When you take a delicious apple in your hand. You feel its weight in your palm, how its texture meets your skin and you allow your eyes to be touched by the fresh bursts of red and bright yellow. Slowly, you lead it towards your mouth, but before your teeth can sink into its crispy content, you take a deep, deep breath, noticing how teasing and surprisingly rich an ordinary apple can smell. And then, before you even can consider how nothing really is ordinary and in what only lasts for a split second, a sound breaks the silence, a crunching, quite familiar sound, yet this time it feels like the first time because you pay attention, because you and the sound and the apple transcend into something bigger than the sum of you and that is excactly when the first drops of juice hit your tounge. You taste the apple. It is the first time, it is the only time, it is a unique moment in time that you have been faithfully waiting for since the very moment you came to this earth and you taste the apple like you have never, ever tasted an apple before. Everything, everything has led you up to this apple, this bite, this essence of life running down your neck, and as your jaws fall into their sacred, rhythmical work, you let yourself go, you set your mind free, you melt into a dewy, delicious trust in your body, with your body, for your body, for you know that your body knows all there really is to know and so, now there is peace. Peace. Apples. And your delicious, knowing body.
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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