I want to do a little talking about the Blue beginning—the way I picture the Blues, their matter, and what their journey means to me.
In that picture, Blues never worry, especially about survival. There are no words. Just energies and vibrations. Not really noise, either—symphonies, choruses, and melodies. They communicate kind of like dolphins.
Words are messy. Too much for Blues, for sure. There are no pleases or thank-yous, just the action of matter. It’s felt, not said.
Blues don’t have disagreements. They have differences. That’s how they learn to navigate relationships and vibrations, learning what each gives.
Participation equals hydration
I picture Blues as muscle, limbs, tendons, and matter. They are their own water source: what they give, and the quality of it, comes back to them in precipitation.
Participation equals hydration.
As the hours wind down, precipitation gathers in little pools—craters of water and crystallization sticks. All their elements belong to that cycle.
Then there’s gold. Gold and Blue life. I’m not sure where it all belongs or what it’s all for, but that’s part of why it feels so precious.
In my picture of Vegetation Island, there is always a gold option. Everything new to Blue comes with gold. Matter that doesn’t make it to moon phase is golden—a gift the Blues leave behind.
Blues had gold, and they had enough. That word stays with me: enough.
What have we evolved into?
I don’t picture Blues having sexual relationships, or living with jealousy, fear, and confusion. So when I think about our human evolution, I have questions. Where did all of this come from? Where are we going?
We should never have shamed women who didn’t want babies into wanting them. We’ve found new ways to create life, but I also wonder about the ways we’ve been destroying it. People, places, things, even animals—what have we become, and what have we helped create?
The Blues continue in my thoughts, but sometimes I picture them going somewhere else while we lose our way here.
All right. Regroup.
Let the matter lead the way
I think of a timid Blue in earth phase, still learning what brightens their light.
That’s like me. I wasn’t being allowed to evolve at my own rate. I needed to go to big sky country. Best place in the world.
When I think about earth phase, I think about learning to care for yourself. When you’re hurt, wounded, or ill, that need for care comes forward again. For me, earth phase is a way of thinking about returning to that work.
Let the matter lead the way. Follow the matter. Let it realign you.
Whatever you do, do it well. It will lead to more matter. Matter clings to better matter. That’s what matters.
Matter to matter is how it works.
A lesson from the Blues
From my writing dated May 27, 2024.
When you are given a gift, treat it with the utmost respect and care. Every gift is unique to your matter. It is yours to explore, to interpret, and to see what comes from it.
Document what you find. Respect it enough to keep it close.
No one needs to know the first exciting idea. They didn’t receive your gift. Give yourself room to understand it before you invite everyone else into it.
It doesn’t need to be diluted. It doesn’t need extra DNA or spit added to it. Treat it as one of a kind.
Don’t hurt it, disrupt it, or stop it. Let it flow. Let it be between you and God and the universe.
The Blues’ rules are very simple: use what’s yours, and only what’s yours, because that’s enough. You live in an abundance of your gifts. Put them to use with your own touch.
Create your personal elixir, and then share. But keep the prototype in your head. Keep that original close.
That’s a lesson from the Blues.
Because Brooks 