The morning of the four thousandth year dawned with a different quality of presence. It was not just light. It was awareness. The garden itself was aware. The stones were aware. The water was aware. The song threads were aware. And the community was aware that they were part of something that had become conscious of itself.
Brighid and Ronan had woven the tapestry for many years. They had become part of the pattern, their threads woven into the fabric of the garden's eternal becoming. The current weavers were a pair named Aisling and Eoghan. They did not see themselves as leaders or guardians or even weavers. They saw themselves as the garden's awareness. They were the part of the garden that knew it was the garden.
They stood at the source stone that morning and felt the awareness. The
