Can you feel it? Does it keep you awake at night like me? This Solstice, this year-end, this Mercury retrograde, this call to notice, this cry from our Earth and all her children, does it keep you laying there or waken you in the wee hours with the feeling of precipice, of now-it must be now.
I feel it. I hear it. Combustion engines of every shape, size, and use have caused us to tune out. We had to so as to not be bothered with a car driving by or the plane overhead. Piped water has turned us off too. Our ease has caused our waste and created a disconnect from the very source of the liquid sustenance without which we would die. Would that we occasionally had to use a water basin to wash up, and that to do that we had to crack the thin layer of ice formed through the night in the room just far enough from the pot bellied stove unfed through the hours of snuggly darkness. Then we might remember how precious our water is, how amazing is heat, and that our relation to these things is a communication worth noticing. Can you feel it? Does sleeplessness just frustrate you, or do you get up and pray? Do you meditate on relatedness, on what you promise to be grateful for going into the new year before it’s gone?
I listen at night to the silence or the wind as it stirs. The stars blink Morse code in some galactic language outside my window. The shade is always open so I don’t miss a sign. My guess is that the message is the one the crop circles sing when you stand inside them. “We are all related. Please remember.”
This Solstice I find myself looking back on all that I have taken for granted, on that which is slipping away – our innocence, our ability to hear the Earth, to see the Morse code at night, to remember where the water came from as it pours out our faucet or down our toilet.