Ah, not to be cut off,
not through the slightest partition
shut out from the law of the stars.
The inner- what is it?
if not intensified sky,
hurled through with birds and deep
with the winds of homecoming.
maybe we can’t remember how ecology calls us to be……but we can hold that anthropocentric hope in our fragile nature…….this evocative tale is told over and over….
By acknowledging links between the inner, psychological world and the perceptual terrain that surrounds us, we begin to turn inside-out, loosening the psyche from its confinement within a strictly human sphere, freeing sentience to return to the sensible world that contains us. Intelligence is no longer ours alone but is a property of the earth; we are in it, of it, immersed in its depths. And indeed each terrain, each ecology, seems to have its own particular intelligence, its unique vernacular of soil and leaf and sky. Each place its own mind, its own psyche. Each sky its own blue. ~David Abram
Tired of all who come with words, words but no language
I went to the snow-covered island.
The wild does not have words.
The unwritten pages spread themselves out in all directions.
I come across the marks of roe-deer’s hooves in the snow.
Language, but no words.