Wars…genocide…imperialistic hubris…deportations…assassinations…
So much intentional cruelty in the world these days. Many days it feels as if we humans have dug ourselves into a deep, dark hole. I look out my window and the sky is grey. The temperature is about 10 degrees cooler than average for the end of June. Compare that to the 20 degrees above normal we had the beginning of May. We’re riding a climatic rollercoaster as well as a political one.
I spend a lot of time dreaming, both night and day. Today I had a revelation. Years ago I visited Olympic National Park here in Washington state and gazed upon a Douglas Fir tree estimated to be 1000 years old. I imagined myself being there again…experiencing the essence of that tree. In comparison, I realized I have just been born.
Like a child in the womb, I have felt the darkness before I ever experienced the light. I heard sounds, softly muffled by my mother’s body. Her heartbeat familiar, steady and reassuring. Her voice and breathing a whisper; her blood coursing through my own tiny body.
Then I felt my world contracting, slowly pushing me outward, towards the light. I don’t know if I cried as I exited all I had ever known, into a seemingly boundless unknown. But I imagine that I was quickly swaddled and placed in my mother’s arms. I heard her voice again, louder than before; I still heard her heartbeat.
I was home. I am always home. Everything expands, including the universe as a whole. Life recycles.
Today I struggle to get back to that birthplace. The earth reminds me. My garden reminds me. Nothing is ever lost or left completely behind. The garden and the seasons remind me that everything dies but is reborn into another form. Seeds scattered by the wind, far from the mother plant, know what to do, know who to be.
I picture myself today, born anew. Bare feet touching the earth. I hear her voice, her heartbeat. I eat from my garden’s bounty and feel her blood in my veins. I feel her caress me in the wind.
I find courage to venture forth knowing that I can add life to life. Coming out of the darkness, I can witness and embrace the dawn. I can nourish the earth that nourishes me. I can hope, and believe.