Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

The stubborn folk spirit.

December 26, 2016


Sometimes I want to sink to my knees because I cannot shoulder the weight of longing for one more step. You know? You know. So I do. Sink to my knees, I mean. I figure if my body is crying out that demandingly, then it's for a good reason. The good reason most times? I've let my brain steal the key to the mental projection booth and, sadistic bastard that he is, he's begun those propaganda-style newsreels playing. 


You know the ones: this is your future! Debt! Regret! Useless degrees! A Mussolini-esque America! You will die alone! You will work a job that's killing you forever! (Worse than dying alone, quite frankly). But my god, petals. This would pull anyone to their knees.


We've all got a reel like this somewhere, don't we?


Anyway. So the point is this: this is self-manufactured propaganda, and we all know the point of that quote-unquote information service--to instill fear and to control. I don't know why our brains turn on us, but they do. I like to think it's a big test for our benefit, but who knows? The point is--this isn't real. It's not real. It's fear and it's tempting, but it's not your reality right now. 


Your reality may not be what you hope for, and sisters and brothers, I'm with you. But I do have plants in my window, local eggs and blueberries in my fridge, a whole pound of sweet local butter, and a cloth bag of organic flour. I have maple syrup, I have a stove, and I have electricity. I have a pie plate I bought with great ceremony years ago that still makes me giddy with joy. 


So I can do this. I can put away the film strips, toss them in the burning pile, and occupy my brain with something good and simple, beautiful and old. I can do this from memory, from instinct, and I can do it with heart. 


The heart is the key--truth always sits quietly, waiting, behind the heart. 







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This Quiet Earth