The Earth is Alive

I feel so soft this morning. I am connected to myself and the whole in such a sweet, surrendered way. 

I’ve been noticing lately how hard my edges get when I am entrenched in the trappings of the mind. When I am consumed with my body or with money or with whatever other distraction the ego tells me is truth. But when I pull myself away and I feel into the soft spaces of myself and the earth, I realize how false it all is. 

I meditated on my connection with the earth this morning. I felt her beneath my feet, and I slipped into her steady warmth. I felt her core emanating vibrance and her waters fueling life. I felt a part of something bigger, and I released into it with relief.

Being on the beach has taught me so much about our impact on the earth. I walk a beach littered with glass, and I feel such deep pain for our ignorance. Sometimes it feels so daunting to believe in real, sweeping change.

As we’ve moved from place to place, I’m realizing how huge this world is. I used to think it was so small, this tiny part of a great vast Universe. And it is. But it’s also this giant sphere of microscopic little beings all teeming with ideas and opinions and desires scattered across a massive rock. 

Each city we travel is stuffed with these people, and in each place we go they share a common bond of locale that vibrates from them and through them. There is an energy that pulses from each place. 

I have had nudgings in meditation that we are all cells a part of one large body, and each time I move into a new city that hypothesis is proved truer and truer. I see the city as a tissue, an organ, some small system of the earth body co-creating simply by this agreement to cohabit one corner of her flesh.

We really do emit a larger energy as a collective, and it is shown to me in massive clouds of color hovering above the earth. Each place I visit I feel it dancing on my own skin. Sometimes it soothes and comforts me. Sometimes it lulls me into new ways of being and seeing. Sometimes it chokes and stifles me. 

I see how the colors clash at their borders like huge weather systems creating friction and bolts of energy. Some places commingle easier with others, but mostly there is this resistance to blending the colors. We’ve forgotten we’re a system. We’ve forgotten that we serve the same mother. 

Sometimes I feel at such a loss with what to do about it. I see these grand visions when I am in the quiet of the blackness, and the truth feels greater than even my own name. A part of me opens and expands, and for those few moments my whole body quakes with the authenticity of it. I feel impressed upon to shout what I’ve learned, to shake people until they understand, to weep until my eyes will cry no more. 

But then I open my eyes. And I look around. And I see all the things that remind me of my life. And my realizations don’t seem so grand. They seem obvious and small. They feel like lost sentences on a crumpled page, ready to be kicked out with the garbage. 

How to make them big again?

I am breathing space into this today. It seems the answer is in the softening. The returning to the sound of the tide in my ears. The returning to the feeling of each grain of sand under my feet. The returning to the coolness of the morning breeze on my skin.

If we really are one cell in one massive organism, then all we can do is embody our best truth in the work we’re each doing. We create hospitable little openings in our walls for others to attach to. We keep busy making healthy little love proteins that we send out into the earthly bloodstream with trust and hope. We nurture within what we want to see outside of us. 

We thrive.