I take my little bucket of uneaten organic vegetable odds and ends out to the small compost pile behind our garage, and when I inhale the sweet, earthy aroma that is filled with molecules of transformation, my eyes close in gratitude, in a visceral sense of connection to the blessed earth. These are the bits of food I didn’t ingest through my mouth and yet I ingest them through their process of decomposition, their journey from one form into another, and it’s exquisite.
The steep, treacherous slope a few feet away tumbles and tangles itself down into a ravine, all the loose detritus from above dancing wildly if often slowly until they rest in the dark hollow and unfold into myriad forms of new life. Some of the bare slopes that surround me have been stripped of their deep rootedness until gravel is a hard, unstable topping where earthworm-enriched soil once lived and breathed beneath nurturing trees in community.
How can I give some new life to the hills? Being in this moment of sacred experiencing, I find I can return some bits of nourishment into the land, into the space where Spirit dwells. I can become part of the turning, the process of transformation into sacred soil, into the vibrant life and vitality of our Earth Mother.
Pausing, I feel TildTe, Goddess of this place we call home, watching … I feel her smile and nod from the swaying tree branches overhead and hear: every little bit is welcome.