The Earth Speaks in Many Tongues

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When my brother died, suddenly, in December of 2013, one of my writing groups wrote to comfort me--not as themselves, but in the voices of the landscapes that I love and cherish. The Earth's voice, flowing through my beloved clients' words, began the healing process. Just as I had spent years trying to honor these landscapes in my book––to share their voices in some small way––so these landscapes were also there for me in my hour of need.

Here are some of the words that landed so deeply.

From the Deserts: Your name is in the wind that rushes up desert canyon walls and down valleys blushing green in spring and gold in fall. We thank you, we honor you, we bless you, we hold you. After all, you help dream us into being.

From the Forests: Redwoods of old nod as you pass. Falcons churn the air for your delight. Ferns fan the path as you wander. Mushrooms sprout so you will touch them. Foxes hope for a glimpse of you.

You who loves the Wildness of Nature Can see She interweaves beginnings and endings. Thus at every moment All is not lost nor is everything alright. From the Oceans and Rivers: The sunset colors of orange volcano fire in the southwest sky were met by the silvery luminosity of Grandmother Moon’s rising fullness, a lover’s embrace for all to cherish.

As the colors merged into oneness: the you, the we, the whole was healed.

From the Mountains: My mountainous trails and pathways await you, where your feet, your lungs, your soul, can find relief, where fallen pinecones, like a priestess’s runes, spell out answers to some of the questions you may have.

I felt comforted, held, part of something vast and stirring. My grief, somehow less acute, because it was integral to the whole.

And I wonder how the Earth speaks to you. And what, in those deep moments of listening, you hear?