Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

Everything animal.

June 28, 2017


I think it's a safety/camouflage/evolution thing, this need to fill up empty space with stuff--material, food, words, noise. When we're stuffed, we can't think. It's like being comatose. It's like playing dead. 


And sometimes playing dead is a pretty good survival instinct, a good exit strategy when the predator is at your heels. 


But all the time? If all the time, there's no space for breath, for invention, for art, for rhythm, for weather, for light. Without those, without that immersion into the language of the life around us, we might as well fall into the coma, unplug the machines, and let the world breathe for us. 


It might be less scary, fewer demands on your immediate person,

but it's no way to live. It's only a way to survive.







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This Quiet Earth