Witnessing the Gifts of the Earth
By: Jude Knife, April 6, 2023
The ground is under me. The air is around me and within my lungs. The rain drops fall on my skin. I am made of earth stuff, therefore I belong outside. The birds chirp around me, the wind hugs me, and the sun shines on me. You cannot tell me this is not the warmest invitation you have ever received. That all of the outdoor things are not inviting you to the most gentlest most restful meditative and creative party you didn't know you needed. That you always need.
The earth loves me. Why do I feel more like myself after a walk around my neighborhood? Why do I feel more like myself when the sun comes out to play? Why do I feel more myself when I weed around the tall sunflower stalks? Why do I feel more like myself when I go for a long run where I am inhibiting my full body? Why do I feel more like myself when I breathe the air the trees give me? There is simply no other solution. The earth loves me and that is that.
For the longest time I did not think of myself as an outdoor person. I think living in the PNW there is a certain amount of intensity that comes with that title and I just do not have it. I like to commune with the earth but in the most gentle way possible. I will not be first up the mountain. I am a mosier. I absolutely love a slow run. I love a gentle mid day or morning walk. I like to take my time and take it all in. It is medicine after all. There is nothing here that is telling me to be, do, act a certain way. I just get to enjoy my time in the slowness of it all.
However, it has taken a while for me to understand that I can be outdoorsy in the way of the cute black farmer, the aimless walker, the slow runner, the occasional camper, the downhill biker biker, or dare I say a mosier….
When I was living my best life as a Black farmer I was constantly reminded how long it takes for anything to grow and be beautiful in every stage. There is a time for rest, there is a time for germinating, there is a time for buds, there is a time for blooming, and there is a time for fruiting, and there is a time for composting. Slowness and imperfect perfection is the way of the earth and I intend for it to be the way I am as well. I have so many lessons to learn, and this lesson is a perennial one. I will come back to it time and time again and it will come back to me time and time again.
I would like to offer you all some pictures of some of my adventures and some of the tunes that center and ground me of the beauty of living to witness the gifts of the earth and those of us who inhabit it.
