Champagne Supernovalis, final

One of the most fascinating aspects of Novalis, besides his Pollen, is a small reference in his work to what I consider to be a shamanic journey.

The young man lost himself, by degrees, in sweet fancies, and fell asleep. He dreamed first of immeasurable distances, and wild unknown regions. He wandered over seas with incredible speed; strange animals he saw; he lived with many varieties of men, now in war, in wild tumult, now in peaceful huts. He was taken captive and fell into the lowest wretchedness. All emotions rose to a height as yet unknown to him. He lived through an infinitely variegated life; died and came back; loved to the highest passion, and then again was forever parted from his loved one.

The symbol of the whole German Romantic movement came to be a small, bright blue flower, or indeed all blue flowers. Some have narrowed this down to the Forget-me-not, a tiny, electric blue blossom that comes up early in the spring. The birth home of Novalis, now a museum, features a garden of blue flowers.

In my work with bees, I have learned that they can see a broader range of blues of ultra-violet tones than people can see, and that they often see swathes of flowers, meadows of flowers, all in blue. Novalis’ next section in his journey describes a bee encountering a flower.

But what attracted him infinitely most was a high, light-blue flower, which stood close by the spring, touching it with its broad glittering leaves. Round it stood innumerable flowers of all colours, and the sweetest perfume filled the air. He saw nothing but the blue flower; and gazed on it long with nameless tenderness. At last he was for approaching, when all at once it began to move and change; the leaves grew more resplendent, and clasped themselves round the waxing stem; the flower bent itself towards him; and the petals showed like a blue spreading ruff, in which hovered a lovely face. His sweet astonishment at this transformation was increasing, when suddenly his mother's voice awoke him...

And finally, I’ll leave you with this Novalis-pollen grain:

The blossom is the symbol of the secret of our knowing.