earth

Meditation on the Comet Neowise

Climbing Mount Sugarloaf in South Deerfield, Massachusetts last night, I expected to be awed by the sight of the comet Neowise, set against the backdrop of thousands of stars.
 
Instead I felt something more mundane – an affection for the Earth, the fireflies, the crickets singing, the grass slightly cool and wet from a light, misty fog, and mountaintop trees edging the infinite ocean of space. Neowise itself has such a gentleness, with a soft, just-visible tail trailing upward so the comet appears to be falling, creating the impression of a shooting star or cottonwood tree’s fluffy seedball drifting, cascading slowly down the sky.

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Ocean of Us

for Belinda

       Wellfleet beaches twilight low tide, strung with stones like gazing stars
       you and I and the sun, seagulls setting and rising with the moon somewhere tiding rhymes around our wonder
       wandering, picking up the scattered verses of solid Earthspun rainbows daydreaming us
       the everything-children we are, exploring this allowingness at the edges of silver waves, falling awake in cold bursts within a warm heart-held nowhere
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The Soft Galaxy (Eulogy for a Chicken)

I’m still thinking of what was happening in Roadrunner’s mind the other day, standing five feet from the back door to the house, on a stoop two steps above the ground, facing the door as if wanting to come in. Every time I think of it, I feel sad – sadder than someone raised in a culture of scientific materialism blended with Catholic ideas about the specialness of humans is really supposed to feel about a chicken.

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The Mother of All Attunement (August 2016)

Walking the sandy path through the woods by Dyer’s Pond in Wellfleet, Massachusetts – with dried pine needles crackling under my bare feet, and late afternoon sun warming my bare upper body, and droplets from the sandy-bottom pond still meandering down my skin – I remembered that a body larger than my own or my mother’s had carried me like this throughout my life, and that this body had a name I could hear, a face I could touch, and an empathic resonance that could soak into the cells of my being, if I let it.

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Stillness Rises

Lately – amid the unfolding catastrophes of climate change, white supremacy, potential nuclear war and physical, emotional, psychological and institutionalized violence of many kinds – I’ve been spending hours of what free time I have lying down in a grassy field among pine cones and dry brown needles from last Fall, amid the deep and imperfectly-perfect harmonies of Highland Park, watching clouds drift, picking seeds from the open cones, soaking in sun and doing as much nothing as I possibly can.

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