If there's a time for everything, when is the time to pray? Sometimes, especially in the moments after my boys have fallen asleep, I find myself absolutely overwhelmed by gravity. Overwhelmed by the world, by the human ability of making a mess of it all. The weight, the weight crushes me down on the floor, to a place where only the quiet breathing of a child keeps me from vanishing. How will his world look like? Will there be anything even close to what I call world today? I feel scared. Helpless. Blind.
Gravity, however, doesn't mind my despair. Gravity is what gravity does. And when I let it work its way through me, when the rythm of a little boy's sleepy breath joins the humming choir of nature's will, my feet meet the ground and I remember. I remember. How it feels like to be held. How it feels like to be at peace. There is no mess. Life is messy. But remember. There is no mess.
This is the time to let gravity do its sacred, beautiful work. With open eyes I see how my feet are touched by the ground. Crush me if you must. I am here to be touched.
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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