Dear Earth, I’m a miracles-do-happen realist.

A few weeks ago my Buddhist teacher said that, in relation to what will happen as we come out of lock down, he’s a happy pessimist. He believes that, broadly, polluters will spring back to trashing you, shoppers will slide back into unnecessary excess, and those few white men who hold the lion’s share of the globe’s worth will cling onto it just as tightly as before.

If he’s a happy pessimist, I’ve been wondering what I am.

I know that our time is fast running out. I know that human beings are riddled with selfishness. I see it in myself. I know that we are blighted by generations of the injuries we inflict on each another when we are frightened. I carry those wounds. I know that change can require the obliteration of our entire self-constructs. I know how that feels like dying.

I am a realist. And. I have seen miracles happen.

I have seen sixteen year olds arrested for your sake, darling Earth, awake all cold night long in lock-ons. I have seen alcoholics and drug addicts find sobriety, contrition and ordinary joy after decades of dancing with death. I have found contorted, screaming places deep inside me that have transformed into laughing children under the light of love.

We are heading towards extinction. I don’t know if it’s possible to turn the ship around and, as I’ve said before, I’ll carry on doing the small things I can do either way.

I carry the possibility of miracles with me through these difficult times. Some days, like today, I listen to the soft song of rain and watch the beans spiralling up the bamboo tripods and I know that I’m already inside one.

With tenderness,
Satya <3