Sublime

One of the first movements toward bonding with Earth is when we learn to crawl. It happens early, perhaps at nine months of age. We have gained some control over our bodies and have some mobility. For the first time, of our own volition, we begin to leave our mother’s side. We begin to crawl, across the floor or outside on the grass, until some

I’ve gone into the outside world to reobserve society. The sign language of emotion I once knew has been replaced by a matrix of interrelated equations. Lines of force twist and elongate between people, objects, institutions, ideas. The individuals are tragically like marionettes, independently animate but bound by a web they choose not to see;

Each one volunteers to be eaten, so others might be spread far afield.

do not think it too remote that we may come to regard the Earth, as some have suggested, as one organism, of which mankind is a functional part—the mind, perhaps.

We lend ourselves to gravity, becoming adjuncts of the ground itself. Only by thus renouncing the vertical stance—dropping away our upright individuality and leaning back upon the earth, letting our gaze become the gaze of Earth itself—do we make some sense of the endless depths in which Earth dwells.