For my first mindful meditation exercise I was asked to reflect on what the Earth meant to me – how it nurtured me. It was delightful and I churned out the usual clichés of firm foundations, food, water, oxygen, cycles of life and death etc. etc.
But it’s not true – that’s how I want it to be, not how it is! What does it really feel like – standing here, on the earth, at this time in my life – possibly how it’s been for all of my life? In reality, it feels like I’m standing on the edge of a volcano – as per Torville & Dean’s Bolero dance, or at the end of a road, like that at Aldbrough, the one that just ends in a warning sign as it steadily falls, yard by yard, metre by metre, year by year, into the ocean – ripped from the very foundations of rock and chalk and sedimentary mud. At any moment, I feel as if I might tumble over the edge of that broken road into the loving arms and relative freedom of the wild, wide ocean, or plummet into the burning purity of the volcano – no lover to keep me company though – no lovers pact there; or worse that gravity will fail and I will drift off into the void, no longer connected to this earth at all – I will just float off drifting, hopefully peacefully, in space forever – a pathetic and eternal monument to a broken heart.
And isn’t that what I yearn for anyway – as Stardancer – to soar off into the vast dark emptiness, and dance amongst the stars.
How can I be connected and nurtured if all I ever want is to vanish into my fantasy world – one so much nicer than this one, where I’m loved and protected and strong and necessary. Instead I’m slowly and inexorably dissolving into invisibility and nothingness.
Despite my love of gardening and environmental issues; despite regular grounding exercises; my use of haematite crystals and aromatherapy oils; my Qabala tree meditations; my Happiness group (where I seem able to help everyone but myself) … my connection with earth is tenuous and becoming more so as each day passes. Each empty day … when I wake wondering if today is the day everything changes; it never does, of course.
So piece by piece, thread by thread, I disconnect those links with earth, preferring my inner world of subconscious and conscious dreams. Will I really disappear, will one day, someone come to visit and find nothing left of me except an empty pile of clothes on the floor or a rumpled heap of bed linen, whilst I swan off to … well … actually … that’s private. Anyway, let me say – wherever it is, I welcome it, it cannot come too soon; but, hell, even this doesn’t materialise – I’m even invisible to my dreams.
I’m not depressed – please don’t get me wrong … just lost, and invisible, and disconnected … yet with so much love in my heart for this beautiful Earth, and so much more love to give elsewhere to whoever, whatever, whenever … here, or in desperation, elsewhere. No not depressed, just a tiny bit mad, I think. Now I’m justifying the unjustifiable and unnecessary – and that’s self pity. Not a good look!