Paradise Found
Spring Edition Volume 1 Number 4
Publisher...Bathsheba Monk
Editor...Joanne Fanny Barry foundparadise8@gmail.com Allentown, Pennsylvania Tulum, Mexico
CoverPhotobySharon“Shaz”Smith Shazisaworldtraveler,adventurer,andphotographer.Sherecentlypublishedabookof photosfromvisitsacrosstheAfricancontinentspanning30yearsaswellasamemoir aboutherill-fatedromanceinZimbabwe. ThisphotoisofaMaasimangatheringelephantdungtomakeafire.
Page 5 Photo by Sharon “Shaz” Smith
Page 6 Mother Knows Best by Bathsheba Monk
Page 8 Photo by Jane Noel
Page 9 Home by Joanne Fanny Barry
Page 11 Photo by Jane Noel
Page 12 Volcanoes by Julie Griswold
Page 13 Photo by Julie Griswold
Page 14 Spring Fields by G. Bruce Boyer
Page 17 Mother Dear by Dancing Bear
Page 19 Photo by Bathsheba Monk
Page 20 The Time Was Exactly Two Forty-Five on a Monday
Page 23 Eggs produced by Vera’s chickens
Page 26
A view of Earth taken by NASA astronaut and Artemis II Commander Reid Wiseman from one of the Orion spacecraft’s windows after completing the translunar injection burn on April 2, 2026. The image features two auroras (top right and bottom left) and zodiacal light (bottom right) is visible as the Earth eclipses the Sun. Credit: NASA
Mother knows best
As a toddler, “out in the yard” meant a mostly muddy 100 square foot patch of grass with a sandbox in the middle where my brothers and I would carve roads and overpasses, landing strips, and other things that didn’t interest me.SoIwouldstumbletothemuddypatchandeatdirt.
Olemotherearth.Yum.
Everyonewasappalled,ofcourse.
My mother gave me a cookie to distract me from the dirt eating. But itdidnogood.Ihelditup,soitwouldn’tgetdirty,andcontinuedtoeatdirt.
Notsomethingyoubragabout.
Iprobablyshouldn’tbetellingyouthisevennow.
Much later, I read that if a kid eats dirt, it’s a good thing. There are all kinds of things in there that you need. Microbes. Minerals. Things you don’t getfromcookies.
It’s the reason I take my house cats outside for walks. There are microbes in theearththatcatsneedtothrive.Andat13yearsold,they’rekickin’it. Motheralwaysknowsbest.
ThethemeofthisissueofParadiseFoundisSpring/Dirt/Earth
In a world and time where we’re looking for something to connect us, the answer is right under our feet. We are children of Gaia, the expression of life’s urgetobeborn.
You are here to experience life on this earth in this time. I don’t know what the life force is or what it wants from us, if it wants anything at all, and neither do you. But let’s turn the tables: we need the earth for everything. Food, for starters.Water.Atmosphere.
Even connection. When I was eating this dirt, my brothers were busy digging through the sand “to China” they said. This was the only thing that interested me enough to abandon eating the dirt and pick up the cookie, interested in our brothersontheothersideoftheearth.
LittledidIknowthen,thattheywerediggingtoo—tofindus.
We’reallinthistogether.Earth.Let’sbegoodtoher.
Home
“Just come home,” she told me. I stopped crying long enough to say, “Thanks,” then “I love you,” and then a heartfelt, “Take care.” The connection dropped. But not really. An echo of home lingered in my consciousness joining a gentle activation in the solar plexus chakra, manipura, a warmth building confidence and self esteem. I closed my eyes and felt the rivulets tears had formed on my cheeks and my chin. The echo repeated, “Just go home.”
Where is that now?
Anxiety swiftly returned, like a spring rain in the tropics. I’d done everything wrong. Definitely unable to get it right, whatever that is. Right had escaped me for years. I buried my hands in the dog’s fur as she pushed her head into my chest as if to say, “C’mon. You’ve done a few things very much ok.” I pushed back, rubbing my forehead into hers, “Yes, very much ok. But nothing so great.”
