“As human beings we cannot truly say that we are separate. We cannot sever ourselves. We are united with our surroundings–we belong to our environment.” – Rudolf Steiner, Agriculture Course, 49
Daybreak. Cool sunlight falls through the trees. My hands are black with soot, black in their cracks and creases. I work with earth.
I rise, walk up the mountain, noting the shooting star in seed and feathery yarrow in leaf. I walk on, bending beneath branches of overhanging pine and side-stepping the poison oak beneath my feet. I come at last to a rushing creek. As with every morning, I bare myself, and then I plunge in.
Cold water and evening fires. This is the life of the mountains.
I begin each day with water, and I end each night with fire. I split wood, then watch it crackle, consumed by flames. This is my meditation: to watch as the fire eats itself, and to watch as it lives on.
Living here, by the side of rushing creek, I move in my rhythms with the elements. For the first time in my life, I am subject to the rules of wood and water, hearth and flame. Moonlight wakens me at night–that, and the cold.
Here in this wood house, I am one with the elements of life. I am the fire that lights up the hearth. I am the water that flows, never ending, down mountain’s slope. I am the life force pushing up earth, emerging, every day, as the world of lush green life.