beautiful, beautiful is all i can say. :)sharon WHew that woman sounds like me! ----- Original Message ----- From: "Roger Pye" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> To: <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> Sent: Sunday, August 25, 2002 9:46 PM Subject: Re: From Global News: the unknown God(dess) & a test
> Patti Berg wrote: > > >Hello, > > > >Over the summer, I have been trying to learn what biodynamics is. At > >first I thought it was a method of farming, but I read evidence that it > >may possibly be a religion. > > > >I have read on the list that some believe there are fairies in the > >forest helping them in their endeavors. Others practice the craft of > >making a "brew" to heal the land. > > > >I like the science aspect of this forum in studying the causes and > >effects of various methods of farming on the surrounding environment. I > >do not believe, however, that my plants grow because I connect with some > >sort of "inner self" or some universal power source. > > > >Is this a part of what biodynamics is? > > > > One day a man went into a supermarket and bought 50 packets of vegetable > seeds which were on special. He planted them in his garden according to > the instructions on the packets. Between planting and the time for > harvest it rained but little and all he got for his efforts were half a > dozen wizened plants and one good lettuce which he ate for dinner. > > The next morning he went to the house of a woman in the street who he > knew supplied local restaurants with vegetables she grew herself. He > found her in the front garden among her many flowers. He told her the > story and then asked her how it was that her vegies and her flowers grew > so well. > > "I'm a little busy just now," Mary said with a smile, "Come back at 2.15 > pm." > > At the appointed time he returned to find her clipping the heads of > flowers which were past their bloom. "Hold this open," she instructed > and handed him a large brown paper bag. He did as he was told, watching > as she dropped the heads into the bag. What, he asked, was she doing? > "Collecting the seeds so I may grow the flowers again next year," she > answered. "When the flower heads are dry, the seeds will separate from > the rest and I shall sift them out and put them away in a cool dry place > for they are better than the ones they sell in the supermarket The rest > of the flowers I shall put in the compost heap so all their goodness > will go back into the soil." > > "You don't know much about gardening, do you?" she asked. He shook his > head. Looking at his threadbare clothes and thinking of her reputation > with the restaurants, she thought she knew why he had bought the seeds. > "About your question," she continued. "It is a matter of acceptance. > Some would call it belief. For instance, I accept that there is a > rhythm to all things and that I am a part of it, not in control. Also > that there is only so much printing that will fit on the back of a > packet of seeds, no matter how much it costs. Also that there is more to > all this" she gestured broadly "than meets the eye. Including us." > > For a moment she paused as though deep in thought and then she nodded. > "Follow me," she said and took him round the back of the house. As he > followed her through the plot his eyes goggled at the teeming growth > around him, the irrigation pipes and sprays. Mary stopped at a pile of > what he took, from its smell, to be manure of some kind. > > She bent and picked something up off the ground, gave it to him. It was > a cowhorn. "Hold it with the point down, " she instructed. He did so, > gaping as she picked up a handful of manure and stuffed it into the > horn, packing it down tight. When it was full she stopped the end with > earth, took the horn from his hand and placed it in a hole in the ground > which she had dug for that purpose an hour before. He saw she angled the > horn slightly, point uppermost. > > "Almost a hundred years ago," she said, apropos of nothing, "A European > man called Rudolf Steiner with off-world help gathered together the > wisdom of the ages as it relates to the four elements and the growing of > plants. With insights born of a keen brain, study, research, > experimentation and personal sacrifice, he developed a system of natural > agriculture which we call 'biodynamics' or BD. > > "Part of my acceptance includes burying the cowhorn in that hole on the > night of the winter solstice and digging it up about five and a half > months later. When I do so, this is what I shall find." > > Mary picked up another cowhorn, unstoppered it and tipped the contents > on to a board. Without speaking, she took a spade, dug into the ground, > unearthed a small wooden box, placed it next to the small pile and > removed the lid. > > "Now I know why I buried that there last winter." The woman grinned at > his look of mystification. "Look at the two substances. This from the > cowhorn is granular; this in the box resembles petrified cowdung. Which > it is, in fact. If I take a minute portion of the first, liquidise it, > add my own energy to the energy it already contains, and spray it on my > garden, everything will grow in abundance. Are you a Christian?" > > A little taken aback at the change of direction, he nodded abruptly. She > smiled again. "It is said that Jesus of Nazareth turned water into wine, > a few loaves and fishes into enough food to feed a multitude, and > performed other miracles. Do you know how he did that?" Her eyes > searched his face as though looking for something.. > > "He . . . asked his Father?" > > Patiently, she tried again. "When you put a seed into good soil and > water it, give it some sunshine, it will develop, burst open and grow a > shoot. The shoot pops up above the ground and as long as you care for it > continues to grow until it may be very large. How does it do that?" > > "Heat from the sun?" The man looked round at the irrigation pipes. > "Moisture from the ground . . rainwater?" > > She said nothing. > > Without warning, he picked up some of the granular material, felt it, > let it trickle through his fingers. "Energy!" he said softly but > forcefully. "That's it, isn't it? Energy from the soil, from the sun, > from the rain, from the very air itself. And from me, from within me. > That's important, isn't it?" > > Her smile was like a burst of golden light. "Yes. Oh, the plant would > grow without you but not as well as it could. Or should. Energy is > everywhere around us; in the morning when the earth is putting out its > own, the leaves sparkle and the air vibrates; in the afternoon, one can > feel the rhythm of life sinking back into the soil as flowers close and > leaves curl up. When you work with the soil, digging and composting, you > are putting your own energy into it. Plant your seeds in late afternoon > or early evening and water them well; harvest the fruit in the morning > or early afternoon to obtain the best taste or fragrance. > > "You are the key, the driver, of it all. The garden is yours, you are > its Custodian, its Carer. Without you it is directionless, plants will > grow to suit themselves. In the same way as a farm without a farmer is > driverless, and the different parts - stock, buildings, machinery, > paddocks, soil - are just components existing separately instead of > operating as a whole, supporting and nourishing each other, so it is > with your garden." > > ************* > > When the man reached home, he went into his study, lit the oil lamp and > took from its crowded shelves a manuscript which he laid on the desk > open at the next blank page. Plucking the quill pen from its holder, he > dipped it into an inkwell, shook it to clear a drop from the end, wrote > a few words on the page, blotted it carefully and left the room. > > The words sparkled in the beam from the lamp. "Today I learned about > BD500." Below them a small r entwined with an s. > > ******************** > > > roger > > > > > > > > >
