Touching Earth

I am a star gazer.  Have been for as long as I can remember.  There is something about looking up into that inky blackness and see the thousands upon thousands of jewels looking down on me.  It’s comforting to me.  Looking at the stars.  And them looking back at me. 

I don’t remember when I first became aware that the patterns I was seeing had also been seen by ancient civilizations too.  They had given the patterns names and stories to go along with them.  Stories of myth and legend.  Stories of greatness and folly.  Stories of joy and pain.  And especially stories of hubris.  Hubris was the big one.  Great men and women who had done great things.  Perseus destroying the Kraken.  Orion the Hunter chasing down the giant scorpion.  Persephone bringing about the change of seasons.  Jason and his famous Argonaughts battling the hydra.  And of course Prometheus bringing the secret of fire to world.  The stories had explained things; given meaning to the lives of the ancients.  And the stories filled me with wonder and excitement.  A small boy with big stories in his head. 

I guess I’m still that small boy inside – looking up into the night sky.  To a certain extent I still believe in the unbelievable.  I can’t bring myself to completely dismiss any story, even if it seems silly or impossible.  Believing in the impossible brings me hope.  It’s why I love comic books and stories of fantasy.  It’s why I’m so enamored with stories of fantasy and heroism.  It’s why part of me deep down still believes in giants, faeries and Santa Claus.  It’s possible.  I really, really want to believe that it’s possible.  Please don’t push me on this.  These beliefs are incredibly fragile – age and modernity have caused me to not look too closely at these things.  But they’re still there, carefully left in a protected place in my mind.  The belief in the impossible.

I’ve always loved watching for the constellation Orion.  There is something about that story and that constellation that is inspiring to me.  It’s easy to spot – three bring stars right in a row, two stars further apart just above the three in a row, and two stars further apart just below.  The three stars are his belt, the top two stars are his shoulders and the bottom two are his feet.  He stands firm and watches for things to hunt in the winter sky.  The higher he is in the sky the deeper we are in the throws of winter; the lower he is the closer we are to spring time.  I love that constellation – but I hate winter.  Winter isn’t fun.  Being cold isn’t fun.  Doing things in the snow isn’t fun.  I’m not a big fan of coldness in any way.  I’m not miserable during the winter.  I don’t become depressed or angry.  I just don’t like it.  As the winds build up and the snow gets deeper I cuddle up inside with a warm cup of chocolate and a good book and a thick blanket and I wait it out.  The sound of wind whipping through the trees, the biting sting of ice as it pummels me as I try and make it from car to building is enough to make me want to call in sick.  And getting sick all the time – the sniffles, the coughs, the aches and pains, all while my car won’t start and the thermostat doesn’t work is just one more reason to live further south than I already do.  For all this time I keep gazing up at Orion and think of him battling Scorpio while I battle Winter and I wait for Orion to disappear behind the mountains.  I just sit tight and wait for the first sign of spring.  And then the shoes come off.

I think part of the reason that I’m not a big fan of Winter is that I hate wearing shoes.  I really do.  Shoes just feel so constricting to me.  If I it weren’t so socially unacceptable I would take my shoes off all the time.  I would totally go barefoot everywhere.  So the other day when the snow and ice finally receded, at least for a few days, and the grass could be seen and there were daffodils poking their way up through the hard ground, I went outside.  I went outside and I slipped my shoes off.  I went outside, slipped my shoes off, and I stood in the old grass leftover from the ravages of Winter. 

The grass was cool beneath my feet.  It was rough and brittle from a season of being buried beneath a layer of ice.  But it was ready to grow green again.  It whispered to me as I stood there and felt the earth again beneath my bare feet.  It wanted warmth and so did I.  And so I did everything I could to send it my own warmth, encouraging the green to come again.  I stood in the sun, a conduit for its warmth, and I sucked it all in, and sent it down into my own front lawn, hoping it would have enough to fight back the chill of Winter for good.  But it wasn’t enough.  I guess there is still that pagan belief that the more of us who go barefoot the quicker we can drive Winter away.  Our warmth, given to the earth to bring back Summer.

