Finding Myself in Earthseed: Parable in Real Time

7

We are all Godseed, but no more or less

so than any other aspect of the universe,

Godseed is all there is— all that

Changes. Earthseed is all that spreads

Earthlife to new earths. The universe is

Godseed. Only we are Earthseed. And the

Destiny of Earthseed is to take root among

the stars.

EARTHSEED: THE BOOKS OF THE LIVING

Saturday, April 26, 2025

Sometimes naming a thing— giving it a name or discovering its name— helps me to begin to understand it. Knowing the name of a thing and knowing what that thing is for gives me even more of a handle on it.

The particular God-Is-Change belief system that seems right to me will be called Earthseed. I’ve tried to name it before. Failing that, I’ve tried to leave it unnamed. Neither effort has made me comfortable. Name plus purpose equals focus for me.

Well, today, I found the name, found it while I was weeding the back garden and thinking about the way plants seed themselves, windborne, animalborne, waterborne, far from their parent plants.

They have no ability at all to travel great distances under their own power, and yet, they do travel. Even they don’t have to just sit in one place and wait to be wiped out. There are islands thousands of miles away from anywhere— the Hawaiian Islands, for example, and Easter Island— where plants seeded themselves and grew long before any humans arrived.

Earthseed.

I am Earthseed. Anyone can be. Someday, I think there will be a lot of us. And I think we’ll have to seed ourselves farther and farther from this dying place.

I’ve never felt that I was making any of this up— not the name Earthseed, not any of it. I mean, I’ve never felt that it was anything other than real: discovery rather than invention, exploration rather than creation. I wish I could believe it was all supernatural, and that I’m getting messages from God. But then, I don’t believe in that kind of God. All I do is observe and take notes, trying to put things down in ways that are as powerful, as simple, and as direct as I feel them. I can never do that. I keep trying, but I can’t. I’m not good enough as a writer or poet or whatever it is I need to be. I don’t know what to do about that. It drives me frantic sometimes. I’m getting better, but so slowly.

The thing is, even with my writing problems, every time I understand a little more, I wonder why it’s taken me so long— why there was ever a time when I didn’t understand a thing so obvious and real and true.

Here’s the only logic puzzle in it all, the only paradox, or bit of illogic or circular reasoning or whatever it should be called:

Why is the universe?

To shape God.

Why is God?

To shape the universe.

I can’t get rid of it. I’ve tried to change it or dump it, but I can’t. I cannot. It feels like the truest thing I’ve ever written. It’s as mysterious and as obvious as any other explanation of God or the universe that I’ve ever read, except that to me the others feel inadequate, at best.

All the rest of Earthseed is explanation— what God is, what God does, what we are, what we should do, what we can’t help doing…Consider: Whether you’re a human being, an insect, a microbe, or a stone, this verse is true:

All that you touch,

You Change.

All that you Change,

Changes you.

The only lasting truth

Is Change.

God

Is Change.

I’m going to go through my old journals and gather the verses I’ve written into one volume. I’ll put them into one of the exercise notebooks that Cory hands out to the older kids now that there are so few computers in the neighborhood. I’ve written plenty of useless stuff in those books, getting my high school work out of the way. Now I’ll put one to better use. Then, someday when people are able to pay more attention to what I say than to how old I am, I’ll use these verses to pry them loose from the rotting past, and maybe push them into saving themselves and building a future that makes sense.

That’s if everything will just hold together for a few more years.

Some books don’t just tell a story. They become a mirror. A companion. A warning. A prayer.

Parable of the Sower by Octavia E. Butler was published in 1993, but somehow it feels like it was written just for this moment. Set in the year 2025, the novel follows the journal of a young Black woman named Lauren Olamina as she navigates a collapsing America. Climate disaster, unchecked capitalism, privatized police forces, and mass displacement define the world around her. Amid the chaos, Lauren creates a new belief system called Earthseed, grounded in the idea that “God is Change.” What’s especially chilling is that the America in Butler’s novel is being led by a dictator whose campaign slogan is verbatim: "Make America Great Again.”

I first read the book during a turning point in my life. And I know now that part of my attachment is as much to the incredible story as it is to who I was while turning each page. I was evolving, shedding old versions of myself, even as I tried desperately to cling to what felt familiar. Octavia Butler is, without question, my favorite author. I'm still trying to figure out if she was a prophet or simply someone who listened really, really closely to the world and the people around her. I appreciate how she doesn’t try to flatter humanity or the trajectory of our choices and behaviors. Instead, she asks us to reckon with who we actually are and forces us to face it - our flaws, our fears, our patterns, and our capacity for both destruction and change, the most shameful, taboo parts of our primal human instincts. Her stories always carry this undercurrent of spiritual reckoning, this idea that before we can grow, we have to be honest about what needs to be transformed. She seemed to understand that we are a volatile species, constantly on the brink of either evolution or annihilation.

Reading Parable of the Sower reminded me that change is not the enemy. Change is the thread that binds all of life. If you don’t repot a plant as it grows, it becomes rootbound, tangled, and stuck. People aren’t much different. We need new soil, new environments, new challenges to keep growing. Change is not something we survive. It’s something we are.

What strikes me most is Lauren’s deep sense that she is not inventing anything new, but rather uncovering something that has always been there. I want to carry that into my artistic pursuits, I think it relieves a lot of the pressure I put on myself to come up with the most novel, never-seen-before work. The idea of discovery instead of invention, of exploration rather than creation makes the artistic process more of an investigative, scientific approach rather than a pressure cooker. I want to ask questions and make people talk about shit they wouldn't normally be talking about and think about things in ways they never have before.

I relate heavily to Lauren’s feelings of inadequacy as a writer, and also as an actor. That familiar frustration of feeling like you are not good enough yet, like the words you want to say are so much bigger and truer than what you can actually get onto the page or out of your mouth. I know the pain of looking back at something I wrote or auditioned for years ago, seeing how obvious the missing piece is now, and wondering how I ever missed it. I know what it feels like to stockpile ideas and dreams and stories, hoping that by the time people are ready to take me seriously, I will have everything lined up and ready to go.

I also connect to Lauren’s longing for stability, the desperate hope that the world will just hold together for a few more years so the seeds we are planting can take root. Reading this passage on the same day in 2025 feels especially heavy. We are living under the shadows of people who want to drag us backwards, leaders who cling to broken versions of "greatness." In that environment, Lauren’s focus on change as a sacred force feels incredibly comforting. It reminds me that survival is not about staying the same; it is about growing, adapting, and finding new ways to reach toward the future. it's especially fitting as I prepare for a big move.

Earthseed is not just a belief system in Lauren’s world. It is a lifeline. And honestly, it feels like one for me too at times.

P.S. Not sure if Parable of the Sower has made it onto the book-to-screen adaptation list yet, but if it has, I would LOVE to audition for Lauren. I would take the absolute best care of her!!

Check out the passage from April 26, 2025 below and the Parable in Real Time substack for more.

Love always,

Illustration by Jordan Moss for MOLD Magazine.