Reading Time: 5 minutes
The Australian natives called the “Real People” call us mutants. They are kind, if we consider what the Kogi natives from Northern Colombia call us. They say we are dead; the dead people.
Because we have lost connection to the rest of the natural world so radically that we do not have the energy to be fully, vibrantly alive.
As I write these words, a tree is being cut in the garden outside my window.
It was a beautiful, exuberant tree with luscious branches that harbored birds, gave flowers and made my mornings a delight. It gifted me with its shadow and its green splendor. But it was more than that. It was a friend. It had inspired me many poems, taught me many life lessons, answered many of my questions. It shared my dreams and healed me when I was sick.
Today I woke up when a beautiful dream suddenly turned into a nightmare. I got up and heard the giant saws and looked out of the window to see my friend being mutilated. I looked at the label in the machine. “Tree […]