You Are Earth

This past week I spent a lot of time with my hands in dirt.

After my attempts to grow corn, snap peas, and tomatoes struggled due to inconsistent watering, I made it a goal for August to rig up my own drip irrigation system set on an automatic timer.

This is a project I know that I’ve need to do for a while, as I watched our corn and peas turn crispy and brown in the relentless Southern California sun. But I was intimidated by my lack of knowledge and engineering skills.

What motivated me to dig in was remembering my innate nature. I am not separate or distinct from the earth. I am part of it. As a human I have a debt to pay to all that has nourished me from this earth. Rigging a drip system for vegetables became an act of service, an act of love, rather than a chore. The poet A. Marcus can explain it better than I can:

You are comprised of 84 minerals,

23 elements, and 8 gallons of water

spread across 38 trillion cells.

You have been built up from nothing by

the spare parts of the earth you

have consumed, according

to a set of instructions

hidden in a double helix and small

enough to be carried by a sperm.

You are recycled butterflies, plants,

rocks, streams, firewood, wolf fur, and

shark teeth, broken down to their

smallest parts and rebuilt into our

planet’s most complex living thing.

You are not living on earth.

You are earth.

And while a drip irrigation system is really just a bunch of tubes and connectors drawing water to vegetables, it becomes an extension of my reciprocity of care. Earth creates and nourishes us; we must nourish it in return.

This is your reminder to spend some time noticing and nourishing yourself and nature this week.