Dear Earth, everything is changing.

I look at the blank page for a long time.

What can I say? What can I possibly say? That will even begin to make sense of it all? That will provide some comfort?

The boiler in the room next to me is thrumming. It is heating this whole house – keeping us warm like a fleecy jacket with deep pockets and a hood.

Outside a single blackbird is doodling on the silence with his liquid notes. They slide up and down, slippery, exact, pure.

Start where you are. What can you hear? What is supporting your body? What can your eyes rest on?

Everything is changing. And, you are holding me now, sweet Earth. You are feeding me. You are filling my lungs with plant-breath. You are offering me posies of pale yellow cowslips, and a pond brimming with squirming tadpoles just out of their squishy spawn.

On the hills yesterday I met a deaf man and his huge black dog Kuma, which means bear in Japanese. Little Aiko and him sniffed each other’s smells as we tried to understand each other. We connected over trivialities for a few minutes, and warmth grew between us. We parted ways. I cupped the little glow close.

Can you feel the beginnings of this warmth? It comes whenever we remember that everything is changing, and that everything is sacred. Huge happy dogs, delicate cowslips, our old cat’s bony chest as it heaves.

There will be fear. There will be grief. If it is here right now, invite it in. Offer it a cup of tea. Show it the ground underneath you. Brush its cheek, softly, softly, as you would an over-tired child. Allow your breath to be lullabies.

Dear Earth, everything is changing. What will help? This. Tell me what you see, and let it love you.

Love, Satya <3