Sunday, January 13, 2008
When my bones feel brittle and my body is empty, and weary; when my patience is long drawn out and each breath is a fight against tears; when I wonder how we will survive our own selves, it is then that I abandon concrete and steel and take to the field, the wood and the rocky shore.
I lay my head down on the yielding soil, looking sideways at the closeness of the earth just an eyelash away. The damp musk of fertility speaks on an elemental level of life that the bird's song overhead confirms. I spread my hands through the grass and the dry fallen leaves, feeling the slow murmuring heartbeat Gaia - of the mother who gave us life and will accept us back when our travels are over. We have such a brief space of time! and an eternity.
As the throb and dance of the earth sings it's way back into my blood, I am refreshed and can recall the easy steps of the circle dance. Round and round it all revolves, worries fall away like the shedding of a skin that had become old and restricting. My heart is soft again and my eyes are bright. I am young, forever, clear. Unshed tears fall, not of pain anymore, but gratitude. The nurturing love of this divine earth - and of the unseen universe all around us - has made me new.