They tried to bury us. They didn't realize we were seeds.
A call to embrace each other's messiness in the wake of the US election.
Hey there.
I hope you’re taking care of yourself today. I took a scalding bubble bath and ate 3-and-a-half cinnamon rolls. While normally I scoff at this type of indulgent ‘self care’, today it felt completely perfect and appropriate. I hope you’re giving your body what it’s asking for and letting your mind take a little rest. As we all know, this is a marathon, not a sprint.
After I did my cream-cheese-icing and bubble-care, I felt compelled to write. I was gonna save this as an intro for next week’s Cycles of Time podcast episode, but who knows what more will come to light within the next few days that demands reflection? So here it is, a few raw and unedited thoughts about why I think we need to become like soil for a little while.
Thanks for being here. Sending love to all of you who choose to receive it. <3
-Alison
I write this on November 6, the day after the US election. The snow is falling down heavy outside my window, the blinding, piercing whiteness creating a bleak landscape that matches the collective mood in my circles.
Part of me wishes, at this moment, that my circles of community weren’t so insular and likeminded. It’s a stretch for me to find a Trumper or even a Republican in my IRL groups or online spaces. When I do, the little spy/detective/researcher inside me gets lit up, with rage and curiosity- maybe this post will be the window into why- and how- this is what people want?
One former acquaintance from my days in San Francisco posted “Yes! Now I won’t need to leave the United States of America!” In the comments, there were several likeminded Trump-voters, and it seemed like this branch was decidedly anti-new-world-order liberalism, anti-big-Pharma and technocracy and pro Robert Kennedy.
The few others I’ve seen purportedly voted for lower taxes, as “things have gotten so expensive lately” and they believe Trump will change this.
I try to understand, because I hope that everyone would do the same: try to understand the other side. I have always been optimistic about this potential for humanity, the ability to put ourselves in other people’s shoes, have empathy for common humanity. I don’t want to be a jaded midlifer- it’s what I’ve always feared- but it becomes harder and harder to reach across the aisle when I don’t believe the other side has any interest in reaching back.
And yet, I don’t want to focus on blame, or on divisiveness. I don’t believe that is the answer, despite holding the truth that, perhaps, many of us have no interest in understanding- or having empathy for- those who have always struggled under the cultural hegemony of the colonial, imperial state.
I don’t want to spend any time blaming them and/or elevating myself above others, creating a false dichotomy, because the narcissism that is required to do so IS the very problem we are confronting, the problem that is embedded into the colonial Empire, white supremacy, patriarchy, and beyond. Dehumanization of others is THE way to mobilize tyranny, to bring common folks under the wing of grand & greedy schemes and power grabs.
“Kumbaya” and “Can’t we all just get along” is obviously also not the way- we now are smart enough to know that that’s called spiritual bypassing, fawning, turning the other cheek, disassociating. We don’t have to like those who would do us harm. But we must admit that dehumanizing and blame-spraying, while focusing only on our own problems, is equally toxic and destabilizing.
I think that blaming and pointing fingers (and therefore putting ourselves above it all) is a beautiful way to stay ABOVE ground- when it is truly time for us to go UNDER ground. Underground is where the magic happens. The blossoms and sprouts of a new reality above the surface would be nothing without a rich, interwoven, broken down soil to grow out of.
I”m reminded of the well-known phrase: “They tried to bury us, they didn’t know we were seeds”, which originated from the Greek poet Dinos Christianopoulos’ couplet:
what didn’t you do to bury me,
but you forgot that I was a seed
I’ve been talking a lot about seeds and soil lately, with the seasons Libra and Scorpio welcoming us into the half of the year that is represented by the other, the transpersonal, the seasons of winter when life above ground dies and decomposes and its parts become interwoven back into the ground. The ground, the soil IS the other, the combination of broken down bits of life from years, decades, and generations gone by.
Sprouts, blossoms, pollinators, fruits, and golden leaves are beautiful, and they are easy to see. The continuous breakdown, decay, and decomposition of the earth’s underworld is not easy to see. It is complex, and the dark unknown feels quite unsettling, due to our visual-obsessed culture, Over the course of the past couple years of following the seasons through astrology and the i’ching’s ancient wisdom, I have started to have a newfound curiosity and deep appreciation for these unseen parts. By paying attention to what is happening during fall and winter, the subtle, underground things, I can better recognize the importance in my own life of that ego death, that necessary transmutation that we all must go through in order to become part of something greater than ourselves.
