The Last Well
“I know, it’s just a well. There’s water in it, and a bunch of microbial activity. This is planet earth, which supports many lifeforms. The closer you live to the land, the stronger your vital connection to that land is. And all the healing properties of nature lie dormant until we approach, maybe in muck boots, or bravely lying akimbo in the gnawed pasture grass, trusting our instincts. It feels so good. Just imagine a world in which you are free of your television, or social media. It wasn’t that long ago, we believed in our elders. If they said: “all clear”, we felt a sense of relief. Where are they now? Could you hear them, if they were trying to reach you? Or are you too entranced by other spell casters? The clouds have been speaking, the land has been quietly pushing forth its incredible joy. I’ve raked, and pruned the plants around the house. I hired someone local to do the mowing. I can’t do everything, nor rely on friends anymore. I’ll spend an hour working for someone else to pay for an hour of someone else’s time. That’s how it goes. Did you notice that the poor, the hourly laborers are the ones most willing to break quarantine? They have to go to work, regardless. The courage of people who have no choice, who are used to abuse and neglect, they are the ones who will show up. When you’ve lived a life where nobody bigger and stronger or more financially viable was there to have your back, you learn over time to stop caring about your own skin. You stop huddling in place, because nowhere is safe for you. No one really cares what you do. And this liberation has the same quality as the spring melt, where all waters rush down into a chaotic stream, no longer able to hold back the myth of separation. As I said very early on, when this whole thing was ramping up. I will shelter the sick. I will shop at stores that stay open. I am not afraid of getting sick. I am not afraid. I am not afraid.”