Category: Love Letters

Dear Earth, I’m still not fixed yet, goddammit.

I’ve lived on your lap for 45 years now, darling Earth, and I have done a lot of therapy. I’ve spent decades in 12 step programmes and trainings, and I’ve done a lot of spiritual practice. I’ve consumed forests of books. I’ve written teetering stacks of journals. And I am STILL NOT FIXED. There are Read More

Dear Earth, I’m leaning in.

I’m resting my foot against a warm snoring dog underneath my desk. I’m resting my eyes on the grey stone Buddha on my windowsill, as he exudes his usual tranquillity. I’m resting my tired heart on your battered breast, darling Earth, as you absorb whatever we hurl at you. After I rest a while, I Read More

Dear Earth, I believe in miracles.

Oh Earth, we are suffering. We are seeing how it is to run out of food and to be afraid of going out. We shiver as death blows in at our perimeters. We are tasting our powerlessness. When this is over, what will we do? Will we dive back into consumption, compulsion, control? Will we Read More

Dear Earth, it’s impossible.

All year I have been avoiding plastic in the supermarkets. Last week I chose the mushrooms sweating in their clingfilmed plastic coffin, because I was afraid. I was afraid of catching the coughing virus. Meanwhile, on a Pacific island, albatross chicks are being fed lighters, bottle tops, and biros by their mothers. This cargo fills Read More

Dear Earth, this is making me happy:

This rectangle of land in front of our flat, generously dressed in dark compost. Mushroom compost, which arrived on a lorry and the man asked me to get my own pen to sign for it as he wasn’t allowed to lend me his or I might infect him. Bunny compost, made of our three bunnies’ Read More

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. Read More

Dear Earth, I have been fretting about death.

We are in the fists of a pandemic, and this fretting has preoccupied me. I have been resisting the fact of my almost total lack of control. I have been reassuring myself with lies about my invulnerability. I have been checking for fresh news every ten minutes and prodding at the fear like a bad Read More

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 Read More

Dear Earth, today I was a hot mess.

I prefer to share photos of me looking decent, or at least like I’ve vaguely got it together. Here’s one my friend Joe kindly took at 3am at our all-night meditation vigil. I was either asleep or trying not to freeze. Today I felt like the equivalent of this photo. I ate far too much Read More

Dear Earth, I sat up all night for you.

It was cold. I arrived at midday and rain bucketed down on us, soaking my coat and the cushion I was going to sit on. We rearranged the wet signs and candles, letting people know that we were holding a vigil for you, precious Earth. My friend Sarah and I joyfully chanted for you as Read More

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