I am not a product. I am a meadow of wildflowers.

I feel inspired, humbled, and ecstatic when I see someone achieving something extraordinary. You, too, can embrace that dream and celebrate with me. There's vast space for you to thrive with me, with all of us.

My growth is not a daily obligation. I am free to blossom at my own pace, in my own unique way, unbound by societal expectations. This freedom is liberating and empowering, allowing me to bloom in my own time and in my own way.

As the wise plantain witnesses the bright yellow St John flowers, I can rest among my other wildflower friends, knowing it's their season to flourish. All the while, I dream about the next creation I want to nurture and all the creatures, people, and unseen spirits with whom I'll share this Life.

It's a blessing to know someone else is blossoming and sharing beauty while I take the time to rest, dream, and breathe. I become a resting place for tired working bees. I gift some of my dried leaves to birds to build their nests. In these moments of solitude, I find peace and contentment, knowing that I am on my own journey at my own pace.

This is my wild experiment: holding the tension between my roots and flowers, standing soft and deep, rising slowly, and listening deeply to the land and the stars. To me, this is what it means to birth a true calling. To let the sap of wisdom nourish my core.

I no longer wish to climb artificial ladders that lead to dead lawns in too many hearts. I refuse the numbness that prevents us from feeling the atrocities on what we call in our delusions "the other side of the fence."

I do not want to replace my ancient wild aromas with the putrid smell of fear. In the morning, I want to listen to the songs of the birds instead of the warplanes that would conquer the sky. Those bombs that drop on our shared land are irreversible scars in the unimaginable depths of soul.

All of this leads to the inevitable death of the true Spirit of Life. And I am Life; I am a wild meadow.

I'm not here to be harvested, packaged, sold, and consumed. I cannot be placed in a vase filled with polluted water on a plastic table. I thrive in the rain, on the edge of swollen rivers, and in the muddy soils of ancient knowledge.

I am more connected than any of our devices will ever be. I am in service to humanity more than our convenient stores and asphalt-covered parking lots. I breathe Life and kind words into any lonely heart because I am the seed of ancient Love.

I am here to unfold from the inside, to let the seeds planted in my heart by some mysterious force be watered by the collective grief. I am here to bear the fruits of sweet, unimaginable blessings for this world.

If you listen to me humbly, I will guide you on a path that is not straight or easy. It will lead you to a destination wilder than your dreams and wiser than your sterile, flat highways. Together, we can embark on this courageous quest.

I am a meadow of wildflowers. An open field, growing spontaneously into a harmonious relationship with the sacred land of humanity.

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Angell Deer