Finding the soil in which to truly grow

I have always had an appreciation of erosion. The edge of the earth is constantly shedding its form. Crumbling, disintigration, an ongoing example of solid form filtering and returning to dust

Where I live the contours of the earth are mearly the wrapping on a history of time. For a few years all l noticed was the surface, but eventually, like in any relationship, the deeper nature of all things soon gets exposed.

It took time, till my mid thirties, to get a realistic overview of life. Enough to appreciate, and maybe even be grateful for every chapter of my life being essential, no matter how painful or uncomfortable. It was also in conjunction with that, I accepted that no bed of roses is without its thorns. In addition to have really exceptional roses, a bit of shit is necessary.

In an interview on the radio EO Wilson talked about, if he took 1 square foot of soil, he could probably be fascinated and content for the rest of his life. To me that spoke of a scientific and inquisitive mind. Maybe my interest in the earth is also about my inner journey. To consider not just my current life, but the origins of me. Beyond the garden I was planted in. There is the nature of me and how I flourish and respond, or what is toxic and has stunted my growth.

I am at the beginnings of creating a new garden for my own existence. From the roots up there is a lot I have denied till now. It is a strange thought to think of growing without my roots entangled. Without being bricked in by the confines of another. Oh how sweet a flower the possibilities of new growth and a forest of my own.