The Old Ghosts

Here, in this world made of air and sunlight and earth beneath my feet I’m thinking about whales. About how their songs can travel over vast distances beneath miles of water. I’m thinking about how the light looks from the bottom of the pool, about what it feels like to come up for a great gasp of air after swimming underneath.

I’m thinking about the turtle that moved into our tiny backyard pond, a red-eared slider, and how he’s made friends with the Koi fish that live there eating tiny bits of things growing and living in the water. 

I’m thinking about the yard outside my door that has no garden, but will have one shortly. I’m thinking about the strawberry plants I need to put in and the way I’ll peel up the sod to make the growing beds, loosen it with my shovel and fork and then shake the soil off the rootlets of the grass clumps. I’m thinking about how the earth will fall in clumps onto the ground. 

I’m thinking about how two nights ago I placed my mother’s ashes into the wooden urn my partner purchased for me for that purpose, because I couldn’t think about it and she was still living in the box she came back to us in after being sent to the crematorium. 

I’m thinking about how we lit a candle and transferred the ashes, how a little puff of dust went up at the end. I’m thinking about how I automatically opened the door, to let any errant spirits escape if they so wished. 

I’m thinking about how all I wanted to do was stay in bed with my head under the covers yesterday and not come out. I’m thinking about how I slept for a long time and woke up this morning and made coffee like it was any other day of my life. I’m thinking about the herb order I will place today so I can make plant medicines, and about how this coffee I stocked up on turned out to be disgusting, which is making me laugh.

I’m thinking how the civilization we have been living in is very broken. I’m thinking about how potentially life will never be the same after this. I’m thinking about how maybe this gives us a chance to mend some of the broken parts. I’m thinking about walking outside in the sunshine today, and how the ancient things continue their slow turnings uninterrupted and how the cycles of life never stop.

I’m thinking that to anyone reading this I hope you are safe and well. That you have people and pets you love around you and a wild space to connect to, even if it’s a balcony where you can feel the light on your face and look at the stars.

I’m thinking this is a time of great change. I’m thinking it’s okay if sometimes you are sad and you cry, or that you feel angry. Or that sometimes you feel buoyantly happy and joyful that you get to stay home.

I’m thinking that it’s spring here in the northern hemisphere, and the buds are popping out all over the trees and the kids are watching a show about dinosaurs, and that I am equal parts hopeful and scared. 

I’m thinking we can learn from the whales and the red-eared slider. That very many creatures and people have already been experiencing the collapse of their worlds due to climate change and human error. I’m thinking how our wild brothers and sisters keep going. How they adapt and change and live through times of great distress and also times of great ease. 

I’m thinking about the Italian people singing on their balconies to reach one another the same way the whales sing to each other deep under the sea. I’m thinking we’re not alone, even if we are in isolation. I’m thinking we’re all part of something much more grand and beautiful than most of us have had the chance to experience in our lifetimes. 

I’m thinking in the end we’ll be okay. I’m thinking that the world has shaped and reshaped herself a billion times in a billion ways and will continue to do so as long as she is able. Already, the rivers run clearer and the skies are cleaner. Already, wild life is roaming through cities and areas it has been kept out of for so long. Like ghosts in the heart of the machine.

We are a planet and a people born of adaptation. 

May you and the ones you love come through this time healthy and well and together. And may we use this moment to break free from the civilization that has had a chokehold on all of our lives.

Here, in this world made of air and sunlight and earth beneath my feet I am thinking just how truly lucky we are to be alive. How each day is a gift and how exceptional my time here on this planet has been. And how thankful I am for every moment more that I might get. 

We don’t have to pretend this is anything other than what it is. A collapse. An ending of one thing and an opening of space for the next. 

May we all open our doors and windows and let the old ghosts run free.

Thank you for listening,

Love,

Natasha