Dear Earth, here’s the secret to everything.

Sometimes I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

Sometimes I despair at the size of your wound and the insufficiency of the bandages and balm, dear Earth. I see myself as a speck of dust in an ocean.

Sometimes I want to shove other people off your lap and into oxygen-less space, dear Earth, when spiteful, violent or ignorant parts of them trigger me into fury or overwhelm.

Sometimes I want to give up on you, Earth, and enjoy myself instead – less world-on-my-shoulders worrying, less weighty responsibility, less care. More detective films, more tourism, more chocolate cake, more money, more stuff.

What can I do? What is the secret to everything?

I can relax my frightened heart, and let a little more love through.

I can love my anguished question, as none of us really know what we’re doing or what effects we’ll have. I can let love cover your wound like gauze, darling Earth, because love is always bigger than darkness. I can forgive the parts of me that struggle to love some parts of other people, and let you love them instead. I can love the impulse to seek pleasure, and the protective parts that try to avoid pain and overwhelm, and make space for all of them. Responsibility AND chocolate cake.

I can let your love trickle into me, I can let the stars and the squirrels show me the way, I can crumple softly in recognition before the dark spiky knots in others, I can bathe all my soreness in light.

I can lean into your lap, dear Earth, as your lap is soft and wide.

We can lean into your lap, dear Earth, as your lap is soft and wide.

Love, Satya <3