Meeting Earth for the first time,
O, what wonders she shares with our eager senses!
Her beauty is boundless, in the green of endless forests, in leaves and limbs and every breath we share.
The symbiosis of life takes in and releases in harmony; we participate but remain blind.
From aged stone to painted shores, we find vibrant color and life and sacred presence.
Infinite dimensions in the beating of a butterfly’s wing, through coursing rivers and crashing seas.
Myriad reflections in a drop of dew suspended on a single blade of grass, the colors of a rainbow arcing over us, light shimmers and life teems everywhere, beneath the sea, on the land and high above.
See it!
Breathe it in deeply!
Allow your soul to be stirred from slumber!
Open your eyes and rejoice!
Celebrate earth washing herself clean with gentle showers and scouring storms, rolling thunder and lightning igniting the sky.
The membrane of earth’s vital connections flowing through me and through all of us.
What are we truly and what have we become?
A raindrop, a singing cricket, a colorful flower or the mightiest oak? Are we clouds floating high above the grandeur, witnessing the unfolding of earth’s story, which is our own?
We are endless and one with the beauty that surrounds us, but we cannot sing as she does because our eyes are dim. Our minds are clouded and our attention diverted.
Away, away from our dear Mother who birthed us in pain and wonder.
As we entered this place, trespassing upon her domain, she stared in awe as we returned the gaze.
And she made a promise,
To always provide.
To always nurture.
To allow us to live free in her abundance and ask nothing in return.
O, that we could all meet her again for the first time and witness with new eyes the majesty of her loving embrace.
Would we so freely desecrate her holy body and pillage what she generously provides?
Or might our attention be consumed by what we have rather than what we have not?
Would our minds race so eagerly toward oblivion if we watched a sunset again for the first time?
Would we find conflict and war so easily if the azure of the sea were brand new?
Could our quests for influence and power remain if we truly observed the path of a waterfall for the first time?
If a bird’s song and a berry’s flavor and the wind’s gentle caress were new sensations, would we still seek out the distractions we cling to?
Might there yet be hope for us in new-fallen snow? A mountain’s summit?
In a single breath?
Breathe her in again.
And again.
For the first time.
Seekers Anonymous 