I Love Our World

Why hang with all of this? Why bother slogging through the process of grief? Why confront mortality until you wonder if you will ever feel anything but sorrow? Why bother to be so awake that reality sometimes feels like fingernails on a chalkboard?

Because doing so builds the sinews of grace and of bravery. Resiliency becomes the rubber band that bounds you through life. And when the starkness backs you into a corner, with no where to run and no where to hide, you discover you have one last option. To laugh, with joy. To love.

What can you do but snap back to the present moment, realizing this is all you really ever have? Then you let the tangy sweet blackberry play its symphony in your mouth. You marvel at the thorns that grab your pants, your skin, a passionate embrace that begs you to stop and say hello. You fill your lungs with the breath of the city and the hill, soaking with helicopters and dogs, skylines and bumblebees.

I join my daughter in the hilarity of not being able to climb up a slope, each slip eliciting more giggles. I let go of visions of jam and pie when she dumps out the bucket with an awestruck intake of breath, fingering her precious bounty of rare, juicy amethyst. I crouch down beside her and share in her discovery.

I watch butterflies alighting, drawn to her gentleness (look to the upper left). I feel the despair, the fear, the rage and the care that informs me of my love for this world. Taking a lesson from my daughter, I offer these feelings that same gentleness. The experience is so uncomfortable, so sharp and acute. Then, at some point driving home, I notice it isn’t anymore. And I fall in love with life all over again.

She dumps the blackberries all over the backseat. And laughs.


The protests are continuing, the police have stopped arresting demonstrators and are now only booking and fining. MSNBC finally covered the story. A busload of ranchers from Nebraska will be arriving soon. A family fights Transcanada against “eminent domain”…and wins. I am inspired, by the growing numbers in Washington, and I am empowered by all of YOU. Hearing your voices, your cares and concerns, fears and anger, is the best company I could ask for. Thank you for all of your comments this week, I have read them like eating manna. If you took your own solidarity picture, feel free to share a link in the comments where we can take a peek.

My friend Sara, of Forestlass, sent me this song on FB, for it’s uncanny synchronicity with the moment. I think it is exquisite and a perfect theme song for all of us up against the edge of care and rage….this is the moment.

Have a great weekend.


9 thoughts on “I Love Our World

  1. I’ve been thinking about why we worry about things like this. In all honesty, not having children has seemed like a very good idea because of the uncertain future. Maybe it’s a little dramatic of me, but I’ve also felt my mortality much more immediately than in the past. Life suddenly seems fleeting and insignificant, thus only important to the person living it– all the more reason it should be embraced and lived in the present.

    In that blog post I wrote the other day, I was afraid to say it, but I’ve been feeling the spirits of things coming through to me. Mostly it’s in the trees (though there was this one sunflower in the garden…), so while I was walking in the woods I stopped to touch their fragrant hulls and poured some of what I was feeling into them. That, of course, was love and a little desperation. What I got back was a feeling of acceptance, and for the first time in possibly ever, I said to myself, “I love.” I suddenly had so much care for everything that I just couldn’t believe it. It’s hard to express in words… I don’t think this makes me nuts, but am not what it means exactly.

    Today, I was swimming in the sea and there was a moment when I was totally alone, swimming waaay off shore while everyone else was on the beach. I laid back, and as I paddled with my flippers, said internally, “Sea, please embrace me.” Normally I’m a little nervous in the water, but today, I was totally relaxed. No fear, just feeling the varying currents of cool and warm water, and feeling my muscles labor in the surf.

    Awake and kicking is the only way to be, because part of being human means feeling the full range of emotions these crazy bodies are capable of.

    A most beautiful post.


    1. dear, dear sara. i love this comment from you, and feel such an affinity that i deeply wish we could talk in person, late into the night, over tea and chocolate.

      i am so glad that you dared to share with me about the spirits in nature coming to you, and am filled with soft joy to hear how that experience opened you heart to your own phenomenal capacity to love, to the vast source of care you have for the world. it doesn’t come as any surprise to me…reading your words and even just seeing the light in your eyes, it is obvious that you are “tapped in”. for years. i had to close my ears to the spirits of nature, especially trees, because as soon as they knew i was listening, they would begin a sorrowful chorus to be listened to, to be helped, to be saved. ultimately, it was experiences like that, that led me to ecopsychology. thankfully, these days my experience has been similar to yours…rather than admonishment or cries for help, what i most often hear is LOVE. on the “tar sands” post, veronica just posted a link to this talk by diana beresford kroeger: http://ttbook.org/book/diana-beresford-kroeger-power-trees, and she speaks of communion with them.

      at my favorite hotsprings, that i posted about a ways back, i used to have a similar experience to the one when you were in the sea. floating on my back, with arms above my head, i would just relax and let the current take me. in such a way, nature has taught me more about trust than any human relationship. love to you. xo

  2. Your posts are such beautiful poetry, and such inspiration! I wish the Florida days weren’t so full of heat, and the nights not full of mosquitoes. The only activity the babe and I have been able to find tolerable lately is swimming.

    I love those delicious berry pictures :D.

  3. “The experience is so uncomfortable, so sharp and acute. Then, at some point driving home, I notice it isn’t anymore. And I fall in love with life all over again.” this is it. i think we’re doing the right thing to face these feelings and let them happen. stuffing and denying is so part of our society but i like this way better. fern is such a cutie, i love your description of her gentleness… what a beautiful day!

  4. Ach You are a poet too!!! Words may not describe your energy in this post. I feel so completely in connection with what you are saying. It always comes back to now, to here, to the heart of the matter and all the unanswerable questions blow to the wind and allow us back our grace of simply being and we can suddenly chuckle about it. I love what you do!!!!!!!! and I am so in some sense of almost relief in a way, that YES, this is real, and we can talk about reality this way. ” Beauty is reality seen trough the eyes of truth”, Oh and Fern, what a beauty she is too. I can see the blackberries falling about the car and her laughter too. Just lovely! xx

    1. GRACE is the word i thought of when i first visited your blog. the shortest and straightest path to being real happens when we drop into our heart and drop the story. i know very little about your process, but did read that you were widowed…it is apparent to me that the way in which you shine can only come from someone who has sat with her own stark rawness…and lived to tell the tale. 😉 thank you elizabeth…i’m so glad you’re here. xoxo

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