God speaks to each of us as he makes us, then walks with us silently out of the night. These are the words we dimly hear: “You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing. Embody me. Flare up like a flame and make big shadows I can move in. Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final. Don’t let yourself lose me. Nearby is the country they call life. You will know it by its seriousness. Give me your hand”. – Rainer Maria Rilke (Book of Hours)
In searching for her place in the order of the natural, existing world – orders, not set by us but ones we’re born into; orders, no more imposed or inflicted than the sun, season, snow or sand – Mary Oliver versed words to live by “To live in this world you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go”. Terrifying in its meaning, it’s the most meaningful way to behold beauty – with its terror. The Spring Highland comes from such a terrifying and beautiful place – Strange, serious yet surprising spring country – where meaning is surpassed only by its seriousness.
Unafraid, vibrant and intimate expressions from the highest harvestable highlands – heights wuthering, wintery and harsh – the Spring highland comes from the Yabukita bushes of the Solitary Spring country – country freshly abloom with meaning – meaning only surpassed by its seriousness. Should you encounter the intense aroma of honey first, do not let yourself be enamored by its beauty– beauty is only the beginning, terrifying notes lurk beneath the translucent, dense elixir – you will know them by their seriousness – seriousness of Clarified Butter ‘Ghee’, Caramelized Onions and Cilantro. Likewise, if a Petrichor and Pepper force you to take heed – wait again- do not give in to terror, beauty lurks nearby – beauty of Rosewater and Sweet condensed-milk. And wait, yet again, should all of it completely evade you – no feeling is final – the fruity, lemony, creamy taste of cake and spices, will swell your being – stretch out the limits of your longing. If the small size of peppery, sweet-smelling leaves befuddle you, you’re not alone – the larger, prettier, more poetic Ouroboros had us enamored too, leaving little to be desired – or so we thought!
“How can I love this spring when it’s pulling me through my life faster than any time before it? When five separate dooms are promised this decade and here I am, just trying to watch a bumblebee cling to its first purple flower. I cannot save this world. But look how it’s trying, once again, to save me”. – James A Pearson (Wilderness that bear your name)
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