What if every person could have the experience
of going outside and picking and eating a strawberry
still warm from the sun?
Would it change the world?
Probably.
It’s the ‘warm from the sun’ part that is so life-altering.
Something about that hot roiling star
reaching all the way down to this little berry plant,
having nourished it from the beginning,
then warming it so that when I pick that strawberry
–red, ripe and beautiful–
I, too, am warmed and nourished
and touched by the sun.
I chew then swallow this burst of sweetness
aware of the flavor, the texture, and still that warmth
from the sun that sits high in the sky over 94 million miles away.
Would it change the world if everyone could do that?
What do you think?
From sun and berries to hard rains on a summer day
this earth, this planet we call home, feeds every part of us.
Like the rain pounding down yesterday
cleansing and cooling
finally, briefly, letting me answer the siren’s call
of a long-sleeved shirt after so many days of hot.
The shirt is my father’s, who passed a few months ago.
Unbidden, as I put it on, I hear plain and clear,
“I love you so.”
Wrapped in the bear hug of this big shirt,
rain still pounding outside my open windows,
I feel a different kind of warmth.
The warmth of the love of a father.
And so it goes.
From sun to rain and all variation of seasons,
the earth brings us home to the truth of ourselves,
that we are one.
That all of us live and breathe
under the same sun,
whether we make our homes in deserts
or snow-capped mountains
or places between.
May the warmth of the sun
kiss your skin
and nourish your body.
May the rains wash clean
that which is ready to let go,
and wrap you in a garment
of undying love.
That is my wish for you.
