For this ritual, I used several different crystals as mediums between plants. One was exclusively for indoor plants, another for wild plants, and another to talk between the other two crystals.
Indoors: The crystal was placed for several hours on the soil of a potted plant, very near the base of the stem or trunk. I would then hold the crystal in my left hand while taking notes with my right. Then I would whisper to the crystal to please relay the message to another plant, and I would place the crystal in the next pot. When writing with the crystal I could feel a conversation that was calm, centered on drifting through the seasons. Their vocabulary for moving through time is something I feel drawn to remembering in my body while I eat, walk, dreaming about the possibilities of this world. I also watched Kenneth Anger's INAUGURATION OF THE PLEASURE DOME with the indoor plants.
Outdoors: This crystal moved between wild plants, meaning only plants whose seeds were transported by birds or the wind. The guardedness I was feeling at one point while writing with the crystal after it had been sitting with a plant did not make sense until I realized that the meadow within a few feet of it had been mowed. How could I not realize this right away? There I was in my human body not thinking that -- literally -- THOUSANDS of other plants had been freshly chopped to their knees, their bodies were strewn everywhere, their strong odor of chlorophyll pouring from their wounds in the hot sun.
In the past, I have used crystals to speak between trees and other plants and animals, but with this one, I am finding a new relationship to the language I am receiving for the poems. What I can glean from listening to them in these writing sessions, the plants are telling me that their ability to change carbon dioxide into oxygen is what is also transforming my words I write. Maybe, in fact, a better word is translate, like the leaves are acting as a translation device. It feels like a sentence in the conversation comes back with one word changed, giving a completely new interpretation to both the ritual and the resulting poem. The leaves are telling me they are a mirror, but nothing like the kind we humans have any real experience with. Most of this information came to me when I was holding the third crystal, the one that I occasionally placed between the indoor and wild plant crystals. While the outdoor, wild plant crystal had more life-threatening circumstances, there was beneath that a similar vibration as the indoor plant crystal's language for the movement of time, though more urgent, a pulsing pressure running through my body. I place the crystal under my pillow for that song of time to enter my sleeping body and my sleeping travel of dreams. Vegetables, sisters, brothers, unfurl a bit more with me in the poem.