Depth over distance.
A rusty nail through my heart. I thought it was something I could take to protect myself, to shelter and nurture my vulnerable parts. A necessary step back perhaps, an important room for taking a deep breath and regain my strength. That's not what distance is.
To take distance is to compensate.
To take distance is to make an excuse.
To take distance is to submit to fear.
I vow to come closer.
I vow to see what I cover up.
I vow to feel my own pain.
All I want,
when I one day cross over to the life we call death,
is to say I was here.
I was here.
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.
Use #FortheEarth to share and, please, add your story.