🌘 The age of miracles and madness.

This is the age of miracles and madness. We stumble about, dizzy from displacement.

We can’t understand the cracks and crevices that have split open our lives when all we can see is our feet still planted firmly on the earth. Solid. Concrete. Right?

What about the stars then? Do they feel the fracture in our cosmos? They do not. They continue to sparkle and twinkle traitorously in the night skies we’ve never seen so clearly.

The birds sing more boldly. Perhaps to fill the silences. Or perhaps the silences have given them the space to be heard.

What is the cause, what is the effect. What comes first, the cart or the horse. The chicken or the egg.

Gibberish courses through my brain, my veins.

I feel myself beautifully untethered from convention. From schedules and expectations. From sanity.

The world has not stopped. Just ours. We humans who believed ourselves to be so above it all. And yet. These weeks, oh these endless weeks show us how foolish we have been.

We are not the world. Au contraire. The world is thriving without us. It is only us humans that feel absence and loss.

Listen. Stop. Close your eyes. Feel what the breeze is saying. Hear the calm in the ocean. See the joy in the leaves.

The unquenchable thirst of humans has been cast aside. So callously. So quickly.

This is disorienting. We are master and keeper. How can the earth keep rotating about its axis when my world has

stopped.

How dare the clouds nourish the soil, coaxing seedlings up towards the unfettered sunlight.  The air, freed of the poisons for a time, tastes sweet to all the beings that depend on it.

Will we remember these lessons?

Oh silly. Of course not.

Lessons are for those that listen. That seek to learn.

We, on the other hand, know all there is to know.

We wait then. For normal. For return. For dominance.