Dear Earth, I am not worthy.

Other people are fitting ventilators to those suffering in the overflowing hospitals, dear Earth. Other people are fetching medicine for their neighbours. I sit sulking in my office and wait for my daily exercise. I order myself expensive chocolates and a green hourglass. I estimate the days until I am free from this extravagant jail.

The part of me that feels worthless is here. She is very young. She was shown that she needed to work hard if she wanted attention. She came to believe that there was something very wrong with her.

It doesn’t help this part when I tell her she’s got it wrong. Rohr says, “From the beginning, receiving God’s love has never been a ‘worthiness contest’. This is very hard for almost everyone to accept.” She feels so bad, that other parts of me step in and work feverishly to cover up her feelings. They drove me to write nine books and to build a full psychotherapy practice. They pushed me to run this temple and grow a congregation. It is never enough to stop the worthlessness from leaking out.

The young part doesn’t want to hear that she’s got it wrong. She just wants to be held. She wants to hear that it makes sense that she feels worthless – anyone in her position would. She wants me to show her that I taste the flavours of her pain and loneliness.

She sees my tears, and it soothes her. Now I can look up and see how much weight we are all carrying, in these strange new times. I can see how coronavirus is holding a magnifying glass to our courage and our generosity, as well as to our selfishness, our paranoia, and our myriad fears. I can see how hard I’m working, even when it doesn’t look like it. I can see that I am enough.

The love begins to seep into me, like water into the chard and beetroot seeds I’ve just sown in the vegetable patch. Green shoots will come. For now, I’m going to wait quietly in the dark.

With tender love for you and for all, Satya <3

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Image by Mary Crandall of a mural by Zio Ziegler in downtown Las Vegas – gratitude