The Planet Speaks

This begins with a question:

if the planet we live on had something to tell us....how would she say it?

Spring has a voice: the sound of birdsong, the colour green that erupts from every crevice.

But what if the planet herself had something to say.

Something she wanted us to hear. 

How would she say it?

It is a large leap of imagination to imagine that the virus we are currently facing could be the planet trying to tell us something. 

What if, instead of reacting in fear, we just pause for a moment and listen:

Here are some ideas of what she might be trying to say:

Slow down.

Turn inward.

Focus on what is really important: your health, your community, your loved ones. 

Your mental well being and creativity are sacrosanct.

Reprioritize your life based on these things.

Put other people's safety ahead of your frivilous enjoyment.

Care for your vulnerable.

Protect your weak.

Your own basic needs are simple: food, water, shelter. 

Tend to those and then open yourself to the vast richness of time and space:

Let your mind free to take you to new and unknown places.

Tap into the depth of who you are and what you can do.

Imagine, if only for a moment, that the planet we live on allows our continuance because she wants us here. That she works diligently to maintain the necessary balances to support our life and the continuance of our species. 

What if she has our best interests at heart?
Always.

It's worth imagining. 

TheTenacity of Roots

The things that hold us firm.

The things that ground us.

That sustain and feed us. 

When everything else falls away.

And even when they are pulled up from the soil

They are the things we return to.

Again and again. 

The Individuality of Trees

Trees are a tribe.

A collection of individuals connected through their roots.

Living side by side through the seasons. Weathering all manner of storms.

Their legacy is air, food, shade and shelter. 

Their bark is like skin: weathered, worn, individual.

Most trees are scarred and torn. Their branches are often twisted and pulled.

They resist perfection. 

And yet, each one is perfect. 

No two are alike.

I find myself wanting to know their stories. 

Their history. It is written in the texture of their bark, but I do not yet know the language of trees.

All of these trees co-exist quietly together in the same forest.

We have a lot to learn from trees.

connect

there is something about putting paint on canvas that pulls me way down deep into my soul
i love the imperfections best of all. they feel like home.