Dear Earth, I am boring.

I am 45 years old. For decades, I have written about how we can accept ourselves. For decades, I have lost myself in computers and overwork. For decades, I have liked the same things – cats, words, chocolate – and disliked the same things – fairground rides, cleaning, secrets.

Sometimes I yearn to be a phoenix, and to crash through all that old wood.

And, old wood is precious. It holds everything up and, as it gently rots, it provides the sustenance for new life.

This lifetime, I get to be a Satya tree. I don’t get to be a George tree or a Polly tree. As much as I sometimes envy other trees, I don’t think I’d want to be them anyway. I’d miss these creaky old branches. I’m just about getting to know what this one needs, and what it’s capable of. I’m just beginning to get to know cats and words and I definitely haven’t eaten enough chocolate yet.

I’m deeply in love with this song at the moment. I loved Mark E. Smith. He was an irascible alcoholic, full of intelligence, spite and genius. I don’t love him despite these qualities, but with them. I think it’s what makes his music so brilliant. It isn’t always pretty. It’s real.

I’m at peace with being boring. I get to be this particular tree for, if I’m lucky, a few more decades. And, of course, miracles have happened right here. I am the same old tree, and I have been transformed beyond recognition after a lifetime of weather and grace.

Dear Earth, thank you for keeping me watered and fed and for growing me. Thank you for my fellows, for all the other animals, and for your green magnificence. I’ll do my best to produce the fruit I was born to produce. I’ll do my best to enjoy it all. These are the greatest times of my life.

With much love, Satya <3

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