A week later I mowed the lawn.  It wasn’t even April yet and I mowed the grass.  I cut it short so that all its strength could go into a small space.  And after the lawn was mowed I went into the front yard where a handful of daring daffodils were defying the wind to cut through their ranks and I laid down in the newly mowed grass.  I took my shoes off and I laid down and just felt the coolness of the grass again.  I waved by arms and legs back and forth like a child would in the snow making their snow angel imprint.  I made a grass angel.  My arms and legs moving through the newly mowed grass.  I couldn’t be out there for long because it wasn’t quite warm enough.  Winter still had a hold and I had to do something.  Spring break was coming up and I was on a Quest.

I left on spring break to snow and ice and rain and wind.  The daffodils were being assaulted as we pulled out of the driveway but for the greater good I turned my back on them and turned my face to the sun.  I drove for hours and hours and finally made my way to sunny San Diego.  People there were always apologizing for the weather.  Thirty degrees warmer than it had been in Utah and they were apologizing.  I guess everything is relative.  So I was completely fine with the weather.  I went to the beach once but mostly I just went without shoes.  I stood on the warm sand, or the warm grass, or on the warm concrete and I soaked it all in.  I was like a solar magnet – soaking in all the warmth I could.  For days I stood, with arms outstretched, eyes closed, facing the sun, bare feet planted firmly and I took in all the warmth I could find.  I touched the earth deeply.  And then on Sunday, as I was standing on the red brick patio, facing the sun, bare feet gripping the warm stone, the earth shook. 

Friends and family looked around in alarm as the earth moved beneath us.  Someone even looked at me and said, “Are you doing that?” and I just smiled and shook my head.  Even though I knew that I was.   I had been pulling in all that warmth to myself and the Earth had spoken.  I was being too eager.  I was upsetting the Balance of things.  And so I slowed down.  I kept my shoes off, but I didn’t do it with such vigor.  I walked softly through the warm sand and surf of San Diego.  I pulled that sunshine into myself that I had been missing for the past several months.  I thought of all those snowstorms howling through my neighborhood, and I gently allowed all that sunshine to fill me again – even as Orion dips behind the mountains.  And then I made my way back home hoping that the daffodils were still standing strong in my absence. 

I woke up to birds singing outside this morning.  They filled the air with their voices of new life and the sun coming back.  The shape of the mountains was visible even as I opened my eyes in the early hours of the morning.  The sun is coming earlier and earlier.  The daffodils have recovered and invited some tulips to join them.  They are all a bring and bold yellow.  Soon the reds will come, and then the white blossoms of my crabapple tree.  My yard is filling itself with color as the flowers anticipate the returning of the sun.  They are daring the snows to return and get melted offhand by their radiance.  I am going barefoot more and more.  My feet itch inside my socks.  My socks bunch up in warm knots inside my shoes.  My toes are anxious for the feeling of grass and earth and concrete.  My heels yearn for a walk down the street.

Today I will go home and mow the grass again.  I will mow in a pair of sandals for safety.  Sandals are my way of teasing my feet and the Earth for what is about to come.  But when I’m done I will take those sandals off.  I will stand in the grass with my bare feet planted firmly, toes flexing and gripping the cool new grass with heroic fervor and I will send all that warmth I’ve gathered back into the earth.  All that heat that made the earth shake will be sent back again in a new place.  Maybe what I’ve done will drive Winter away a few weeks early.  Maybe it will keep it away a few weeks more.  Maybe it will drive it away for good. 

But I will stand in my yard and I will silently call to the Earth to warm up, bring the flowers to bloom and the grill to light.  As I stand with arms outstretched and feet planted firmly I will plan BBQ’s in my head and make lists of people to sit in my warm backyard and talk and laugh and eat good food cooked over fire.  We will gather together and enjoy the light and warmth of Summer.  The sun will set late and new constellations will come out – Draco the Dragon and Hercules the Hero – constellations of Summer.  And we will enjoy the warm Summer night gazing up at the same jewels the Ancients did.  And I will sit silently with my shoes off and my toes gripping the thick green grass and I will smile – I will smile as I Touch the Earth.  I will smile as I sit and listen to friends laughing and talking and telling tall tales because they won’t even know what I’ve done for them.