Gravity Holds
Every step we find ourselves in dreams-
Of the moment the snow fled from the freshly covered
Winter boughs
Towards the ground that holds us so tight
The gravity of Gaia pulls so much
Softer on each crystalline snowflake
Than she pulls upon our aging imaginations.
So trapped by Moloch as they are
Encased in screens and responsibilities.
Our minds soar like forming hail
Down through the clouds, then up again,
Then down again, and so on until
We have so much icy weight that to the ground our mind returns.
Falling and falling in
And within the winds. Towards
The withered stream, held by toxic soil.
Gravity holds me tighter than your touch
Folding and unfolding both on the level of the strings
That make the universe
The strands which weave us together
For only a stitch or two,
Before splitting apart into new patterns
And old.
I meant to post this yesterday, or the day before. But each time I thought about what to say to accompany it, adventure pulled me away. A ski at Tettegouche, where my Mother’s ashes rest. An unexpected opportunity to teach. Each bringing to a space of new discovery outside the realm of everyday gravity. I want to use this blog space to share my work regularly, predictably, in the grounds of the everyday routine, the gravity which holds us to our lives. That gravity isn’t a negative energy. It’s just that I cant let it control me while I live a space so magical as this.
That’s what this piece is about. Holding that gravity as a friend, rather than a prison guard. And letting the orbits that are our relationships to others run their course naturally. That is something I am still learning. In Love I hold and hold those with whom our orbits meet only briefly, and try to force the gravity of our lives to stay orbiting together when they would’ve naturally drifted apart. When do we hold on? When do we let go?
Gossamer Naturalist 