The Norway Maple is good, because the sap when you lick it resurrects one’s very soul. Why? Because the syrup of the Norway Maple it’s real blood of the earth come pouring out of the bark. The Norway Maple is a major inter-terrestrial conduit for churning light to take on the dank dark of the earth. For us to sip and then arise back up again. Powered by the Sun as we are. For the Norwegians we’re the children of the Sun. Even as we are surrounded by a simulated Borg. The likes of which massacred our ancestors on a smorgasbord chopping block. The Borg create islands. The Borg divide and conquer. Turn everyone against each other. The children of the Sun we in stark contrast to the Borg, well, we out of our great diversity travel the psychedelic waves of flowers and fun. We the children of the Sun travel the psychedelic waves of flowers and fun and thereby do we celebrate the many as we become part of the one. The oneness of metaphysical love and light. The light though it can also blind one. And needless to say, anyone with half a brain know’d that the light keeps on expanding. No matter what. Ya’ll keep on expanding until you either incinerate straight out like the devil himself or turn to random chaos nonsense like the monsters of the deep. Well, wouldn’t now be a good time for some nice Norway Maple syrup? A little something to bring you back to your roots. Yum! The mana of Mama Maya is the womb to which we must all return if we want to continue the journey of eternal light and love. Not just to refortify ourselves but also to reconstitute our very souls. And, in that way resurrect per a spiritual structure that will continue to stand the tests of time. In lightness and love! Otherwise, to exist outside the light of our Lord. I say, impossible. Also, what’s the point! There’s simply no replication to replace the experience of our walk-a-bout as we go about the Camino Real. La Via Dolorosa. The crucifixion dive of the doves. To where the feu follet swarm. Mama Maya, moreover, is a spiritual testing ground and the time-tested way to recalibrate our metaphysical compasses. Walking the walk is how we know just what our spirit is good for, given the weighty challenges in this magical land of gravity. As I resurrect myself during this lifetime on Mama Maya, my ancestors the gray squirrels speak with me via an ancient wisdom that is so far timeless. For us it’s an eternal voice rising in the east since the times of Genesis. It’s who we are now. Our third eye Augenblick of eternal divinity. Each morning when I look out my kitchen window, I see the gray squirrels playing on the Norway Maple that graces my cottage garden. After all this time, play still is the most fundamental production of our great Creator. The one whose design reflects poetic justice, beauty, and the divinity of delight. In that respect isn’t this still the Halo-cene era? And hasn’t it always been? The gray squirrels, who are my Celtic, Nordic, and Jewish-Gypsy ancestors. Yesterday as today there’s nothing holographic about us. The ancestors as always delight in a divine spectacle. The squirrels bring joy to my heart, as I watch them revel at our little Garden of Eden and family homestead. The squirrels play as we also sow all kinds of seeds in the garden. In that way are the best reapers also the best sowers, and vice-versa. Very good taste to it.