There’s an old myth, about a woodland, horned god, killed by the Goddess every fall, resurrected every spring. Sometimes known as the Green Man, or Pan. How long have the new myths held, that we should fear that woodland god of the earth, of the earth of which we are made? Satan, he is called now, said to rule the earth. Is this life evil? What a cruel, controlling idea, to beat us down with. A tale many have swallowed whole, to the near ruination of the very foundation of our being. What is more evil than the will to domination, our ongoing poisoning and destruction of the biosphere necessary to our well-being and happiness?
To be of the earth is to be in relation with all life. Separating oneself is to be in delusion, subservient to some master hostile to any interest but his or her own.
This planet is in desperate need of healing. To heal oneself is to bring healing to this earth. What is it to heal, but to reestablish a relationship with the earth, which is renewing a relationship with oneself? To dirty one’s hands, with the soil of the earth that provides our nourishment, to steward what we live in now that future generations will require too, to feel the cycles that define existence, to envelope oneself in living systems, to eschew the unnatural rhythms dictated by industrial, mechanistic consciousness.
To return to the green. To reclaim our humanity, from the defilers, who demand from us the despoliation of our birthright. To recover our joy. To dance in the face of doom. To sing, that our ancestors and the gods, if there are any, might hear, and know that we rejoice in our body, in this matter beloved, that we might show the universe who we are.
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