We are organs and extensions of that vital whole we call Gaia.  Gaia hungering in heat.  Gaia carrying the seed and substance of every imaginable potential.  Gaia giving birth to herself.
-Jesse Wolf Hardin

"The Welcoming"
I can hear the river singing clearly from atop the mesa our cabin is nested upon. Silvery and bell-like above the heady trill of tree-frogs and the steady pulse of crickets, the water calls to me in the dry heat of a New Mexico afternoon. Pulled by its call, I scramble down the rocky cliffside that leads to the sandy riverbank.

Though I feel like plunging into the cool water, I greet the river slowly instead, splashing my face with the mountain water and gazing at the bright blue reflection of sky that curves and flows with the dance of current. Easing myself in, I let the water flow over me as I hold onto the long green leaves of the cattails. Then I let go and allow my body to become the body of the river, and I say my wordless prayer to the water. Immersed, I feel fully connected to the world around me and to the whole of myself. In blissful communion I am able to let go of any imagined separation between myself and the river, the river and the sky, my spirit and the great spirit that permeates and empowers all that is. This connection inevitably leads me back into my original and intended state of ecstatic communion and joyful gratitude.

Each entrance into the river is a ritual for me, an entering into a conscious relationship with the water, with my body, with the body of the Earth. The Greeks named her Gaia, the mother of all the gods, and older than them all. She was called Nerthus by the Vikings, Matterakkha by the nomadic Sami and Pachamama to the indigenous peoples of Peru. Whatever her title, she is the living organism we are born from and are a part of, even after we return our bodies to the soil. Gaia is this sacred physical planet and also the amorphous spirit that enlivens, awakens, informs and fuels. She is us, other and place... and she is the breath that animates.

Whenever we mindfully interact with Nature/Gaia we renew our bond and connection with our larger self. This is the oneness that so many contemplative traditions and world religions have aspired to, but we need not seclude ourselves in a monastery or deprive ourselves of sensual pleasure to attain this seemingly elusive connection to the all.  We need only remember to touch the ground with gratitude, to be fully present below the glory of each night’s spray of stars, to feel each gentle breeze that caresses us in the Summer’s heat, coming to know ourselves as her in all her changing forms.

Children are often the purest examples of humans as manifestations of Gaia’s feeling body, unabashedly expressing joy at the blooming of a flower, tears at the death of a baby bird, and alarm at the organized chaos of a traffic jam. We are all empathic extensions of the earth.  Unfortunately, society or circumstance can lead us to withdraw from these intense feelings, to shelter ourselves from sometimes painful or seemingly overwhelming realities.

Growing up in an abusive home and then spending years living on and off the streets, taught me to shut off my inborn sensitivity in order to survive the violence and fear of my environment.  As I grew older, I began to realize how very inaccessible a large part of me was, as if the delighted little girl inside was somewhere hidden away, and I was left numb and searching.  It was only when I found my beloved canyon home here in the Gila wildlands, that I slowly began to re-open to my own feelings, and in turn, to the feelings of Gaia. I began performing every daily act mindfully, whether it was gathering kindling for the wood stove, taking a walk with our daughter, or gazing at the lavender and rose glory of another Southwestern sunset.  By paying attention to each moment and movement, I was able to be fully in the present and feel the beauty and pain of the now, without the need to run away or shut down.  As I learned to become more and more present, I was able to physically connect with Gaia in increasingly prayerful ways. I silently thanked the grandmother cottonwood tree I leaned my back against.  I sang small songs to the growing plants as I watered them and I caressed the flow of the river each time I slipped into its flow.  These slow steps – towards really feeling both the beauty of the earth and the pain of my own past– helped me regain a connection with myself and the natural world I hadn’t felt since early childhood.
 
Part of opening our hearts, is letting go of the supposed primacy of our minds.  While most of us have grown up thinking that our intelligence, or lack thereof, was our defining feature, it is the caring sensitivity of our hearts that will allow us to fall in love, to discern our greatest challenges and callings, to have courage to fulfill our most meaningful purpose.  Our hearts are as connective tissue, the intense feelings that bind us one to another, woman to man, human to tree, child to blossom.  It is through our hearts that we are able to feel the death agony of our mother Gaia as the rainforests fall, and the ecstasy of seeds bursting and birthing, of tender green shoots of vibrant life uncurling towards the rising sun.

In future columns you will join me in exploring how to best open our hearts and connect to Gaia, to our gifted selves and individual purposes.  I’ll be addressing such subjects as inhabiting and embodying our bliss, fully nourishing our bodies and spirits, the importance of following our intuition, the meaning of wild and how to reclaim our own inherent wildness, ways of creating ritual moments in our everyday lives... Creating sacred space, seeking out the work and purpose that serves our spirits and the world, ways of communing with other life forms and how to maintain an intense connection to Gaia through the pavement and in our busy lives.  Welcoming awareness.  And being welcomed in return.

This connection we tap and grow is our root center, the foundation on which all of our other perceptions and experiences will grow from.  From this center we are able to better love, be totally present for sensual pleasures like eating and lovemaking, sense our purpose and fulfill our dreams. Not only are we able to see more clearly and feel more intensely, but we are also able to act more confidently from our authentic beings, making each moment a decisive one, each day another ecstatic step in the co-creation of our lives, our world, our shared reality.

"We know our selves to be made from this earth.  We know this earth is made from our bodies.  For we see ourselves.  And we are Nature... Nature weeping.  Nature speaking of Nature to Nature.  The red-winged blackbird flies in us, in our inner sight.  We see the arc of her flight.  We measure the ellipse.  We predict its climax.  We are amazed.  We fly."
-Susan Griffin

Climbing from the river, I stand in the warm sand and let the breeze blow my body dry.  The sun is dipping toward the western canyon wall and I can smell the sweet scent of dinner drifting down from the mesa.  All around me, the melody of frog song swells and falls in gentle cadence with the lapping of the water against the riverbank, with the whisper of the willow leaves, with the pulse of my blood, with the steady beat of the heart of Gaia.