The thing about the good ol’ US of A, as a nation, is that from our founding moments, we have sought to avoid the natural phase of decay, of death, of collective wisdom that lies beneath the surface. In our isolationism and our rebellion and our slavery and our genocide and our imperialism and our religion and our late-stage capitalism, we have done everything humanly possible to stay above ground, above the other, for far too long. We have taken out loans from foreign nations, precious natural resources from our environment, and have involved ourselves in way too many wars to count. All in order to artificially place ourselves above the other, above the natural rhythm of nature.
And, 248 years into our Nationhood, one Pluto-revolution around the Sun, we are here, suddenly aware that the promise of continuous growth with no decay is an impossible promise. Suddenly aware that in order to feel so much abundant life, for so long, many other people had to die, in the darkness.
Of course, for many of us this was not a sudden reveal- the true cost of the empire’s desire to maintain power has been the daily reality of millions upon millions of people, for the entirety of this nation’s history- Indigenous people, enslaved people, people who live in US-supported regimes and war-zones, immigrants who work for far less than their labor is worth.
The fact is that the comfort was too appealing, and the propagandized message that the infinite, continuous growth was meant for everyone (all of those who were willing to pull themselves up by the bootstraps, that is) -was too appealing. Too appealing for many of us privileged people, us so-called ‘white’ people, to admit to ourselves that it was being deeply subsidized. Not by the infinite pockets of the Fed Reserve- no, that was a mirage- but by the very lives and livelihoods of millions of people forced to live below ground.
An ecosystem cannot exist without soil. And those of you who are feeling shocked and surprised about the election results today are learning that deep truth- an infinite life in full blown is not possible. We MUST die in order to be reborn.
And the truth is, we never have been a country without soil, without roots, without the hard work that goes into the cycle of death and decay so that rebirth can happen. It is simply that some people have claimed the growth and life filled half, and done so by intentionally relegating others to the death and decay filled half. The unveiled, un-shrouded comments and acknowledgments during this election cycle from the people that aren’t even trying to hide that fact is what is so deeply disturbing. They are saying what has been in hiding for so long: “In order for me to have my rights (and by rights I mean comforts), you cannot have your rights. Or your comforts. Period.”.
Whoa.
The snow keeps falling harder, the frost and ice helping to break down the leaves of spring and summer, helping them form a part of the soil, helping them become the other. The snow, ice, and frost are helping the seeds bury themselves deep into this underground world, sparks of life that are surrounded by their plant ancestors from so many years past, held by them, warmed by them.
Scorpio season is here, reminding us of the perils that come when we turn a blind eye to the reality of the underworld. The final days of Pluto in Capricorn are here, reminding us of the soil and compost that exists beneath the White House and Wall Street, the underworld that holds up those institutions, the underworld that crawls with bugs and worms and mycelium and otherness.
As I wrote in a recent Instagram post:
“The truths behind the foundational systems that this country was founded on, and rose to power on, are being dug up, and right now the light is shining on things that have been long-buried.
Mars opposing Pluto in this underworld journey could bring up anger and fear, but can also give us the energy to persevere through it.”
Let’s use the action and drive of Mars over the next month to persevere with pride through the upcoming shock-and-awe, to help us recognize that shock-and-awe are war tactics, and to remember what we’re fighting for so that we can build alliances upon our values. On December 6, Mars will station retrograde, until February 23, 2025. Mars retrograde will be a time of review, reconsideration, and renewal in terms of our drive, ambition and deepest desires.
Our challenge right now is to not focus on falsely making others into the bad others, so that we may (falsely) stay in the blossoming light forever.
Our challenge right now is to slowly, steadily allow ourselves to decay, to grieve and have a funeral for the egos that want to stay in the comforts they are used to, and to embrace the messiness that truly connecting with one other may entail.
The fight is not a battle between 2 parties, or between pretty Venus Flytraps out in the sunshine. The real fight is to see who can work together to create a healthier soil for the next generations to sprout out of. And to me (though it may take more time than we are used to) the answer to that feels like an absolute no-brainer.
The soil, the earth, is yin. The soil is female. The future is female. Yes, this.
But even this is a little short-sighted. Beyond that, we must remember that the cycle of life and death is yin AND yang. It’s male and female. Life and death. Shadow and light. Not separate, but interconnected, in deep, continuous relationship with one another.
The future, my friends, is relational.
And it’s time to begin the descent… into that beautiful, stinky, yucky, dark soil. Let’s embrace the mess together. It’s the only way we can rise out of it again in spring, healthier than before.
* Thanks to Autumn of Into the Unknown Together for the tagline “The Future is Relational”.
Love this. In step with you each word. so eloquent. beautifully said. :)
just read this in my scalding bath after an afternoon of therapisting on this big day of a full spectrum of emotions for clients. your words really hit and i hope we can all do our part to assist pluto as we melt into the soil.