....I would never hurt you

Yogis,
This morning I paused on my run to rest in my trusty tree seat. The path around me quiet as most people seemed to be still huddled in the warmth of their homes on this lazy winter Sunday. I imagined them, hands wrapped around mugs, wool socks on their feet. The sound of newspaper pages being turned.

The sky was early morning gray and the landscape more shades of brown than are imaginable. The river running next to me finally that olive green that she becomes in the dead winter cold. I turn my head to the right and see her. How had I missed her? She is lying down, her colors blended so perfectly with the tree behind her that they appear to be one. Only the white encircling her eyes which are now set on me, gives her away. She too appears to be wondering how she could possibly have not seen me. A thin strip of river separates us.

I wave hello. She considers but feels the need to stand up. To get a better look perhaps. Sense my intentions. I say good morning and tell her how beautiful she is. I ask if she is over there alone. Where is your family? As if on cue, four more deer reluctantly lift up from the brush where they were resting. I wave again, sorry to have disturbed them. I would never hurt you…….

But we do.

This week I have been feeling a deep sorrow over our treatment of the earth and her creatures. As our mother she gives us everything we need. Our food. Our clothing. Our shelter. Warmth. Water. Beauty.  I watch as we take, and take, and take, and take with no end in sight. Where is the relationship? She must be so tired.

I am reminded of when my boys were adolescents. A necessary stage of life where children begin to pull away to find their independence. A time devoted to developing a sense of me. Separation, necessary for personal growth. But as the mom it is a challenging time. Adolescents take and take and take, and yet are still always irritated with you. Mom is the supplier but should be quiet the rest of the time. At times it is emotionally draining.

I can still remember though, going alone to visit my oldest in college during his senior year. It was time for me to head home and I was parked a few blocks away. He insisted on walking me to my car. I said good-bye but he waited while I got in, made sure the car started and watched as I drove away. I had tears in my eyes. It was the first moment where I knew he was transitioning to adult. He was now giving back. A full relationship.

I listened to an interview of Francis Weller who discussed how we have become a society stuck in adolescence. Me, me, me. Our metrics of success all driven by personal accomplishment. The American dream. It struck a chord. And I don’t have to venture far from my front door to see its effects. Roads widening so we aren’t inconvenienced by traffic. Trees coming down to make way for larger homes. Insects being sprayed. The list goes on and on…..

We all say we want to change the trajectory, but until we round the bend into adulthood where the needs of another come before our own, it is only a wish. The government cannot fix this. We must do the work. Awakening to the realization that what we do to earth we are doing to ourselves.  

I would never hurt you…….

Om,
SARAH