She Thought He was the Gardener

According to John 20, Mary Magdalene didn't recognize Jesus when she first saw him return to his empty tomb. She mistook him for the gardener. Why did he look different? Much of this story is metaphor, but not all. We are left over 2000 years later to figure out what is most likely historical and what is a metaphor. Both interpretations teach us about the nature of reality and also of Christ.

I am sitting with two questions about this story. Why a gardener? In Hebrew it means the same thing it does today. And why do we not hear of Him related to as the Gardener more? Potter, carpenter, bridegroom, shepherd. But not gardener! Yet this is in many ways what He is: One who tends His world. Who follows the seasons of death, Resurrection, and New Life. Of Hope and Faith and Promise. That's what we gardeners do. One can be all those things, but I think the gardener aspect is intriguing and powerful, especially at Easter.

My other question is why did Mary not recognize him? Why -- when He had the power to look like or be literally anything, was he unrecognizable? What had he been up to in the time he cast off his shroud and the napkin on his face? Did he watch the sunrise and take in his own Body of Light? What was he thinking?

So then she "turns around" twice. Is this literal, as anyone would when her best friend has just been brutally murdered and then his tomb is empty? Or is this more like a "turning around" that is happening in her mind, like shifting her thinking, as in, woah, all these things he's been telling me are real, and he has triumphed over death? In some way it helps to prepare her for His speaking to her.

So he calls out her name, "Mary!" and then she knows it is He. What was his tone? Loving? A whisper of hope and wonder? Exasperation because she could not see it was he? But then he apparently didn't look like Himself. Then he says don't touch me. She wanted to hug him, no doubt. Did he say this because his new Light Body was too "hot" to touch? Too incorporeal? Or some other reason? I suppose because she can't touch him. He's between the worlds. And yet he does very physical if miraculous things over the next few days, breaking bread with his frightened disciples and filling their fishing nets with a huge catch.

It's a powerful few days in the history of the planet. Over 2000 years later, we are still called to Rise and share the Light with others. In my theology this has nothing to do with "saving" someone from sin, but from guiding our souls into the Darkness of transmutation and into the Light of Awakening. We can be pulled from the sludge of our own internal Hells. Perhaps there is a Gardener in you that is as yet unrecognizable. What parts of you are you watering, germinating, and dreaming about?

Sitting Dragonfly Vigil

Yesterday I stepped out back to pick a green onion for my breakfast, and discovered a dead dragonfly on the patio. I knelt down to pick him up and he began whirring his wings; he wasn't dead, just dying. I shooed the cat away and brought the beautiful blue and black creature into the house. I gave him a drop of water, which made his wings beat and his legs move. Clearly he couldn't fly anymore. I couldn't think of how to help him, and recalled that dragonflies don't live very long in their adult form. I could, however, make him safe from cats and other predators and give him a place of honor on my kitchen counter, holding the space for him as he passed into Light.

His eyes were like geometric blue opals. They had a depth to them, like a glass gem or a bead of water. My four-year-old remarked that the dragonfly's patterns on his body reminded him of a totem pole. I covered him with a bug-box lid so the cat wouldn't get him but he could breathe, and we left for our trip to the science museum.

When we returned, I thought he had passed, but when I touched him one leg moved. His opalescent eyes had turned a dull black from the top down, with just a crescent of blue at the bottom. I gave him Reiki, hoping it would ease his transition. While he was "just" a bug, he was fierce and beautiful, and I at least wanted to honor his slow death.

When he died, his eyes were completely black. You could literally see the life force leave him through his eyes.

I set him on my altar. Dragonfly is about illusion, and I am writing a book about Zen right now, which is all about the illusions we carry in our heads about life, about each and every thing we encounter. The problem is not that we live in illusion, it is that we think the illusion is "real." Dragonfly teaches us to hold the dichotomy of illusion and what we call reality. He teaches us about the illusion of life and death, and the dichotomy of death being real and final, and not.

I give thanks to the Universe for gifting me this honor of holding vigil while a beautiful Blue Eyed Darner. Aho.













