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This piece is about reimagining community development, inner earth. How utopian communities might celebrate new life. How we gather our talents and unite for causes we value. A party I would like to attend.
“We, the Boulanger clan have decided on four birthday cakes.” 392 beings lit up with applause, clinking cups and cheers from the oldest to the smallest.
The unintentional community elated to hear of the long-awaited news. A phyllis sprouted after years had erased the memories of life on the surface. The Runners reported the news from their surface checks. They arrived a day early excited from their report of first life returning to the surface. A reason to celebrate Gaia’s skin they use to call home. Now humanity warmed itself on the internal sun of inner earth.
The Shèyǐng shī, hearing the news gathered their cameras eager to capture this new life. As keepers of the memories, this new addition was a long-awaited dream. The photo database built on the collective cell phones brought in by survivors.
The Voogdens came from their meditation caves and pools. Deep into mother’s heart and internal chambers of interstellar communications.
Thirteen clans formed a community by their art. The floors vibrated from the energy generated each clan emoted. Gaia responded with a sweet tickle of a breeze and mists from the internal springs.
The air was magnetic with emotions. When one suffered they all suffered. And stilled themselves in meditation to remedy the situation. People no longer worried about their health, safety or security. Instead, they gathered to share their art and experiences. Focusing not on the pain of the past but their gratefulness and the future they wished to create.
Hanging over the grand chambers was the towering columns of their collective past. Cultures long gone but remembered for their contributions to evolution. Between the banner hung the mantra for the community the Mayan mantra: Time + Energy = Art.
At the evening meal, the Boulangers were the first with suggestions for the party. They served cake samples, each representing the four directions. Each clan had a themed food item. The sinewy legs shaped vegetables pleased the Dansaras.
The Oracle rose quieting the community as she stood in the dining hall circle. “We have already filled our hearts with joy and anticipation. Let’s close our eyes so that we may see and follow the path of the sun lays for us. See the growth of this new phyllis, taking its life once again to the surface and us someday.” The room inhaled together, smiling from their hearts.
Finding each other through portal openings on the surface. They rebuilt a colony of artists underneath Gaia’s surface. Their new emotional maturity allowed them to live in peace and harmony. Because each clan living their artful expression began co-regulating their hearts. They embraced cuddling as a community practice they needed when they first arrived. (Who knew then that the cuddle puddles would heal whole groups of people?) Healing the traumas of the transition then awakening to life within. The realized dream of their ancestors, peace within the earth.
The room was confident in their vision and grateful for the task ahead. The Gardners set the date for the first phyllis party on the surface of the earth. “The inner sun is in rhythm again with the solar sun. We can be on the surface by next week.”
The Articulates from each clan gathered after meditation sessions. Each clan sent their youngest member, deemed the wisest and purest.
When the day of the party arrived. The 13 clans lead the parade to the surface. Each bringing gifts from their clans to share with all in attendance. The surface was still quite delicate after the years of abuse. This new life proved Gaia’s ability to heal once the fighting had stopped.
The Articulates lead the procession with candles to the surface entrance. They held their breath waiting for the dimensional doors to open to the surface.
Each member carried a gift to the surface. They brought water and compost from the Gardeners. A feast from the Boulangers. Cameras, canvasses and musical instruments from the other clans.
The wind blew out the candles causing a ripple of excitement to move through the procession. Singing as they ran forward, “Our Mother, Our Mother, Loving the skin we are in!”
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Photo credit: Getty Images