In the Garden With The Passion Flower

Today I got up and knew what I was going to do, and that felt good. I had a job planting some containers. I got to pick out flowers that I didn’t have to pay for with my own money. I got to tear through roots and potting soil – and carefully place earth worms and slugs away from my area of disruption. It was wonderful. Then I started thinking about sex.

Follow me now. I am not talking about running a XXX theater in my head. I am talking about how gardens are nothing if not full blown sex-a-terias. Roots weave around each other. Some blossoms ache for bees while others say, “Forget it, buzzers. I can handle this myself.” Next time you walk in a garden, you’re going to think about sex too. How can you not? Heavens…watch a hummingbird and try not to think about sex. Then something happened…my ego found me. The nasty little fear voice. It said, “Christine. Christine. You’re thinking about sex. Stop. You shouldn’t think about sex so much. Then, you know what happened, I started thinking about sex again. I started thinking about sex of all sorts and with various plants and people, but this time the background music was me telling me not to think about sex. You’re married. You’re not a sex addict. Gee, you might get more done if you were thinking about something else. What are you trying to manifest here? Yeah, like you’d really do it that way if you had the chance. The fear me was killing my fun.

When this happens, I start the analyzing, and this is what I have come up with. We’ve been taught not to think about sex. We’ve been taught not to think of ourselves as sexual. Sex is an earthly lust and our aspirations could  and should be so much higher. But, thinking about sex is thinking about feeling sexual energy. To deny it, denies the sexual energy in ourselves. It cuts off an arm because of an ugly bracelet. It ain’t wise to store up too much sexual energy, because it will start coming out in the wrong ways. Ever seen someone try and get the first dilly bastard out of a jar of pickles? The cussing starts. Jesus, I just need one effing pickle to go with my slider. Mother futher son of a –. Still, keep a little bit with you at all times, like the change you keep in your purse for parking. It might come in handy in the garden.

A LITTLE SPIRIT JUNKIE FIX. HER AND HER HAIR ARE WINNING ME OVER.

Guidance

Many of you out there can relate to wanting guidance. But ask yourself this question: When you get it, do you follow it? What would happen if you did? Yesterday just before I was fully awake I heard “Jepson.” The Jepson art museum in downtown Savannah is a wonderful attraction, and I’ve only been a time or two. That’s what I heard though. In my mind I asked, “Who wants me to go to the Jepson?” What I heard back was, “It doesn’t matter. You got the message.” It just so happened that our home was being sprayed for fleas, and I needed to leave the house for three hours. So, I went to the Jepson. I thought I had read on the webpage that a Juliette Gordon Lowe exhibit was there, and maybe I was meant to have that knowledge for future writing jobs. Couldn’t tell, but I headed down to Telfair Square with plenty of quarters for the meter. It felt so good to be going with what I had heard. It was so random and so exciting to try faith out. It felt like faith in particular, because I knew I shouldn’t be spending the money on museum admission. On the way down there, I said to my invisible encourager, “This is faith. I’m going on faith. Understand I am a little worried about the money.” What I heard back, “Go with the course that supports what you want to do.”

A nice lady at the desk smiled, and I couldn’t help but tell her about the voice I heard. I was so grateful that she entertained the thought. She asked me to tell her about myself. Was there a message we were supposed to give each other? I told her what I did for a living, where I was from, and she did the same.  Nothing hit immediately. “Maybe you should go in the gift shop,” she told me. That’s when I brought up the financial thing. “Well, I felt like I should go in there, but that doesn’t support my not spending money. “Maybe you’ll see someone you know,” she said.

Once I was inside the gift shop, the same conversation took place with a woman making a window display. The result was that I knew her daughter, or knew of her. I’d spent seven years working at a plant nursery, and this woman’s daughter had worked at the other location. We’d crossed paths enough. She also told me she was looking for a publisher for her children’s book. I happened to know one and gave her the contact information. Then the magic really started. I told her that I was going over to the Telfair Academy, and she offered a pass to me so that I could see upstairs at the Jepson while I was there! She walked me back to the woman I’d been chatting with before, and she gladly gave me the pass. Even better, she asked me whether I wanted a pass to see all three sites. That meant I could see the Jepson and the Telfair for free!

Was the voice suggesting I get some culture? Was there a specific exhibit that was supposed to touch me? Well, the Juliette Gordon Low exhibit was lovely, but I was drawn to the Kahlil Gibran show which had opened only a few days before. I didn’t know he was a visual artist. I’d read some of his quotes which resonated with me, but the artwork. Let’s just say that the content was stirring.  It’s incredibly sensual and speaks to the fact that we’re all connected. I love art of all sorts, but there is some art you need to see when you see it. That’s what this was. I walked though the cool room and knew – and felt – I was exactly where I was supposed to be. The drawing is one of his mother, and the image online doesn’t do it justice. Her hands have such dimension in the real piece. It was like she was holding something fantastic inside, and that’s how I felt all day long. I’m not saying I felt happy. I had a physical sensation in my chest all day long. It was just this wonderful energy, and I couldn’t help but hold it there with my hands for a while.