Nature's Place

Little Earth

Out where the soil is dark and damp there grow cities for the little ones. You know, the little people, the fairy’s, the bugs ‘n’ things …

On cities called plants, some deliberately grown for the purpose, are housed in their way all the different kinds of creatures, and fed by flowers and other inhabitants in particular. All sorts of shapes, colours and sizes, and with their particular niche, fit the metropolis called the garden – not unlike people in that way.

I haven’t been tending it as much as usual, getting down and dusty with the magical ones, but haven’t been neglecting them either. Everything has its season; some plants can’t stand the condition of the soil – too much clay, or just don’t fit into the network for long and die off. And the creatures grow, come and go, and I move some around if they are decimating a particular area.

Yes, I interfere, that’s why it’s called a garden and not a forest or meadow – gardens are managed somewhat, though as little as possible in my case. Much because I don’t know anything about gardening, plus I prefer to see what arises from the earth given the best conditions I can provide – with water, rot, light and shade.

One unusual housing complex, an old log I drilled with the possibility of bees making nests in it as it hangs under the veranda, is now well on its way to being populated. There are Orange Tailed Leafcutter bees, one kind of mud working wasp, a big old long and thin Ichneumon Wasp looking to lay in some others nest – and another short and fat kind, a variety of other flying creatures, scavenging ants – and a long term resident Spider. A host of creatures making a home of the holes I drilled – moving too fast to get many shots of them yet.

One thing about the nature is you’ll never catch it ruminating on the past; it’s always in the present without the speed bump of self reflection to bring it grinding to the turgidity of emotional consideration – we endeavour.

Flying or standing still in its ever coloured coatings, shining brightly in the summer sun, there’s truth in that worn old beetle.

Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture to enlarge in a new tab – best in FireFox


Death by Any Means?

I have an old friend I met recently who is going to die. I met her in my explorations of the Euthanasia or Right to Die movement, which is a story in itself and I will go into it another time. We are all going to die but my friend knows her time is up and she wants to go peacefully and not in one of our ‘reputable – for their lack of care’ retirement homes or on the hospital production line where you can be assured of only one thing, the indignity of institutionalisation and the subjection to the will of others that implies.

But she has to go alone because nobody close understands or is fearless enough to stand by her and just speak of death, and do what is necessary. So I wrote her this when she asked if it is ok to speak of her death.

What a shame it is on the status quo you have to speak to a stranger about dying, the most intimate experience in consciousness. If I was there I would stand with you and by you. But the times and technology allow this, so this will have to do – isn’t that good.

If people can’t be spoken to of death, to you of your death, then a pox on their houses – that’s just karma, to wake them up to the suffering they cause by their belief in it, or their fear of the believers – a belief in fear. I know what it is to be alone, to do what everybody else thinks is wrong, with no fallback position. But alone doesn’t have to be lonely.

I have spent a lifetime, almost, tearing the insanity of ‘religious’ (or other equally absurd) belief from my eyes – planted by the Irish Christians, and our stupefied society, by the way of things – and I won’t let them stop me conveying my hard earned vision of what this life and death is. I claim the same right to speak.

It’s dying alone you refer to. I don’t know your situation and I am not there yet but I have touched the darkness and my mind would reel without right preparation – having looked at it for long enough and to know I have nothing left to do. Here’s what I see.

Death is as natural as the sunshine. Only people make a problem of it – in their fear, many older mature cultures have respect for it and for those on their way. Because we are of the Earth and not of the mind that fears and knows the lovelessness of the world. The Earth is not the world.

The Earth is where everything natural happens without anything holding on to it and making a problem. The Earth is where everything beautiful is born and nothing gives up until it’s time is inevitable, when there is no other option. We, as humans, can add to that ‘when there is no other acceptable option’, somewhat because of our misplaced obsession with living longer that has devised custom and technology to prolong living beyond the natural death of the body – an absurdity if ever there was one.

The Earth is a place of great wonder and beauty and when the time comes we die back into it, as we came out of it, whether we believe it or not. And what we die back into is not just the body to the earth but the Soul (if you like) to the Mother earth is. Earth is the mother of us all, no? In every way we come from the earth, by the power of the sun.

And when you die it is the love of the mother you die back into, the love that turns to wonder and beauty here. So when you leave, leave the world of fear and belief behind and embrace the original love we come from. It’s inside now, downwards, or up towards the dark sun.

Every death is a birth into a higher octave of being, the way a musical note ascends to the next and leaves the last behind – for it to be. And every death with a knowledge of birth is a death of a pioneer, the birth of a truly noble creature in another place.

