This morning, feeling an impenetrable sadness, I decided to write a letter to it to set it free.
What destroys me most is the way we treat each other and the earth. It’s as if we’re anti-life, the destruction of our home—our living, breathing earth—is so great. Why can’t we remember that this one earth is all we’ve got: when we destroy it, we’re never getting it back. I cannot fathom this stupidity, because that’s what it is: blindness, deafness. It is unthinking, unfeeling. We are so disconnected from source that we cannot see that we are sealing our own destruction. When we steal from the earth, we steal from ourselves: another drop of liveliness, of vitality and health gone.
Our lives are at stake and we’re plowing ahead for profits, I guess. Does no one realize that this is a betrayal of our profits, a pillaging of our treasure? Instead, what we’ve created—and continue to blindly sow—is the greatest act of mass fratricide.
We’re killing our brothers and our sisters and our mother, Earth, too.