Calm Amid The Steroid Storm...

When chaos abounds in my life, I play in the dirt. Much with the enthusiasm and vigor of a child making mud pies, I immerse my lily white hands in the soil. It brings me such comfort to scoop up the grainy substance in my palms and attempt, with aging eyes, to dissect the minute particles of matter...pausing to wonder perchance where each tiny grain originated.

I feel at peace with the dirt...an inexplicable attraction between us. If not for water and blood and muscle and nerve fiber, the dirt and I would look very much alike...kindred and sister spirits of sorts. I can sit in the dirt, covered in what some might find offensive grime, and relax...letting all my worries sink deeply through my feet to deposit in the soil. I consider this the most sacred art of recycling...to let Mother Earth take upon her shoulders those burdens too heavy for me to carry and transform them into beautiful acts of nature.

The dirt listens to me without ever uttering a word. It patiently awaits with chasmic arms, ready to embrace me at any moment of any hour of any day. It doesn't care if I am grumpy or lonely or sad...the soil knows the value of it's companionship.

Today, I have spent some brief time in the dirt. It never seems long enough, but life "above ground" beckons my attention. I envision one day, this body I call home will rest comfortably in the soil...and with enough rain and wind, I will one day travel the entire world.