Dear Mother,
You are the most enduring mother of all -- the bedrock of all. You are the soil, the water, the wind in the trees, the fire erupting from within.
Without you, where would I be?
Earth, you hold me in embrace without reproach. My worries live in my head, I realize this when I press my cheek to your ground. Your energy is soft and pulsing. And I fear I will forget your embrace, calming and still, when I head back to the computer screen. I want to stay. I see my self centeredness waving again at its reflection in the mirror. I don't want to be trapped in my own reflection.
I am just sitting, lying here right now, looking at the grass that covers your ground. The world is quiet here. For now. I might just drift off, into the land of dreams.
Let me tell you this, I love you. I want you to know love can feel like abundance. But love can also feel like a clear absence, a clearing of immense space. It's not always about filling up to the top. Love can be like an empty shelf, cleared just for you. Love can be a pocket of silence. This space, it looks empty and it holds so much.
I dream of being in peace with you more often. I dream of being like this even when I am not lying here with you. When I'm frantic and hurrying, I dream of settling back into contemplative presence with you. I want to greet your blue oceans and your mountain terrains, your children - the animals, plants, all.
But I either fall behind, stay stuck in my head, or send all my senses into the vortex of my screen. Removed from you, I seek comfort and relief from you -- perhaps it is a heavy burden for you to bear, along with other things you carry.
You don't engage me in my rabbit hole of abstractions, my spiraling staircase of 'what-ifs'. You neither validate, nor affirm, nor criticize. You just hold me and then they somehow fade away, to be replaced by birds chirping and a sense of peaceful awe.
It feels like an external force, and yet I felt the shift happen from within. Have you absorbed my deepest fears and self criticisms? Have they seeped into your ground? Or did they disappear when you didn't help me feed them? I have now slipped out of the room of thoughts. I'm now in this moment with all of your children, all of your creation, with the tangible feeling of you holding me.
I feel a wave of guilt when I reflect on how we are poisoning you. Humans. I'm one of them. How do I listen for you more deeply, Mother Earth? How do I do that without relying on the speech of humans, the speech we have carved out only for our kind, our kind that now seeks to destroy the balance you set?
A language of feeling and earth based tending. I am learning and growing. You are always there, present. You are with us all, and I hope you are listening. I won't forget you. I'll remember to spend time with you. Stay well, until we converse again, in love.
By Angela Moon
