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8793Medicinal Compound

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  • starbirdgarden
    Jul 1 4:29 AM
      Dear Maurice,
      You really lightened my day with that Lily the Pink post. I bet others found it
      useful too. I am known in my family as a mad person who eats only veggie organics
      and never touches orthodox medicine, relying on herbs, homeopathic remedies,
      drinking water and the very effective remedy, clay. Clay, I suppose because of the
      suctional force of the life ether, is quite amazing, drawing toxicity selflessly into
      itself. The Christ truly penetrates the earth. One is reminded of Him mixing earth
      and spittle in healing. The point is, I am not allowed to give my Mother anything, and
      do not like to do so surreptitiously, because my brother lives with her and has final
      responsibility, and he would not like it. I can only pray for her.
      Lily the Pink sounds amazing. I had no idea that she was a real person, and such a
      wonderful one, whom I would have loved to meet. Mallow is a plant very dear to my
      heart, and oddly enough this is the first summer for years that the nature spirits have
      failed to bring one into my garden. As children we called the fruits fairy cheeses.
      Comfrey is a plant full of life force and vigour. IIt comes up everywhere around here.
      Bees love both plants, and that is good enough for me. I shall certainly try that
      remedy. Thank you very much.
      The mention of Lily made me laugh because I remembered the song, and how a
      boyfriend of mine used to drive a group of friends everywhere in a van so rusty that
      we called it?s ceiling the starry roof. We used to sing that song, altering the verses
      to suit different friends and their various peculiarities, until we broke down or, more
      usually, were stopped by the police, who once grew very excited about a stick of
      conte crayon carefully wrapped in tin foil (because it was precious to a young artist)
      and a New Testament ? Ere, wot you doing with this?
      The van finally fell apart, but when I was seventeen, having polio, I was given an
      In-valid car, and I mean invalid. They were appropriately called Tippins after the
      manufacturer, and being tall and narrow and three wheeled, they tipped over
      constantly. They had pram type roofs, and motorbike engines, with a kind of
      handlebar, and were terribly dangerous.
      My father taught me to drive with the memorable maxim, ?Treat it like a Churchill
      tank and go like a bat out of hell.? Which I did and never got hurt. I did get chased
      by the police once, however, with my husband of several days crouched illegally on
      the floor, eyes closed in terrified prayer, speeding along in the early hours of the
      morning at full throttle. I did hear the sirens, but couldn?t believe they were after me.
      The policeman?s first words were, ? we?ve been trying to catch you all through Notting
      Hill Gate? the only thing that saved me from being charged was how ridiculous it
      would have made him sound, chasing an invalid car.
      I am fascinated by your life on the oil rig, so different to mine, which is one thing I
      am growing to love about these postings. Bradford?s wedding was wonderful, and I
      would never have seen anything so amazing in England. I loved it. We really get to
      share in things that we would otherwise never know.
      Your honesty saved the day when you oiled everything so liberally. You reminded
      me of my father, who refused ever to lie, even when my sister and I begged him to
      tell some ex boyfriend that we were not in. He used to say that a man should scorn
      to tell a lie.
      He was wild and wonderful, and happily tossed us children into freezing seas and
      rivers, which we loved, made me struggle up Arthur?s Seat (the easy side) knew every
      bird and plant by its Latin and common name, could work wood, and metals, make
      anything out of anything and recite long narrative poems such as How Horatio kept
      the Bridge,

      ?And those at the back cried forward,
      and those at the front cried back!?

      They would, wouldn?t they? He loved that line. Hated war, armies and anything
      uniform. He never accepted that policemen, for instance had the right to tell him
      where he could park, and we wived in dread of his being arrested. We shall not see
      the like of that generation again.
      Thinking of the etherising type of oil makes me think of Steiner?s statement that Paul
      walked the lands of the Olive Tree.
      Here is something I wrote about a very special plant my father showed me.

      Soloman's Seal

      A day came when my father said,
      Come! Something wonderful to see!
      Lifted me upon his shoulders.
      I rode as a queen
      Whose realm was green and gold and green.
      Brambles were spiteful to his boots
      Bracken fell broken before leather leggins
      Stained with sap
      While I swayed precious and safe and free,
      Tree high, pulling at leaves
      Pulling at leaves and branches and leaves
      His accented voice sang
      Wedded the day and warmed the air
      That was strung with bees.
      This his element
      This gentle man whose boyhood days
      Had roamed the Scottish hills
      Had walked the hills and truly knew the hills
      Whose lore and love of birds
      Had spread his fame from glen to glen
      Ye ken, they said, the Laddie Farquharson
      He'll know this plant, this bird, this tree -
      And we, on a day become a memory
      We came upon an ancient mound
      Where something wonderful waited
      Where my own sword was to be
      Fitted to my hand forever -
      And there he set me down
      Amid the springing green and gold and green
      Tall firs flung themselves like spears
      At the sun for utter love.
      Above, birds piped and chanted
      And something wonderful grew in long grass
      Grew and arched and spread
      Taking space into new shapes and signs and shapes
      Green leaves paired
      And bees gatherred gold in secret
      From the white toothed hanging flowers
      And hours passed, or seemed like hours -
      Backlit, a greenfly walked a blade of grass
      Passed into emerald
      Passed into the day and into my heart
      Stamped, imprinted and sealed
      With Solomans Seal.

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