(Photo: Cypress grove, Lake Martin Preserve, Louisiana)
(Previously published on Jan. 28, 2016)
So today I scoop heart back into body. Plug into outlet of spine. Hit the on switch. Take a deep breath… boundaries, M. Find your edges, M. This is my self talk today.
I thought of this as I peeled open the blinds to the morning. And looked through moldy glass into the southern sun. Everything here molds eventually, if it sits still enough, and enters into the dreaming of this place and her peoples, it becomes the living green eventually.
It’s a place of naturally diffuse and everchanging edges. Of fertility. Of the slow creep of decay. This is the perfect place for lessons of “create, or become undone”.
Think about it.
This is why boundaries. The effort to individuate and persue is a must. It keeps the energy moving, so the layers of alluvial soil don’t bring you into and under. So that you are on top, planting things, and not becoming the food for what is growing instead.
This part of the South is not like the hard edges of the red rocks of Colorado, or the crisp, snow-knifed edges of mountainsides in winter. Not like the Indiana flat topped rows of perfected soy and corn fields, with geometric layout. Not like the dried rocks of the California San Joaquin valley, stark in their color, against a blazingly bright clear sky. So bright you can close your eyes and still see the image on the eye lids, burned in there.
I have lived these places. I know.
Those places effect people differently. All landscapes do.
Here, it’s all light bouncing off water, or water murky and teeming with life unseen, or the inhale and exhale of water rising and falling, or the way the humidity itself is like living in a diffuse cloud, and we are walking, driving, and living as under water. This is why community. In a place teeming with life and interconnected living of insects, fish, fowl, and fourleggeds, We humans have a culture of togetherness and interdependence as well. We are all a part of the ecological gumbo.
Hello to the edge of my aura, hello to the skin on my body, hello to the boundaries and containers and bumper car rubber edges of things. Hello to my creative projects, hello to my thriving and growing, hello to me finding my grounding, my foundation, my place from which to stand and light up a space. Hello to the life teeming around me. I see you. I take my place in the web.
Hello hello hello.
Don’t dissolve. Don’t become the soil.
Root and grow. Up. Up!
May all who land on their feet know their walk forward.