Ho'oponopono and the Lesson of Dead Tomatoes
I have some planting beds in my backyard, and can grow tomatoes and other delightful treats. The lettuce and basil this year have been wonderful so far too. Only I went away recently for a homeopathy meeting. During my few days' absence, our Arizona summer arrived with a vengeance. Seriously, you might leave one day with temperatures in the 80's, and return a couple of days later to 100+. It happens that suddenly here. The air shifts from inviting and warm at noon, to searing the skin from your face. Imagine you are a tomato plant, trapped in your spot . . . and the drip irrigation fails . Your human isn't there to know it, and the sun beats down full force too. You are toast in short order. So that is what greeted me when I returned. Dead, brown, sad tomato plants -- yet still bearing some tomatoes. It was eerie; it was as if with their dying gasp, the plants gave up their last red, shiny progeny. "Go forth, make seeds, let us be remembered," they might have been...