Category: Love Letters

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

Dear Earth, life is closer than death.

On Tuesday evening we heard a cat wailing in the corridor. By the time I reached our cat Tsuki, her soul had slipped quietly out of her body. “Mara follows every step.” This is a fragment of a Buddhist text we recite in the mornings, and it reminds us that death and destruction is always Read More

Dear Earth, eco-living is a PAIN.

Yesterday at 5pm I was sitting miserably at a very cold train station, at the end of a very long day, with two changes and an hour an a half of travelling ahead of me. If I’d driven, I’d have been home and cosy ten minutes ago, greeting my crazily happy dog. Public transport, schmublic Read More

Dear Earth, you are lush.

Your lushness is infinite, but today I want to single out this soup. The clear, happy orange of fresh carrots. The velvet richness of roasted squash. An electric hint of ginger. A splash of lemon. Salt. For years I ordered a weekly veg box from a large company. I liked that I could say what Read More

Dear Earth, you are burning & I am small.

If I returned home to a fire in my living room, I would race to the fire extinguisher. If my children were starving, I would steal to feed them. Dear Earth, you are burning. You are melting, and choking, and being poisoned. Your children are dying. Your animals are being wiped out. I am so Read More

Dear Earth, we are so vulnerable.

The Corona virus is killing our brothers and sisters. 6.7 million people in Yemen are relying on food aid. A few days ago, a twenty five year old colleague died suddenly. He had been trying to save you, dear Earth. Outside, a few flakes of wet snow are diving past the hazel catkins and the Read More

Dear Earth, help me to take pauses.

Build gaps in your life. Pauses. Proper pauses. Thom Yorke 2013 Kaspa is away and so I am in charge of the temple. Mornings consist of cleaning litter trays (and all the other places our old cat has deemed equivalent), getting the bunnies up, giving medication, searching for dog poo in the garden, and all the Read More

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