Living within nature, to primal people the Earth is not Other.
They embody their gods, the foods they eat, taking flights to alternative worlds in stride, they step outside.

Stearns Road Trail is not a path, but a raff of steep stone steps.
When you reach the top, to the right an imposing tree stands like a sentinel challenging your credentials. You can walk to either side; or, if you’re a shaman, stroll right through.

After she left, for weeks I couldn't face the trail we had walked together, the place by the creek where she had danced for me, the ways we had opened to each other. Now stones disappear beneath rising waters, trees reach their full height by brushing aside the sky. Or is it the wind?

It goes all the way through, an exit to another world.
An exit to another world is an entrance to this world from the Other Side. Then I begin to imagine
leaves and needles blot up sound, and you begin to feel watched—not by anyone, not by an animal even, or anything you can put a name to, just watched. You begin to feel judged. It’s as if some thing is keeping an eye on you just to see what could suddenly arrive.

It will take generations of teachers educated in science and the natural world to steer humanity’s plow through waters polluted by the failures of our political, religious and cultural institutions. From where will a new unselfishly creative generation appear?

The genius of surprise epiphanies is the Mystery at the core of our Being. It is how we survive, in spite of the mess we make.