It’s not by accident that the positive wildness of our planet disappears as the understanding of our own inner wild nature fades.*
Clarissa Pinkola Estés

The earth is not outside us – it is within us: the clay from where the tree of the body grows.**
John O’Donohue

I stop to look across this open field of grass,
So different to me that I conclude it can never be me, nor I it,
Yet the wild poet Walt Whitman declares that,
Upon his passing, he may indeed be found beneath our feet:
I bequeath myself to the dirt
to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again
look for me under your bootsoles.^

If there is such a thing as magic
this must be it: I am
this earth and it is me –
Something that aids my wellness,
Opens me to wonder,
And allows me to reconnect with my wildness – benefits our world
and universe want to impress upon you and I:
Alan Lightman turned off the engine of his small boat,
lay on his back looking up at the stars:
The boat disappeared.
My body disappeared.
Awareness of my body and ego disappeared.
And I found myself falling into infinity …
I felt connected not only to the stars
but to all of nature, and to the
entire cosmos. I felt part
of something much larger than myself.^^

*Clarissa Pinkola Estés’ Women Who Run With the Wolves;
**John O’Donohue’s Divine Beauty;
^Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass;
^^Alan Lightman’s The Transcendent Brain.