Rooted & Nourished

The only way to let go or surrender is by being shown how.

Three nights in a row, I was woken by the moon. On the third night, I stood naked in the soft rain at 2 a.m. Seeing only shadows. While we sleep, I wonder how much is pouring into us? The amount of water that comes to us unnoticed. 

As I watch moonlight and cottonwoods speak over a midnight drizzle, I thank the blue belly of light for knocking on my windowpane. 

In the morning, I walked through an old burn site of 5,000 hectares. My feet sank into ash and rust-colored soil.Fingerprints coated in charcoal caught dust. My hands were covered in ancient rings. Dark, burned ground reminded me that I stood among my ancestors. Caverns where their roots once anchored to the earth, black barked. Small and large bones were littered everywhere. Spines, young and old, spooned together. Ashen white jaw bones set in beds of blooming Golden Arrowleaf. Among the dead trees, there are morel mushrooms hidden in the shadows. Food and death are in the same palm.

I wanted to cry but I couldn't. From every bone sprang joy and beauty. New life was a given to everything. I watched the green throat of life take back the dead and spit her out in gold. Milling, granulating, inch by inch. 

At times, I feel greedy, dry, rootless, asleep, helpless, hopeless and too restless to be loved as the earth loves me. I spin alone. Last night, in the middle of black ink, water, whispers, and tree talk, I felt roots burst through thin skin. In the darkest of nights, earth caught hold of me, refusing to let go. Teaching me of home.