I might be sick, but I just slept more than I’ve slept in ages, and my eyes are tender for it, and it’s Earth Day, which is the first day I learned what it was to hold space–by doing–nothing.
25 years ago, I served on the committee planning the very first Earth Day Celebration in my county, but a handful of days ahead of the event, I miscarried, and so I spent it, not coordinating anything, like I did so well, but simply sitting, resting, in the middle of all the action.
I can still feel the odd surrender inside, the portal of new, uncomfortable growth, a band playing in front of me, people moving all about, me, irrelevant.
The older I get the more I respect the wisdom of the weary, the sick, the aged, the disabled.
The more I feel what happens to the Earth is happening to me.
I want to write something poignant today, but my head is too heavy so I’ll simply share my gratitude & respect for all those speaking/marching/shouting/teaching on behalf of the planet–clean, abundant water; pure air; healthy soil–upon which all life depends, and without which so many suffer.