Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. 


October 18, 2017


I love puzzles and mysteries, myths and history, religions and ritual. I don't mind not knowing the answers intellectually, rationally, but I do mind not knowing them bodily, intuitively. In fact, I'd argue the latter is far more important, far more accurate, and carries far more information.


But when I can't get a read on something, whether external (person, phenomena, action) or internal (self--health, emotions, physical pain), it's profoundly unsettling. When the radar stops working, even briefly, it's like what tethered us to earth has been ruthlessly slashed, and here we are, floating up, with nothing to grab onto and no way to reinstate gravity. 


And some of us (ahem) are afraid of heights.


I don't have an answer, but I once read that our intuitive selves are located along our spines, broadcasting out from nape to sacrum, which makes sense--this is the intersection of every nerve in the back body. They called it a radar dish.


I like to think of it as where we house our wings. 






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This Quiet Earth