Easter morning, the sun was just breaking over the Eastern ridge, and I played out one of my deepest cultural myths in my head, and saw Jesus rise peacefully from his grave.
The sun, that son, that shines indiscriminately on all Earthlings each day, offering prana, life-force and life-source energy into our beings.
The nourishing light of unconditional love from the heavens. The literal, and spiritual fuel for our planet’s existence, and for humans and other than humans reason to be.
The light that recently tipped over the brim of the glass, that now those of us in the northern hemisphere will be bathed with in abundance until the dark half of the year begins again at Autumn Equinox.
Our most primal motivation to continue on with the cycles of our lives, and also a subtle and soft opening for the soul. I imagine, like a tulip. With each turning my heart melting open a bit wider, wider.
I imagine the story of Jesus, or the literal person, came to humanity at a time when we were forgetting. At no fault of ours - just that of a larger cycle of existence on this planet, governed by even grander forces, like the ‘yugas’ - it is just the times we happen to become embodied in.
At that time, we must have needed a reflection born in our own skin. Our own shape, and similar consciousness. The other-than-human relationships were becoming harder to translate, to relate to. Our senses were perhaps less keen to the experiences played out in larger cycles, or more distant relations. We were ripe for a human to remind us of our capacity for love, compassion, faith and healing.
The urge to connect with nature, and the rhythms of nature in this mythic way again is a part of the times we live in now. A part of the returning. You, I, we, are the Earth reflected and refracted, into billions of individual crystalline forms. Our emotions are ‘her’ emotions. Our hopes her hopes, fears her fears, desires her desires. It’s a lot, and it’s complex, and that’s okay.
We are each completely woven into the fabric of this planet. We belong.