I live in a modern sub-division at the edge of a small town. A ten-minute walk takes me to a field surrounded by oak trees, blackberries, oat grass. Neighbors see foxes at dusk, a bobcat, and occasionally a mountain lion.
In the heat of one afternoon, the day before our first Zoom gathering, I had a sudden impulse to speak to the land, as if it could hear.
We are gathering tomorrow, women from Canada, Germany, Australia, and across the U.S. We want to help the Earth. We don’t quite know how, but we are here, for your sake, our hearts, our minds.
I looked up to see, just a few yards in front of me, a buck. He was staring at me, motionless, and I knew, in that moment, that my words had been heard.
The Zoom gathering took place the following day. Women shared, about the Earth, about pandemic isolation, about their lives. One woman shared about her deep connection to a tree outside her window, and the joy it brings her with each changing season. We shared about our lives, connecting us to one another.
The gathering reminded me of a dream I had a few months ago. In the dream I watch a film about how the consciousness of humanity changed the Earth. It was beautiful and tragic. I was shown how the Earth was once alive, sparkling, but how human consciousness over the centuries, changed the Earth. It became dry and the light, nearly gone. But then I saw a hip young man. “I remember,” he says. He remembered that the Earth was sacred. I felt, at that moment, hope.
I don’t quite know how to say this, because I am just experiencing it now. But linking this awareness to the ordinary moments of the day, I am seeing how powerful the words – I remember – can be. How this deep remembering infuses our life and those around us, even through difficulties, working through grace and our sense of connectedness with the Earth.
A friend wrote:
I ask us to consider when we think of rebuilding, we consider practicing the art of listening, to all things, the wind, rain, trees, and ask them what we should do. To try to touch the inner world with a loving stroke: To hold a glass of water lovingly, with appreciation. To say hello to our brother sun. To be grateful for the elements, of which we are all a part. To see every day, what we can save. Whether ourselves, a neighbor, an animal, a flower.
Thank you, so much Anne for these nourishing and encouraging words. And the words you shared from your friend. I, too, sense the call to listen, to remember and to value every little act of caring, kindness, helping, ‘saving”. They weave life-giving threads into the tapestry of my life and I hope, Life, too! Hearing this from others strengthens and reminds me when I ‘forget’. Love to you and all in this circle.