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Sowing Oats

By Olga

I felt ancient, I felt real, I felt alive. I felt with all my senses that I am my Mother’s child.

Weight of the bucket full of wild oats. I sink my hand deep into it, down to the bottom. I can feel oats running gently between my fingers. Pearls of potential, life asleep…

I close my palm and pull it out. The remaining oats form a funnel like grains of sand in clepsydra. I can almost hear them rolling. I draw a half circle in the air as I release the seeds from between my fingers. Powerful, yet gentle motion…

The wind picks them up and spreads them evenly in front of me. I take a step back and immerse my hand in the bucket again. It feels like putting my hand in the jewellery box full of precious gems. I grab a good handful; I throw my hand up and forward in gracious circular gesture like a blessing…

Right there, standing with my feet on the earth, sowing oats, being in my body, I felt generations of women connected through time and space right in that moment. It was magnificent and overwhelming. It was like performing a “ritual” that one has never done before but at the same time one knows it very well…

I was sowing oats mesmerised, caught into the beauty of the movement and pace. Very gently, like a breeze of wind on the face, or like a warm feeling in your heart when someone puts a hand on your shoulder, the realization came to me – by placing the seeds on the soil I wake the life force within them.

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I felt a wave of responsibility. Like a parent. But truly the provider of care and nourishment is Nature herself. I felt humble and grateful. I used to take for granted the energy, the magic, the life itself that goes into the little seed to grow into a tasty meal. Humans mass produce poor quality food by extracting the growing process out of the context, out of its natural source of nutrition and meaning. I felt the sadness and anger of abused and neglected women rushed to be fertile and give and give and give. I realized that I, myself have to celebrate her gifts with great care and strive to ensure the constant flow of energy as I offer my gifts to Her.

Hopefully when I die she will embrace me with warm soil and I will become alive again in Her.

It started raining. I was reading that week about Toltec the God of Rain and how shamans communicate with him to ensure the rainfall on behalf of farmers. (Pete and Cynthia owe a great selection of inspiring books available to woofers!). I know that rain is very important, water is important. However seeing the shell of the seed getting softer, the soil around it turning into a tender cushion, brave shoots penetrating directions above and below – that is what I consider understanding the necessity of the rain.

I told my good friend about my experience, he highlighted to me that waiting for the seed to shoot is when one can get in touch with Trust.

I have to say that, at that time, I had no doubt that the seed will shoot. It was Life. I didn’t even think about another option, like a child who never even considers the possibility that there won’t be presents under the Christmas tree. I was very happy when I saw a green field in place of bare ground. That was overwhelming generosity, almost embarrassing, like love you are not ready to receive.

But now, as I am in Glasgow I find it much more difficult to have the same trust in the power of Life. Everything seems to be complicated; there are so many factors, obstacles, conditions and terms. I am sad because I feel like I lost some sort of connection, the simplicity and clarity. I am sad because I try to work out what things I can influence, not even being sure if I have any influence and if it is significant enough, what to do, who to be. I feel sometimes like I am digging out the seed an hour after I planted it to check if it is growing. Or maybe it is not a good spot for it. Maybe I put too much water, or maybe the guy I bought it off was an angry person, or was I angry while planting the seed, is that important at all? I don’t remember anymore… the mind goes on and on…

Trust diluted with 0.1% of doubt is not trust anymore. I guess one shouldn’t dig out the seeds. From what I gathered trust requires detachment. A kind, loving one, but still detachment. Maybe that is why it is so important to invest all one’s energy in performing the ritual, planting the seed, taking action wholeheartedly. Then, I imagine, one must breathe out the doubt, place the trust in the heart and proceed to the next exciting and brand new inhalation.

Olga Michalik

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