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The Earth Is Alive
Apr. 19th, 2021 07:48 am Climate News Is Relentlessly Objectively Grim. Should We Ever Allow Ourselves To Feel Optimism?
I finally think we're beginning to get it. This is why I walk. Not out of some sense of penance, but because I know the trees in my neighborhood, and love to trace the folds of the hills with my feet. I know 14th Avenue was once a creekbed, and that I would have had to know where the bridge was to cross it. Now it is a river of cars, so in some ways it is the same, from the perspective of a pedestrian.
I know it is getting harder for the Earth itself to breathe. Is it any wonder that we find ourselves in a crisis that is carried on the breath, that requires us to wear a piece of cloth that makes us constantly aware of our own breathing, a daily practice that we undertake for the sake of others, not just for ourselves? This is a portion of what the Earth feels as we change the balance of the thin shell of gases that maintain the lives of the web of life that lives on its surface. The short sharp agonies of those among us who are actively prevented from drawing breath are alarm bells as well as obscenities.
To find that the Earth has a pulse, akin to our own heartbeats, is no surprise. I've felt it in deep meditation, seen and heard it it in living color as psilocybin coursed within me. Rocking in a rowboat I have floated in the Cauldron of my local lagoon and known a pale echo of the nascent Taliesin.
We are the caterpillar dissolving in the chrysalis of tomorrow. Our wings are emerging from that potion we are becoming. Soon we will be called to our next evolution on the wheel of consciousness. We are a specialized sense organ of the planet, a possible crown, but never a ruler.
I finally think we're beginning to get it. This is why I walk. Not out of some sense of penance, but because I know the trees in my neighborhood, and love to trace the folds of the hills with my feet. I know 14th Avenue was once a creekbed, and that I would have had to know where the bridge was to cross it. Now it is a river of cars, so in some ways it is the same, from the perspective of a pedestrian.
I know it is getting harder for the Earth itself to breathe. Is it any wonder that we find ourselves in a crisis that is carried on the breath, that requires us to wear a piece of cloth that makes us constantly aware of our own breathing, a daily practice that we undertake for the sake of others, not just for ourselves? This is a portion of what the Earth feels as we change the balance of the thin shell of gases that maintain the lives of the web of life that lives on its surface. The short sharp agonies of those among us who are actively prevented from drawing breath are alarm bells as well as obscenities.
To find that the Earth has a pulse, akin to our own heartbeats, is no surprise. I've felt it in deep meditation, seen and heard it it in living color as psilocybin coursed within me. Rocking in a rowboat I have floated in the Cauldron of my local lagoon and known a pale echo of the nascent Taliesin.
We are the caterpillar dissolving in the chrysalis of tomorrow. Our wings are emerging from that potion we are becoming. Soon we will be called to our next evolution on the wheel of consciousness. We are a specialized sense organ of the planet, a possible crown, but never a ruler.
