Quiet as a Church Mouse

"We are the Lock but Also the Key"  

I again feel an air of "Medievalism" enveloping around me as I sit at my computer typing this.

I've been feeling this energy for several days, now.

I "see" myself trudging back and forth from an old well in the middle of the town square, carrying a heavy bucket of water which is sloshing out one side and then the other.

The sweat is oppressive and stinging my eyes.  I reach up and wipe it away.  

The heavy moisture has perrmeated my dark clothes making it feel like another 15 lbs. has been added to my body weight.  

I'm not even half way through the day and dreading the work I still have to do.  

The sun is very hot adding to my discomfort.  

Chickens are running too and fro, pecking at seeds and insects.

The heavy oaks act as a fortress, surrounding the town, towering over me like silent sentinels, they are my friends, watching my every move.

I'm almost in the barn now and the shade is liberating.

I stand for a few minutes, under the overhang, catching my breath trying to cool off.

The horses are quiet each one in their own stall munching on hay.

I open the door to each one and fill their tubs with water and then head back outside.  

The weather has been acting strange lately and I'm not the only one to notice.

The townspeople are openly talking about the temperature dropping suddenly at night and the sun blazing white hot during the day.

It's getting harder and harder for people to work outside because of the weather and, yet, we can't stop because if we don't plant, grow and harvest what we need to in order to survive we will surely die.  

Even the pastor is bringing this up in his weekly service.  

"Something ain't right, something is amiss, something is wrong but what could it be"?

Looking back over the last few years I do recall some things happening that didn't make any sense at all.

One of them was there was this old woman who had finally succombed to old age, lying on her deathbed, not known for anything curious like divining or preaching the gospel who would suddenly sit up every few hours, proclaiming, "Behold, for it cometh and there is nothing Thee can do to stop it!"

Then she would flop back down and be as quiet as a church mouse until she suddenly bolted up again a few hours later proclaiming something else having to do with mankind's date with destiny or something to that effect.

This went on for several days and many of the townspeople gathered outside her home waiting by her bedroom window curious to hear her next round of proclamations. 

Strange, or, was it?

Was she actually saying something important?  Was she describing something that was about to happen?  

I'm outside again tending to one of the many public gardens where people can come and help and gather food for their families.  

It's a miracle there's anything growing anymore, first it's too hot then it's too wet then it's too cold.

Plants are hardy but not that hardy.

They have their own internal clock telling them when it's the right time to germinate, to put on growth and when it's harvest time.

The same thing with human beings - we all are embedded with our own internal clock guiding us through the different stages of life.

We are no different than a plant as we experience birth (germination); puberty (growth) and old age (harvest).

But what about intuition?  Do plants have intuition?  We know that human beings do.

What exactly is it and what does it do?

This is the subject for another blog post and another sacred soujourn into the unknown.....