Letter to the Earth

Inspired by Thich Nhat Hanh's "Love Letters to the Earth"

Photo by NASA

Dear Mother Earth,

These eyes seeing you are you. Outside my window, you appear as tree, grass, ibis, mango, lizard, bougainvillea, rain, and the wind bending the leaves. The seeing is also you. All of this is born together. Without you, the eyes seeing you cease to be. What a magnificent Beauty you are.

When I see the trees, or hear the ibis, or eat the mango, or feel the wind, or smell the rain, you and I are one. Even when I do not interact with you directly, every thought, every breath, every feeling, and everything I perceive, is made of you because I am made of you. Our origins are intertwined.

The marvelous gift of aliveness pulses through your trees, through your rivers and oceans, and in your soil. In your great dance with Father Sun you grant life to endless new forms, seen in your millions of shades of green. Just as Grandmother Moon’s reflection on a lake refracts innumerable aliases of her, I am a reflection of you. 

If I harm you, I harm myself. I could only harm you if I am ignorant of our dependence on each other, how I am because you are, and how you are because I Am. My heart hurts seeing you hurting. Yet every day, we spin again and Father Sun appears to us in the place we call the East. How much more can you keep hurting without ceasing to be? I grieve the possibility of our shockingly immanent death.

The form of Human comes and goes. Stars come and go. You too will come and go and assume a new form. But you have graciously given birth to us as your children so you have seen generations and generations of Human come and go, helping us to grow and develop and evolve. You are a bodhisattva of unparalleled greatness. My heart weeps with gratitude for your compassion.

Therefore, dear Mother, please help me now, help all of us now, we, your children who want to know how to recover our awareness of the reality of interbeing, and stop hurting you. You welcome us endlessly with your compassion. Infuse us with your wisdom now, that we may become more aware of you, your needs, and what measures we might now take in this unending play of aliveness. Please don’t let us sleep through it. Please wake us up!

I long for you, dear Mother, even as every drop of my blood is alive with you. I want to sing your praises, shouting from your mountain tops of your greatness! How awestruck I am by you! And oh, how you comfort me. How you bring everything into a balance and harmony that feels like perfection. 

But no matter if I shout like a crazy woman or keep quiet, you are there. If I laze in your grass or abuse you, you are there. If I busy myself and forget you, you are there. You cannot leave me. I cannot leave you. How profoundly poignant your love is. How blessed we are.

In the star spangled skies we receive glimpses of our origins. Space holds you. You hold us. In the blue black of your night-time heavens, our Silence and Stillness reveals itself. 

Each moment is new and I meet you again, over and over. 

May your waters be eternally blessed.
May your soil forever be rich with life forms.
May your atmosphere always scintillate with the miracle of Light.

Love,
Marga