I Am Tending The Roots: Sacred, Everyday Acts

This is a reading of my freewrite response to the prompt: "If humanity were an ant colony, what is your role?"

At 1:45 the reading begins: an encouraging declaration which celebrates the quiet unseen, the energetic, the subtle, spiritual alignment, and following one's impulses. May my personal experience inspire fellow empaths and highly-sensing folk to proudly and strongly move through the world in a way that feels aligned to their hearts, bodies, and unique souls.

Transcript

Hello! Welcome! Today I want to share with you a recent free write of mine. During a month-long exploration with ants, The insect, My teacher, Molly Cairo-May, Gave us the writing prompt, If the ant colony is humanity, What is your role? I'm sharing my response in the hopes of making visible the harder-to-see paths. There are many responses to what the current times ask of us, Which are easier to see and document, Which are loudly celebrated and valued in the overculture. But there are myriad ways to respond. I encourage everyone to follow their body's impulses, The tiny nudges their souls call, The spiral path of authenticity, Coming home to joy, To love. For years I have been highly attuned to my body's preferences, Listening, Noticing, Moving towards joy, Pleasure, Delight, Learning what makes this body come alive as it continues to change, Growing deep roots and trust in the Great Mother and this divine web of life. From that perspective, Here is my response to my current role in these times. I am tending the roots and sowing seeds, Focusing energy on that which I know in my whole body and soul is true. Intention matters, Precision of language matters, Self-expression is healing. Human bodies exquisitely heal, Create, Bloom, Thrive when in loving communities where they are free to fully self-express, To experience human emotions of all textures and still belong, To belong always. And so, I am learning to express my true essence, Drop by drop, Pendulating, Noticing. I am illuminating the greater web of which I am always a part, Looking at the branches through the skylight first thing upon waking. I am creating with yarns because it feels joyful to do so, Sprawled on the floor, Wrapping around sticks in a star pattern, Or sitting at the table, Threading it over, Under, Over, Under, Back and forth on a loom, Slowly creating line by line. I am singing songs as they come, These precious wisps in the wind, Heart handholds as I climb, And when it feels right, Sharing them as they are. I am moving my pen across paper with my hands, Expressing my spirit in my wire-bound journal, On backs of scrap paper, Receipts, Envelopes, On clean paper that will be photocopied for others to see. I am soaking in beauty, Exclaiming aloud when I saw the librarians braid yesterday, Three braids braided together, My body instantly enlivened by that texture of human thread, An artful new pattern of bumps, Just so, Lying right there between chin and shoulder. I am reflecting light and essential selves back to others, Through handwritten notes and voice messages, Decorating the envelopes, Smiling at young ones, At old ones, At humans at the grocery store. I am aware of our sacredness, Sending blessings as I unfold fresh sheets and prepare beds at work for weekend guests I'll never meet, Smoothing out any creases, Preparing the pillows just so, May they sleep well, May their soul receive what it needs here, Looking guests in the eye as I ask what toppings they'd like on their oatmeal bowls, Which we make one by one, Even with sixteen waiting in line. I am not rushed. First, A spoonful of soaked raisins, Which drop and roll heavily to their final resting place. Then, The toasted almonds, Still warm from the frying pan, Followed by a sprinkling of chia seeds, Which spread lightly and evenly across the oatmeal hill. Then I powder on the cinnamon, With the tiny measuring spoon that sits inside the spice jar. And lastly, The sweet maple syrup, Which I slowly tilt to one end of the jar so it won't gush out at once. I drizzle on the sweet stream in a zigzag pattern, Gently tipping the jar back to catch the last drop so it won't spill down the sides. And then I hand the bowl to the guest and meet their gaze again. I don't have the overall big picture map. Many things I think today, I'll learn otherwise tomorrow. I am willing to be wrong, To become those I've judged, To leave paradigms, To try on new ideas through my body, Not from an authority outside of myself. So, I don't hold tightly to the thoughts. I release the idea of knowing. Instead, I'm rooting in love and trusting what my body feels, The tiny nudges, This glorious body, The perfect map, Divinely guided, Leading me from this moment, With this breath, This open heart, Into the next. This body knows transformation, Knows we humans can go from seed, To sprout, To tree, To forest, Beyond what's imaginable today. I know how to use intention in everyday words, Actions, Rituals, To remind myself of the great web, Of great mother's love and abundance, Of beauty and joy, To create a nurturing community within my home, My body, And soak it in, To nurture deep trust in what's unseen by human eyes, But what's felt deeply in my soul, Body, And heart. The truth of being spirit humans on earth.