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For more ways to live in harmony with the living earth,
check out my book Living Earth Devotional by Clea Danaan

October 31: Samhain

I'm challenging myself to follow my own devotional, Living Earth Devotional: 365 Green Practices for Sacred Connection. I will post most days - can't promise all! - here in my blog. We begin today on October 31.

In sitting with a bone and a shell I'd gathered, as well as the many fall leaves I have on my altar, I was struck by how what is left in death, at least at first, is structure. Bones and shells and the lacework of leaves. Saturn energy. What falls away is the soft parts, the mushy insides. These give way to the earth, eaten by others, transformed again and again, serving life.

I'm wondering in what ways I need to trust the strength of structure, and let the soft parts of me flow where they will. Trust the natural transformations of soft tissue and inner substance. I'm seeing how the bigger picture, life beyond me, beyond this moment, can be a structure of sorts for where I am now. Rather than stressing about each little detail of the moment, I can trust the larger structure and let the soft immediate part unfold. That stressing about the details is what I need to let go of. I can do that by trusting Spirit, that holding feeling I sense when I feel into the space beyond Life.

Blessed be.

A Gift from my Father: Connecting Beyond the Veil

By Clea Danaan

Just before my dad died, I attended a metaphysical fair to promote my first book, Sacred Land. The two cases of books the event planner had ordered didn't arrive on time, even though other cases of books from the same publisher had arrived with no delay. I had about three copies to sign and promote.

At the fair I met a psychic healer who really knew her stuff. She really liked my book, and I wondered out loud why my cases of books hadn't arrived. She squinted her eyes in that inner seeing kind of way, and said, "Who stands behind you on the earth plane?" I didn't know what she meant. She said, "Your dad." In the middle of five hundred people milling about, I started crying. I didn't even know why. She told me that my dad was jealous of my publishing a book, and that he had held up the delivery. Obviously this wasn't conscious or literal, but that his energy - and I assume my own unconscious and energetic reaction to it - delayed the book delivery. She did some distance healing work on me and my dad. She said, "Now things will be different with Dad."

A few days later, I spoke with him on the phone (he and I lived in different cities), and we had the most amazing conversation. He asked me about my book, which he had never done before. He was interested and excited. Before, it was like he didn't know it existed. He hadn't known I was in grad school, even though I told him, and he hadn't asked anything about the book. It made sense to me that he was envious. He had never finished his master's degree in ministerial studies, and he had attempted many times to write a book. Also in this phone conversation, he asked for my help with his health. In the past, he had shrugged off any suggestions I offered (I was a massage therapist at the time, with backgrounds in expressive arts therapies and acupuncture) about health, mostly due to his shame about his weight and smoking. I did some online research, and we set up an appointment for him to see a naturopath. His doctor had been no help, telling him he just needed to lose weight. I knew more was going on, but not what it was, and that he needed someone to help him.

My dad and I have always been two peas in a pod. We are deeply into nature, and dedicated to our spirituality. We are writers. He liked to tell stories, like the time we went to look for concretions, rock-like formations of clay found in certain rivers and creeks. He used to go hunt them with his dad, and as we hunted he shared with me stories of concretion hunting and fishing with his own departed father. We found several concretions that day, and kept them in the windowsill at home. I would pick them up and inspect them, thinking of his father and our time at the creek.

The morning of his appointment with the naturopath, he passed away. I had felt it coming, and was stunned but not surprised. The coroner said congestive heart failure.

A few days later I talked with the psychic from the metaphysical fair and told her that Dad had died. She said he would now sleep for a year, as his soul felt defeated and he needed time to just float. That made sense to me.

A year later, I received in the mail a package from my brother-in-law. It was heavy. This brother-in-law and I are not close, though friendly at family get togethers. He's never mailed me anything. We don't exchange emails. I opened the package with great curiosity. Inside was a note that he had read Sacred Land and really enjoyed it. He said he thought I'd appreciate these concretions he'd gathered, which could only be found in certain creeks and rivers. He'd been collecting them for years, and something told him I'd appreciate them.

