I don’t know about you, but I entered this week with a surreal feeling. Anxiety and hope are both present in me—anxiety for the health and safety of the many, and especially those who are especially vulnerable to illness or to food and shelter insecurity in the days and months to come. Hope for what is possible when we awaken and live into our interdependence with one another and with Earth. In this spirit, I spent part of my weekend planting seeds.
The Whidbey Institute offices are quiet this week as we practice social distancing. If you drop by, you may find the office unstaffed as many of us do our work from home. Please know that the land welcomes you. There is much solace to be found on these trails.
The Peace of Wild Things
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.