Like Leonard Cohen, singing of loss and love, make clear the beauty of what we stand to lose or what we have already destroyed. Celebrate the microscopic sea-angels. Celebrate the children who live in the cold doorways and shanty camps. Celebrate the swamp at the end of the road. Leave no doubt of the magnitude of their value and the enormity of the crime, to let them pass away unnoticed. These are elegies, these are praise songs, these are love stories.
-Kathleen Dean Moore
A Wild Dare:
Find your roots, your connection to creation.
Nestle into ways of being that allow you to live well while letting the rivers and lakes and clouds of dreams invite you to take that step into the unknown.
Go deep with your gratitude when the sun pierces your view as the fog lifts and the call of a crane reminds you to look up from the old worn path that everyone else decided to take.
See grace wherever your eyes land. Notice every opportunity to practice compassion toward all wild things.
Let go of expectation, and ride the torrents of change to a place of peace and healing.
Rest on the stump of an old evergreen and feel the passing of the times. Mourn what is gone and dying, and celebrate the beauty that can still be found in the lichen that grow at the graves of the clear cut forests and the tears that run down the ruined mountaintops. Remember that all is not lost.
Be whom you are called to be — mind, body and spirit — in full wildness and wholly grounded in the reality that illustrates your truth.
Be the love.
Send your howls to the wind and bear witness.
Claim the wild dare of living as one with the earth — with all things that are wild and free.
Tell the story that needs to be told.
Like Cassandra howling at the gates of Troy, bear witness to what you know to be true. Tell the truths that have been bent by skilled advertising. Tell the truths that have been concealed by adroit regulations. Tell the truths that havebeen denied by fear or complacency. Go to the tar fields, go to the brokenpipelines. Tell that story. Be the noisy gong and clanging cymbals, and be the love.
-Kathleen Dean Moore
Another version of this post appears at We Are Wildness