It's a Practice

(written Nov. 3, 2025)

I live in a valley.
I work in a valley.
I moved from a land that is flat and next to the sea.
I am now in a place where I see mountains on the horizon.
Where a 10 minute drive can take me up into the mountains.
Great heaps of earth where your energy is so near.
I couldn’t feel you in the place of flat.
But here in your lap, I feel your arms around me, Great Mother.
On days like today, when water falls from the sky.
When the air is cold and damp, and the fingers of the trees are bare and black against the gray sky.
When rain drops obscure my vision by splattering the lenses of my glasses.
You send a breeze gently by, and the smell of pig manure wafts through the parking lot.
The farmers taking advantage of this rare bit of rain on this part of your body.
The birds chipping happily at the moisture in the air.
When it is daytime, but it is dark with clouds.
I can lean into the trees here. I can talk to the trees. Breathe into the trees. I feel them breathe back into me. I lean my forehead against their bark and talk to them. Bless them. Apologize for what we humans have done to them.

I feel isolated here. It’s lonely. Being surrounded by people who don’t see you, Mother.
They’ve been talking to sky gods for too long. They forgot who gave them life.
Is that why I was called to this place? To wake up the ones that are here that are only lightly sleeping? Is that why I’m doing this alone?

So that I can be strong enough and firm enough in my truth that I can speak it, and hold it, despite the fact that I’m the only one?

So I can be a light in the darkness for others?

Is that what she was trying to teach me?