The return of spring, time of holy equality. The landscape is still winter-rough and wind-blown. Walk outside and feel the raw possibility.
The world is made of stories, and we need to change the narrative. Poised in the season's symmetry, ask: what does another world look like?
The anxieties hover—climate change, nuclear holocaust, environmental devastation—but let us not stress only existential apocalyptic tales. How do we stop devouring our planet and instead energize stories of plenty and repair.
From the ballast of balance, begin to notice The Commons, that entire life support system that we hold in trust for future beings. Envision a healing, parallel economy producing air, diversity, wilderness, asking only respect in return. Collect bits of wind-blown trash for a day. Gather in community, sharing the common wealth.
Remember that the root word for "religion" is "re-linking"; when we speak in the language of longing, we re-enter the mystery.
Walk in the woods, see that trees aren't isolated individuals. Each one is a Forest, Forest, Forest. I walk in the world, and I'm not even me; I am World.
Gaze through the mirror. World. World. World.
— Oak Chezar © Mother Tongue Ink 2019