#nature's magic

[thesorceresstemple]

[alunah-lalunah]

If there is no self, why do people fear death? It can be compared to discarding an old photograph. While Buddhism teaches the concept of no self, the fear of death persists among us.

The bitter irony is that people don’t fear the loss of a self. They fear the loss of the model that pretends to be one.

If there is no metaphysical self, no soul, no inner owner, then dying isn’t the annihilation of a real entity. It’s simply the shutdown of a predictive model that has been running for decades. Like deleting a file that believed it was the computer.

So why does that model fight so violently to avoid being deleted?

Because the model is built to do exactly that.

Not because “you” want to live, but because the mechanism that produces the illusion of “you” was sculpted by natural selection to defend itself. A self-model that didn’t resist deletion would have no descendants. The ones that panicked, clung, strategized, feared, those survived.

You’re not afraid because you have a self. You’re afraid because you are the fear. The "self" is made of fear.

Memory gives coherence. Prediction gives continuity. The nervous system stitches these fragments into a narrative agent. The narrative agent then defends its own persistence with total seriousness, as if it were a metaphysical jewel instead of processual bookkeeping.

Alzheimer’s shows exactly this. When memory disintegrates, the “person” dissolves. The organism lives; the self-model collapses. What dies early is the illusion.

People bother about death because the self-model can’t do anything else. It defends its own fiction because its function is to maintain coherence long enough for the organism to reproduce and not walk off cliffs. No self is required. The terror of death is simply what it looks like from the inside when a pattern resists termination. And death doesn’t erase a self but the machine that kept insisting there was one.

[follyglass]

Follyglass : Bud

Jasper found it was easier to work after midnights in December; not too many people around, but enough holiday light so he could see his craft. And so when he left his house he dressed in black and made sure to bring his needle. Nobody needed to know what he was up to. It ruined the magic.

On this night, Jasper was headed to a place he had never stitched before. He had only found this particular tree when wandering off into the side lanes of the common meadow that meandered through the village. The tree itself was magnificent; full of sidereal blooms that floated in the breeze. A lovely magnificent tree worthy of attention. But to Jasper, the tree felt very alone.

He selected the first bud - many people don’t know that quite a few plants put out their buds in late fall, but they’re there if you look, sleeping - and he thumbed the velvet sepal, soft as a mouse’s ear, then whispered ‘you are loved, sweet’ and went to work. His needle flashed white as he pulled it around and through, the thread becoming a french knot within the little gray-green nubbin, a small piece of magic that the future starflower would cozy within itself; a spark nestled within the long night of the bud, not due to open until April.

When the sky rose to blue light, his hands were sore from working and tingling from cold, and Jasper had only completed the magic of two hundred flowers. He supposed he could return the next evening and perhaps give more magic to the tree… but sometimes it was better to let them get accustomed to the magic. He would check in spring.

On the way to his bed, he wondered what his needlework might draw to the starry tree. When the blossoms opened, would the magic threads float on the breeze like banners and shine out to the bees? Would they call musical to the doves and the deer? Would they whisper new tales to children? He never knew. The whole process was a bit like making wine, he supposed. He could put his intentions and best ingredients in, but time and the flowers themselves turned the magic Jasper gave them into their own creation.

[maddcactus-art]

While walking through the woods - look for the signs. Broken or twisted twigs, unnaturally turned branches, carved symbols or piles of stones, odd behaviour of animals or bugs may indicate that there is a treasure nearby. Or just admire the nature’s beauty, as Angus does. Commission for @chaotichalfling

Thank you for working with me! }: )

[amphtgrphy]

[adragonfromlyra]

[alexesguerra]

Enchanted Foraging Deck: 50 Plant Identification Cards to Discover Nature's Magic Enchanted Foraging Deck: 50 Plant Identification Cards to Discover Nature's Magic Contributor(s): Gheorghe, Ebony (Author) Publisher: RP Studio ISBN: 0762486465 Physical Info: 1.72" H x 5.75" L x 4.16" W (0.86 lbs) 52 pages Ebony Gheorghe has an academic background in geology and environmental sciences, which naturally informed her love for wild resources, herbalism, and plants. She runs her own business, Nettles and Bees, selling balms, crystals, hair oils, and other products made from foraged materials. When she's not working as a lab technician, she offers foraging workshops for children and adults. She lives in Oxfordshire with her husband and daughter.