Ordinary things

...so I have been reading Anne Primavesi's Sacred Gaia, which is interesting but I don't really recommend it...

But there are some things in there. We position the sacred as outside of the "real and everyday". This is as problematic as the way in which we talk about going "into Nature" when nature is everywhere - we are living beings, dependent and vulnerable, and part of the natural world.

What if the sacred is anywhere, everywhere? What if the hoverfly is as sacred as the swirling swifts and the fallen rose petals as sacred as a just-about-to-bloom bud?

I go to the woods waiting for signs - trees to talk to me, hares to lie down next to me. And those experiences are wonderful. But what if the blackbird's alarm calls, the stinging nettles, the ants, the air, the muntjac shit, are all sacred? How different it would be to walk through a world where everything is precious?

I watched the squirrel eat.

Oh, and on the subject of squirrels, the baby kamikaze squirrel seems better... I could not see the bald patches as he harassed the Unbraves. The crows remain recalcitrant.

I did not see the robins this morning - but I had the previous evening. Son of Bob has more red on his breast.

I hold on to... something... connections... places and people (human and non-human)... But I yearn always. For what? Peace?

Or, perhaps, to see myself as sacred... to see myself as, instead of a waste of Gaiain resources, as a sacred part of the becoming... just like all else that is.