways the voyage of a maturing human encapsulated in an odyssey with wholeness: we move from one resting place to another; we brave the unknown seas; we climb up to whatever edge in our life is presenting itself; we take small, faltering steps; we tame the roaring lions seeking to devour us; and we fall upwards into wholeness.

These past two months during the online gatherings we have been sailing the third wave of expansion, waking up, with its twofold movement of awakening and surrendering. Finding myself enclosed in a green hermitage has presented me with the perfect conditions for bringing to fruition my expression of the human unfolding experience with wholeness following the evolutionary thrust of consciousness. This has impacted my writing, the preparation and delivery of the online gatherings, the imagery escorting me to the imaginal realm, and even beyond, and the diagrams and pictures I draw to illustrate the unfolding nature of consciousness.

The voyage often begins by walking the paths cohorts of pilgrims have gone down searching for truth and the absolute. Somewhere along the transformational journey, we shed the cloak and staff of the pilgrim and board the ship setting off on an open-ended course to sail the unknown seas. Therefore, on the last leg of the odyssey, showing up, we are going to leave behind the hermit to become seafaring pilgrim ready to unveil the unified self, the ensouled individuality. We enter these new territories through the pathway of integration with the movement of enacting which is, in essence, a sacred act of service or a cosmic service of love. The pathway of integration is the prime location of the elemental power of fire; not the blazing fires raging with yang energy, encountered on the pathway of metanoia, more the refiner’s fire, a glowing fire with yin qualities, gently burnishing and polishing the unified self.