It is so easy to think of our planet as being ‘out there’, as if we don’t belong and we can only experience it when outside with the trees and birds and bees.  However wonderful that is, we are an inherent part of our planet too and we take it wherever we go.

Dust

I am inside today, facing the furniture, noticing the dust.  Dust, the thin, clinging stuff that covers our fancies and dreams.  We only see it as something to be gone, hiding and dirtying our substance and treasure, quietly measuring their days. 

What is the value of dust?  I can draw in it with my finger, print my name, leave a smiley face, connect to earth.  I can polish it away, put love and work into my ornaments and surfaces that otherwise would be unremembered.  I can blow it to haze the air, a breath of spirit to clean my crystals, to create new patterns as it falls back for another time.  I can adjust my seeing so I see it with a smile not a frown, a lens to see the world by. 

I can own it, for it is mostly the cells of my skin I have finished with, a testament to my growth and being.  I can know it for it is of earth and I am of earth.  It is a daily deposit of the substance of this universe that reminds me that I am alive, I am here, I am spirit made flesh, I can worship with hands and knees, I can tread time, I can create and choose and move and love and listen.  This gift of earth, of physicality, of cause and effect and learning, of beauty and spoiling, of history and remembering, of wanting and having, of complex dynamic relationship with each person and plant and being, is my arena.