It doesn’t all have to be rational, or make sense. Just follow the ring of truth out of this place, when the time is right.

Encouraging death? No, encouraging fearlessness, encouraging courage – the real stuff of nobility.

Clarity is your best friend, in the end.

Be easy, as much as can be.

Total peace? In existence? Where every thing is hard-wired to hold to living, to the last drop? I don’t think so. I think that simple instinct to live, that turns to the fear of death upon reflection, will always be a disturbance in some measure, especially as one sees death’s approach.

What I ask myself is have I done what needs doing, is ‘my house’ in order. If the answer is ‘Yes’ then it’s only fear and I can do what I know is right and acknowledge the simple good. It’s good to be in the senses, to see the nature, feel the breeze, hear the bird – or whatever is ‘sensible’.

And it is good to go to sleep, after a long and tiring day, down through the sensation inside. Where, along the way, I may dream of conflict but just as here, it will pass if I don’t hold on. And as I fall deeper into sleep the fear – and the fearer – dies, like the Chimera it always was.

Maybe that resonance is the ‘ring’ of truth, the bell calling me home? Saying, it’s all right now. There is nothing to fear any more.

Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture to enlarge in a new tab – best in FireFox


Cock o’ the Walk

When you watch nature’s creatures you soon begin to see an extraordinary thing. They don’t get emotional. They don’t have psychological positions to protect from dissolution, because they are not identified with any of it. They simply live their life, doing what they do from moment to moment.

If only people would do the same, but with the knowledge that to cause pain is to receive it, whatever form it takes. And that’s what we do until we wake up to it. I am not special, I know this from my own experience of getting it wrong, of giving pain instead of love.

But waking up is not easy, even, or especially, for the ones who think they are already special. The ‘revolutionary’ fighters of causes, the so-called spiritual ones who love to dress up – inside and out, anyone in fact who is identified with what they demonstrably are not – that is a psychic condition and demonstrably unsustainable.

We, I, am demonstrably the body, inside. Outside is just the appearance of inside. And inside I am the simple sensation, that never lets me down, or I am nothing – an apparent psychological impossibility, but only if you believe that. Anything I think is a Chimera, gone with the next best wind.

I don’t believe, in fact I have spent my life tearing down the belief I was inculcated with by the dysfunctional Catholic church in the form of the Christian Brothers schooling – the most violent people I have ever come across, simply because they used such trickery you didn’t know you were being used and abused – and all in the name of god. God wills it! The cry of hypocrites down through the ages.

God wills nothing of the sort. I say god would have you know love and enjoy the beauty of the earth and rest in knowledge of uncommon truth. People who had taken a vow of celibacy in a vain attempt to emulate a fallacy of the master Jesus being without the love of woman in his life – even though there have since been found scrolls that put Mary Magdalen at his side when the 12 disciples had already abandoned him – bloody cowards, lost in their hopes and fears. And hail Mary, for her undying love. :)

The body won’t be denied, it is a sexual entity, evidence the world population if you need any. And what is suppressed comes up in another place but distorted. Hence the worldwide phenomenon of priests being chased, at last hunted down, for their sexual abuse of children who were in their care. ‘Care’, a euphemism nowadays for neglect, or worse.

The same is true of any organisation that puts ideology over actuality. Ignore the fact for long enough and it will come home to bite you in some other form. The trick to waking up and ending this absurdity called our way of life is to get back home, back to the reality of the body, inside, as the sensation first, and acting from there and not from what the mind conjures out of want and greed, desire and ambition – for position or power, usually over others.

But how to do it, get back home? Well, you can make a start here : Meditate.  Or wherever you find what fits you. And just keep at it until you break through the crust of mind that would have you do something else, to fill your inner space.

And the fundamental key to it all? Relax, be easy, let go, inside … And Kick some ass if need be. My 2c. :)

Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture to enlarge in a new tab – best in FireFox


Early Xmas Colour

The Christmas Beetle came to the garden recently. An unexpected visitor, since I have only seen them in Nth NSW, at Billinudgel NR/swamp – where I went today with nothing to be found – and too hot for the swamp.

There have been many recent and unusual visitors to the garden, a tribute to the flowers that grow there, the whole that comes together when the parts are somewhat managed, given we have mismanaged nature so much.

Is that ‘we’ or ‘I’? No matter, it’s about the nature now. And nature will not be denied, except by a steel enclosure – and then there’s rust … :)


Mark Berkery ……. Click any picture to enlarge in a new tab – best in FireFox