The email invitation to go to Egypt for the solar eclipse in August 1999 hit me in the belly like a lightning bolt. It was one of those rare times in my life when I just knew I had to drop everything and, come hell or high water, follow that thread that pulled me forward from the future. I had to trust that I would be supported to go there.
Traveling to sacred places and becoming familiar with earth energies and how subtle energies move through the landscape, is one way of bringing back the long-forgotten ways that humanity has worked with and supported the earth in sustainable, respectful ways. Indigenous cultures have never lost this knowledge but the Western mind is sorely in need of a re-connection with the spirit of Gaia. Read Article here
It was her meditation and her soul’s calling card. She never had the opportunity for formal piano lessons but maybe my grandparents realized she never needed them, because by the age of 3, my mother sat at the piano and played any song she heard.
It was a crisp sunny autumn day, a bit breezy for sitting outside perhaps but the storied Lawn of the Grounds was the perfect place for the event. It started with a procession of dignitaries from all the top universities, Harvard, Oxford, and 100 others marching two by two in their full regalia of gowns of black red, blue and crimson.. hoods with silk and velvet sashes indicating their achievements, all PhD’s in every imaginable academic discipline.
The second morning on the island I woke before anyone else was up. I put on my bathing suit and headed out the door to the smell of sea salt air blowing across the canal. A yellowbird darted among the hibiscus in the front of the house. The road to Rum Point was quiet and in five minutes I was at the beach.
The exotic tropical birds are what you see first. A large red macaw taking flight from the top of her head, blue tipped wings curled upwards towards the light. A resplendent quetzal with long tail, a green toucan with red tipped large beak, a green brilliant hummingbird, a kingfisher all poised to fly into the green dappled forest behind her.
She first inspired me 25 years ago when I walked into Banyan Books in Vancouver and walked out with her slim volume Thinking Like a Mountain. For so many years, that gem of deep ecology writings inspired my personal journey with the earth…
This essay explores the ways that the identity of an individual is rooted, or can be rooted in the place of their birth and childhood, and that even after they have moved from this place, it still informs their being in myriad ways.