Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 

From away.

October 9, 2017


We have seen, again and again, war after war--whether national, international or a feud between landowners, neighbors, and property lines--ownership and his big brother, nationalism, can be a dangerous narcotic. The whole we-were-here-first argument doesn't wash. The plants roll their eyes, the animals gnash their teeth, and the insects decide then and there on a new plague, a new plot to bring down whatever divine-right-come-lately has landed. 


But I've got nothing against home, and I've got nothing against safe-keeping that home. But I do have something against violence. I do have something against 'divine right.' I do have something against selfishness, against greed, against excess. Generosity, welcome, trust before suspicion, and an ability to **share** what one has--this is the fine print that comes along with ownership. 


You see, you hold resources that are far, far older than you. These resources house food, medicine, wildlife, birdsong, soil, water, hills that catch sunlight and valleys collecting moonlight. You can't own these. You can't hoard these any more than you can pull a melody out of the air, denying any other ears its grace, its wonder. 


We are all from away. 






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This Quiet Earth