A Hymn of Love to the Earth.
Hold out your hands and let me lay upon them a bunch of freshly picked bluebells, delicate and brooding blue, like teardrops cried by an ancient goddess who once walked this terrain.
Find the fragrance of honey and jasmine seep through the holy scent of black earth after rainfall, breathe it all in and you’ll remember things you believed to be forgotten.
Look up into the deep bowl of celestial cerulean, drink it up again and again, this is medicine for your eyes. Our irises flicker in time with the fluidity of galaxies and the flutter of comets.
Far out beyond the shoreline, you hear it. Beyond the reach of any boat and on the foggy coastline scalloped by shells and coves. Humpback whales, gentle giants of the sea, chime their ancient prayers that hum like shamans conjuring the rain.
Heat waves shiver across the grass like a black cat’s purr, the air is heavy and thunderstorm-yellow and ringing with the whir of cicadas, a suspicious mantis praying for twilight and fearful moths in search of the moon.
Take refuge in a shady grove where the grass is soft and cool underfoot, where the crickets sing and the sweet smell of ripe strawberries entice you like stout, scarlet sirens growing and coiling out of the damp ground. They are a gift of erotic pleasure. Heart berries, indeed. “Your role is to love me,” they whisper as you ardently lick your red-stained fingertips.
I encourage you to drape your body over the earth, to be cradled by the gentle tickles of dew-soaked grass and buttercups. Allow your hair to be entangled with the dandelions as they dance to the rhythmic global breath.
Place your hands upon the wild, wild ground and feel the pitter-patter of a ladybird’s feet upon your toes, whilst a honeybee rests on the warmth of your breast in the rudimentary setting sun.
Reach your fingertips out towards the remote, swollen sky to feel the fresh breeze kiss your wrists as your palms sway with the wide threshold of heavy clouds.
Kneel for the soulful, sparkle of all the stars. They are but throbs of one body harmonized by a primitive pulse beating to the roaming of your blood.
Lounge by a quilt of moss unfurling upon the cottony edge of a pond, and be mesmerized by golden apples gliding along its surface, like globes of light weaving through eventide.
Run into the fray of falling foliage and sweetgrass as they float onto the mud.
Feel the fever dream of the moon swishing over mountains like a ball of silk as you sit by the river to watch its reflection glow like worlds within worlds within worlds.
Hear the rippling language of the waters talk to the warrior trees as they stretch out in silent prayer. Make love in the rain, under the protective bows of a weeping willow. Skin upon skin, lips caressing lips in the here and now, shrouded by the endless undulating orbit of ferns.
Look deep into the amorous eyes of your lover as you sweep their hair back from their ears, and truly see the wilderness bursting from their eyes in the gloaming.
Like the freedom cry of a falcon, the laughter of an otter, the sweetness of a faun and the mystery of a fox all bundled up into a human being you are unafraid to love. And they return their love for you, in all your storms and in all your grit.
Open yourself up to the voices of silver bells, the rush of waterfalls, the little robin song and the silence of mosses, and you will be humbled.
Oak and blackberries, sea grass and cockle shells, stag beetles and the winter wren. The whole world is woven together like a wild basket, and it is big enough to hold us too.
We are reminded every day that nature is magic coming to life.
The heart of a blue whale is as big as a house, with chambers tall enough for a human being to stand in. A fig is born when a female wasp lays her eggs inside a flower, after which she dies and decomposes. The fruit is evidence of her soul’s transformation, evidence of reincarnation.
Breathing in the scent of mother earth releases the hormone oxytocin, a chemical that promotes bonding. We are held in the loving arms of Gaia, it is therefore no wonder we sing whilst gardening or walking in the woods.
A giant flock of starlings in the sky is called a murmuration. Thousands of birds becoming one huge spirit bird! It is a sea of birds swimming with the clouds and blocking out the sun, gliding together like shooting stars dancing in the afternoon haze.
Sometimes the magic is so bright, our mind cannot fathom it. Sometimes the truth that we are all connected is so vast, nobody believes it.
I am a bird made of birds, I have countless wings that hum and soar the depths of my dreams.
I am a raging ocean with a heart as big as a blue whale’s, and you can stand up in its chambers, where my love will carry you. I carry you in my heart for I have so much space.
I am the soil holding out my arms to you whilst singing with devotion. I am dying inside many flowers, over many lifetimes, and I offer you my fruit, I offer you all that I am. This is what I was born to do. To live, to fly, to love, to die, to live again!
I take great pleasure in roving in the sweet brutality of life and of the earth. I marvel at such feral divinity that weaves through each creature and each plant like a spider’s tender web.
This is a hymn of love to the earth,
We are all wildflowers in this meadow called life,
Our hearts belongs with the roses, the poppy and the plum.
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Katie Ness is an Ayurvedic Yoga teacher for all ages, Reiki teacher, Women’s Circle facilitator, belly dancer and artist from the UK. As a traveling yogini, she has visited over 20 countries and hopes to facilitate international Yoga and Sacred Feminine retreats in the near future. She spends her free time illustrating in her nature journal, reading an absurd amount of books, playing with her tarot cards, or crafting dream-catchers. At present, she is studying herbalism, floral design and botanical illustration. She can be found practicing yoga and writing poetry in woodlands and by the sea. You could contact Katie via Instagram.
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