Witches Ear, Witches Butter, or Tree Ear, fell after yesterday's storm.
Reminding me that the way trees listen is through fungal collaboration.
Deep in the ground and high in the sky, the old standing sage, develop ears, in partnership with fungus, as they age and the branches die.
Maybe that is a sign of healthy eldership. Shedding dead branches. Letting the wisdom fall to the ground. Developing deep listening. To the world, to each other, and to the self. Developing those witches' and wizards' ears. The magical ears of the heart.
To hear only what the heart can hear beyond the Ears. To hear only what the collective whispers, beyond the limited idea of self.
It is always in plain sight for those who slow down and pause, for a moment, step out of the frenetic speed of the modern world, to return to the elders, the wise teachers, the land, and the ancestors.
There is not one day that being on the land does not bring me a new teaching. A new perspective.
As a forever curious child, I deeply enjoy this classroom of life. This kindergarten for the soul.
For a moment, I forget about my pain, the spinning wheels of my mind, the unresolved emotions, the shattering collapse of our world, and I dwell in the magical ever-loving world of the green kin, gently softening my heart and body.
Listening, listening deeply.