The Archive of Eden

Primal instincts have compelled me to begin saving seeds for the inevitable downfall of civilization as we know it.

I’m kidding… mostly.

But this hasn’t strictly been a pragmatic endeavor for me.

A seed contains the entire instruction manual for the unimaginably long evolutionary journey of a plant species. You put it in the ground with measured optimism, and somehow that kernel of information develops into a germinated sprout, then a juvenile plant, growing upwards and onwards into whatever it's destined to be, whether that's an eight-foot mammoth sunflower or a head of lettuce.

I’ve been collecting seeds in the form of little packets of hope for $2-$5 a piece, each one a wish as I slide them into my binder, a kind of archive of eden. I get them with my EBT card, a long-term investment in double and tripling food, a Garden IRA, a Seeds & Produce 500 if you will.

I was five when I planted my first seed. They told me at school that if you put a seed in the dirt, a plant would grow. So one day in kindergarten, after an arts and crafts activity where we glued seeds to the edges of a picture frame, I peeled one off and planted it in the backyard. I am, and always have been, a self-starter.

To my utter amazement, a plant grew immediately, and on it a green bean, to which I plucked off and ate. What they said was true, and magic was real.

It was my first and last bean for a very long time as my family was oriented around spending time out on the water rather than in the garden, but in me the magic bean lived on, waiting for unused soil latent with potential, longing for a place that is safe and viable enough for hope to be planted.

Lines of onions curing on weathered wood. Jars of sauces, pickles and jams in the pantry. Strands of edible sunlight next to oils and vinegars of pressed gold and aged oak. Companion flowers and companion herbs for the Monarch’s long journey home. Holy basil and sacred thyme. Jeweled amethyst eggplants and ruby red radish. I see stories in all of them.

But the Archive of Eden remains only an archive, an internal garden I tend to within the sterile, unaffordable, unnatural world I've inherited.

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Something that surfaced in my mind’s eye recently is an oracle card from the first oracle deck I ever purchased. It’s “Make a Wish” from the Nature’s Whispers Oracle Cards.

I like this card as insight into manifestation. To me, it’s far less forceful and commercial than the mainstream spiritual interpretation where one must ask for everything and anything and allow the universe to provide.

“Ask for more. The universe isn’t on a budget 💁🏼‍♀️”

"What's meant for you is already on its way 💁🏼‍♀️”

"Raise your vibration and abundance will follow 💁🏼‍♀️”

🙄😒

Instead, the woman on the card, ordained in trees and growth, blows the wishes out into the wind, relinquishing control to the elements, letting chance decide.

The seeds might land in the soil or in the gutter, and yet she breathes into them anyway. She doesn’t negotiate with the wind. She doesn’t demand that every seed take root. She just scatters them.

So I will keep collecting things for a future I don’t yet have and am not guaranteed.

Every seed in my binder is a wish.

I don’t have them because I expect they will all germinate, but because not having them would guarantee that none of them ever could.

In light of the 8 month we’re in, which is about manifestation and also happens to be my personal month number, (something I’ve already talked about here) I made a vision board solely made out of Pepe memes to get me in the spirit lol✨

Enjoy ✨🦋