They were, I knew, a gift not just from my brother-in-law, but also from my dad. It was his way of letting me know he was awake again, and that he supports and is proud of my book and my work. He was letting me know we are connected always, through all sorts of ways, past, present, and future.

Concretions in a basket of crab apple suckers and flicker feathers

Creating a Memorial Garden

Samhain, also known as Halloween, is a time of year when we honor the souls of those who have passed over. One beautiful way to honor a loved one who has passed is through a memorial garden. This is a great time of year to plan such a commemorative garden that you will plant in the spring. You might consider using a corner of your existing garden, or use this opportunity to plan out that garden you've been meaning to create for years. Or if you have little or no garden space, you might create a potted garden or window box. The size is not important - it really is the thought that counts. As you tend your memorial garden you will be able to commune with your loved one, remembering her or him through renewed life.

My father passed away a year and a half ago. When we returned from his service, which was at the beginning of May, my new grape plants had sprouted. I dedicated them to him. Now every year we will eat grapes in honor of my dad, an avid gardener who always wanted to grow grapes. The magic of vines is that they keep growing, reaching always for more light, just as our spirit does after death. In this way, too, I honor my dad.

To plan your commemorative garden, consider plants or fruits and vegetables your loved one liked. Perennials, plants that return year after year, are best for the central parts of the garden, as they honor eternal life and rebirth. Roses are a nice option if you have the space and inclination. A tree would also be lovely in your garden, such as willow, said to help us conquer the fear of death, or apple, ripe just before Samhain and offering love and healing. Annuals like flowers and vegetables might also be in your memorial garden, especially if your loved one was a gardener or loved a certain fruit or veggie. I bet as you read this several plants that you associate with him or her spring to mind.

Statues or stones can also be included in your garden, from a big ornate angel to a tiny fairy in a window box. Garden stores offer many different styles and sizes, or you could make your own using a stepping stone kit from a craft store. If you have something of your loved one like a piece of jewelry you don't wear, you might bury it in the garden under a plant. The energy of your loved one will infuse the plant as it grows.

In a larger memorial garden, be sure to include a bench or chair for meditation and prayer. When you miss your loved one, go here for solace and to commune with him or her. This chair, and certainly the whole garden, might be a nice place to hold a simple Samhain ritual, or a ritual on the anniversary of his or her death.

Wishing you peace this Samhain and always.





Cat memorial courtesy Kitty Memorial

Settling in Towards Samhain

Today my three-year-old daughter and I went to another pumpkin festival. At my favorite nursery, they not only carried a huge variety of pumpkins and gourds, Indian corn, and local fruits and veggies, they had a bouncy castle and a straw bale maze! My daughter is just getting into the fall/Halloween thing. Next I get to teach her about Samhain, the celebration of the healing darkness and the honoring of our ancestors. Since my dad recently crossed over, this will be a particularly poignant Samhain for me.

I'm finding it fascinating to see how my daughter has no fear of death. When we find a dead animal or bug, she is more curious than sad or afraid. It was the same explaining when my dad died: his body got sick and it was time for his spirit to move on. She accepted this without asking the otherwise ubiquitous Why? Death is as natural to her as babies being born out of a mommy's yoni, Mommy's moonblood, and other cultural unmentionables.

I love fall, and I love teaching my curious and smart daughter about autumn and her rituals. We've talked about why leaves change color and fall off (the green fades as it gets cold, the other colors shine through, and then the tree needs to be bare leaves to get ready for snow). We've carved one pumpkin, which invited a squirrel into the dining room to chew off its face, and then it turned moldy on the inside. We both loved the preschool science experiment of a moldy pumpkin and squirrels preparing for winter, just like the trees.

What we are celebrating and what my daughter is learning is that life ebbs and flows. The garden goes to sleep in fall, as do trees, bears, and frogs. Then we come inside and eat squash, pumpkin, and apple cider. Ghosts are fun, witches powerful, and the beautiful mother moon shines on us as we move into the dark of the year.

May you and yours be blessed this autumn by the bounty of the earth and the balm of cool weather.

And may my friends Down Under be filling with the blooming of Beltane!

Blessed be.