I find myself loving everything. It only lasts for a moment, but a moment is long enough.
Walking down a staircase, I could feel the steps beneath my feet. The rocks, the mountains. The wood, the trees. The planning, the labor, the care. The idea of a house that once grew inside a human being.
What purpose does this house serve? Does it bring people closer to eachother? Closer to nature?
I find myself loving everything. Every confused thought, every lost purpose. I love the house, its story, its people. I walk the stairs with the deepest respect. No space for critical questions. I could probably wish for a park, or even better, a wild forest. But at this short moment, I love this house as I love my own family.
I find myself loving everything. For one more moment, and then another, I love everything. Feeling the structure of life touching my body. Being moved, being the mover, being moved, becoming the movement. I am this house. I am the wood from what its made. I am its maker, I am the carpenter, the architect, the resident. I am the house, the space, the ground, the air around it. Moment by moment. We breathe together, the house and I.
Walking away, I know again what I always knew. Everything. Everything is alive.
This is a calling to slow down and listen. To take a deep breath and explore our personal connection with Mother Earth. The feminine and masculine, the beautiful and dirty, the real, the messy, the sacred. Once it was natural. Today it feels crucial.
For the next 100 Days I will write a book to the Earth. For the Earth. With the Earth. The book, and the journey, is also to you. For you. And with you. Together, we are everything.
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