Dear Earth, what do you expect from me?

You don’t expect the beans outside my window to shoot their winding, dividing tendrils like Jack’s beanstalk across the vegetable patch, producing pomegranates, artichokes, bouquets of exotic flowers. You would be happy if they slowly crawl up their bamboo poles and make beautiful runner beans.

You don’t expect this little mouse to be peacemaker between our dog and cat, or to learn how to operate a remote controlled car, or to give an impassioned speech to the United Nations about pesticides. You would be happy if she skitters around the vegetable patch, enjoying her bird-seed breakfast, leaving small gifts of compost behind her.

You don’t expect whales to learn to jive. It would make you smile if they did, but it isn’t necessary.

You don’t expect me to save you. You would be happy if today I make bread, fetch hay for the bunnies from the supermarket, see my therapy clients, and write you this love letter.

You know that I’m weary, and you don’t need me to burst into action like fireworks today.

You know that I’ve carried grief for the world this week, and it would make you happy if I sat and watched the silver birch waving in the breeze for a little while.

You never expect more of me than I can manage. It’s me that does that. Today I will see the world through your tender gaze, darling Earth, including the mirror.

With much love & gratitude,
Satya <3

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Photo by Monika Grabkowska on Unsplash