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Guiding Today’s Research Into Its Idiom

Trying to write about my daily pursuits and purposes, I often find myself visualizing this old warehouse of facts and fiction, at times quite neglected and therefore structured in a rather confusing order without any signage, a world on its own to timelessly wander around in, be amazed by its distinct senseless logic and the perspicuous messages provided but nevertheless misunderstood, always, as a rule, and then meticulously embellish the felt void with eccentric phrases to pretend I still know what I’m talking about, which I only occasionally do.

Last night had been cold and wet, I noticed early this morning, with no pressing need to go pick hawthorn berries, but I chose to anyway as a distraction from too current worldly affairs, not even my world but on the other side of the ocean.
I have come to appreciate the hawthorns spiritual and medicinal values long time ago, abundant protection being the key words that linger, anything heart related too, making picking its berries a sagacious use of time otherwise lost, casting its shadow forward not just because of the necessary processing following later today, but guiding today’s research into its idiom.

This is how I came to ‘meet’ Thomas the Rhymer, a.k.a. Sir Thomas de Ercildoun or True Thomas, a Scottish laird and reputed prophet in the 13th century, who supposedly met the Fairy Queen by a hawthorn bush from which a cuckoo was calling. She led him into the Otherworld for a short visit, but when he emerged he found that seven years had passed and he gained the gift of prophecy, as well as the inability to tell a lie, his tales surviving time in a medieval verse romance in five manuscripts.

There must be a fundamental quality in almost instantly finding the antipode of who I was looking to be distracted from in the first place, right there in Les Pierres’ orchard. It will probably take me a while though to figure out, observing True Thomas and Deceitful Donald fight their battles in that whimsical arbitrariness of the grimy repository of my daily undertakings.

Hopefully, when their dust settles, I can still cook some jelly, dry some tea, make some vinegar, wine, tincture or serum today. If not, tans pis.


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