In the warming of summer I am moved to laying belly onto the earth, be it beach, or soft warm rock, urban park or forest. Pausing. Between immersions in water, listening to the sounds of the festival in the park, taking a break during the hike in the forest or, just because its summer, belly to the earth.
There is something childlike and innocent in laying belly onto the ground, even trusting in some sense. Opening one to seeing through what some might call a ‘macro’, or ‘close-up’ lens focusing on the immediate world, in front of my nose. Yet, even in observing the small, also allowing me to see huge patterns as well. Understanding, as I lie on this thin, thin layer of soil that covers much of the surface of the land of this planet, how essential it is to our human wellbeing, as well as being home, and habitat to thousands upon thousands of small beings; bacteria, fungi, archaea and algae, protozoa, nematodes, mites, springtails, spiders, insects, and earthworms all within a bucketful of soil. Feeling as well the energetic movements of water and nutrients, and perhaps even messages through the deep fine weavings of threads of fungal mycelium in mycorrhizal networks between the trees of a healthy landscape. Looking down and I see miracles of life. I see part of who each of us is. Perhaps as William Blake observes in his poem, Auguries of Innnocence,
To see a World in a Grain of Sand. And a Heaven in a Wild Flower. Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand. And Eternity in an hour.
Oh, the openings to the infinite through the seeing of the small. The celebrating of the sacred as we lay our belly onto the earth.
