Be Down Low

"Do you know what that is, sweet pea?  To be humble?  The word comes from the Latin words humilis and humus.  To be down low.  To be of the earth.  To be on the ground."  -Cheryl Strayed, Tiny Beautiful Things

"Earth, my likeness, though you look so impassive, ample and spheric there, I now suspect that is not all; I now suspect there is something fierce in you eligible to burst forth." -Walt Whitman, "Earth, My Likeness"

A few months ago Kevin & I spent a Saturday night pawing through our Collected Poems of Whitman.  Whitman wrote a poem called "This Compost."  No lie.  Of course, I don't believe he's using "compost" in the modern sense of purposefully returning organic matter to rich soil.  I believe he's applying the age-old definition of organic material inevitably returns to rich soil.  This rich soil is compost.

Based on my reading, Whitman wrote this shortly after witnessing the trauma of the Civil War.  The poem is too long to quote in it's entirety, but it expresses awe & horror at the diseased limbs & toxic matter absorbed by the earth.  Whitman watches fruit and flowers emerge from what was once rotting corpses.  Though impressed, he's scared.  His response seems to be an obvious reconciliation with the horrors of war.  He begins with, "Something startles me where I thought I was safest," in nature, on earth.  Slowly finding hope in the restorative power of the natural world, he ends by writing, "It gives such divine materials to men, and accepts such leavings from them at last."

This idea is lingering with me.  I took a fruit tree pruning workshop a few weeks ago.  The instructor briefly mentioned certain plant's ability to draw towards them (through chemicals & other behaviors) animals that might eat a predatory insect.  Plants, that are often characterized as inert, are dynamic.  I've written here & in the Rooted Blog about soil's capacity to heal, regenerate, break down inorganic material, find balance with various plants, & ultimately restore healthy habitats.  As Whitman wrote in "Earth, My Likeness," "I now suspect there is something fierce in you eligible to burst forth."

Derrick Jensen suggests to his readers to spend time on the ground.  Literally, lay down on grass or dirt or whatever is available to you & watch.  As a yoga practitioner, this feels like meditation.  Watching the earth at ground level, we're suddenly conscious of the many worlds cohabitating.  The actions of ants, the subtle movement of grass, the breath of soil.  This is why we practice yoga-- to draw deeper into our body's own dynamism.  Obviously, as I've written before, I see a profound parallel here.

This past month, my studio has been thinking about sickness, disease, & dying.  I've begun to reflect on taking in toxic foods that caused me to become ill.  I remembered bouts of sickness.  I've thought of death touching me, peripherally, & one day profoundly.  It reminds me of my body's ability to "give such divine materials" and "accept such leavings."  There is a profound ability, in soil, in bodies, to absorb, reconcile, and transform that which does not kill.  Even deadzones, like regions impacted by volcanoes or man-made "disasters" often teem with unpredicted new life.

I'm finding hope in these thoughts.  I'm finding renewed belief in the capacity of earth & body to evolve, grow, & be healthy.  In no way do these thoughts exonerate me, nor anyone else, from actively working against impediments to individual or collective health.  If anything, I find myself more motivated to fight against fracking, Monsanto, & any other practices or corporations that interfere with health.  But I also know that the devastation caused thus far is possibly impermanent.  I suspect that something fierce is eligible to burst forth.