She left, bored with my depression and my inability to acknowledge that ok was, well, ok. So, I sat my body down firmly on the ground and stuck my toes in the grass, not caring if a spider or bee or even a scorpion were disturbed by my neediness. My toes squirmed in, wide and then my fingers joined them, grabbing at the dirt. I sunk my nails in, knowing I’d have to dig the dark lines out. But I dug anyway, needing grounding, needing support. Unable to manage it, I let the earth take over.
She can, you know. When it all becomes too much, way too much, when you feel you can’t go home, shed into her. She absorbs our negativity, our fear, all the imbalance. And she gives that confidence, that activation of your energy. Don’t worry. She can take it. She’ll hold you. She’ll remind you, ok is enough. In fact, she’ll help you know ok is more than enough. She’s the mother after all. She’s earth. And she’s home. Joanne Fanny Barry
Volcanoes,likepeople,existonvariousspectrums,eachonewithitslimits,moodiness andvariability.Iworkmostlyonthegreyones;gasrich,utterlyexplosive,self destructivemountains.Whentheyblow,theyexplodeinglassyshardsandpiecesof silica-richrockthatcuttheairandanythingintheirpath.Butthere’sthatspectrum wherethehotcrimsonrediseffusivewithmoltenlavaandincandescentfirefountains thatlightuptheskyandtheimagination.Theyembodyprimalenergy,likethisredoneI workedonin2018.Youseeonlyoneofthetwodozenventsthatactivatedalonga fissureinaresidentialneighborhooddownriftfromKilaueavolcanoontheBigIslandof Hawai’i. Peopleloosehomesbuttypicallynottheirlivesinthestaggeringheatofthe redvolcanoes.Butthegreysdon’tgiveyouthatsecondchance.Besttoleavewhen yourownprimalintuitionortheauthoritysays. Oryou’llbecomepartoftheirfieryflow.
Julie Griswold Volcanologist
Spring Fields G.BruceBoyer
Springfieldswereseductivelands
Scatteredinthecity’sunplannedgaps
Notyetclaimedbybuilder’shands, Orplanner’seyesongriddedmaps.
Fieldsofbuddingflowersandgremlins
Upfromtheearth’sbalmysoil.
Evenwhenrocksbruisedtheshins
Ofchildrenrunningwildwithjoy, Fieldsweregiftstoanurbanboy.
Dancing Bear Mother Dear
I was born in the midst of many children.
But she was there for me when I arrived My mother.
She cared for me, our famlly and too many others I could not count. She cared for rich and poor. The strong and the weak. She cared for us all. Stature and faith did not matter. And when she saw me she would smile, her bright warm glow filling me with love and nourishment.
As I grew, she continued to nurture me, feeding me, providing water, shelter and safety.
She never asked for anything in return. She loved me with all her heart
Those are days, long ago, I will never forget. And in my heart will keep.
But as I grew older. I needed more. I took from her. I stole when she wasn’t looking. Mocked her, betrayed her.
I lied to her. She knew, but said not a word
Today I am old and past my prime
As I look back, I see the love that has shone on me all the days of my life
But she, too, is sick and ohh so tired. She’s been used and abused.
She bears the scars of many pains, her body worn by all that used her. And as I look back over all these years. I say thank you to the mother of us all.
I say thank you, Mother Earth.
The time was exactly two forty-five on a Monday
Blue humid day
Our grass was over the legal limit Of 6 inches,
More like 12,
When I noticed a sliver of grass
Stretching over the others
Trying to get my attention, Beating in time with my heart.
I moved the lawnmower from sight
It’s rude to cut down a friend. And no, it wasn’t because I was Tired of cutting grass Though I was. And Although I had not previously thought Of a piece of GMO grass as a brother, Once I saw that it was kin, I think it may have even been a cousin That close! I hid the evidence Of my rampage, Of my parricide And we became chummy.
Well, as chummy as a normal creature And a Frankenstein creature can be Tho I have since wondered The obvious.
“A blade of gress is a commonplace on Earth: on Mars it would be a miracle.”
Carl Sagan
“Green, how I want you, green. ”
Federico García Lorca
