Earth Speaks

Earth is a spinning rock with a core, mantle and crust. It is cold in the winter and hot in the summer. It’s round, wet and crowded. Fortunate humans live 100 years. A blink of an eye. Just be kind.

The core is 1,800 miles below the surface. The inner core is 750 miles thick. The temperature is 6700F. It is a dense ball of iron and nickel.

The outer core is 1,370 miles thick. The mantle is above the core. The mantle is 1,800 miles thick. The crust is 3.14 or apple Pie. A genius said, ‘there are lies, damn lies and statistics.’

Deep inside the core fire burns through levels of shifting Teutonic plates, shuddering massive pressure, blathering hot embers, fumes, mixing gases, molten silica and impatient promiscuous sulphuric acids.

This natural evolutionary pressure creates a gigantic orgasm, spewing, releasing, exploding, melting through the mantle to the crust, surface and into the atmosphere.

My volcano blasts ash cinder and molten rocks the size of small projectiles into the atmosphere where they fly, float, fall, dance and evaporate in wind.

Curling tsunamis wave goodbye to land.

Nature is a gigantic, sublime, violent experiment. Nature is an awesome, beautiful, terrifying and magnificent dramatic teacher. Magma at work. Do not disturb.

Nature informs humans in clear non-negotiable terms, you adapt, adjust, evolve or you die. You die anyway, said Death. No Exit. This is natural selection.

You have a brain and a big toe. You are destined by natural selection to walk many journeys as a storyteller. Simple as that …

Nature said, I have no plan, agenda, flight plan, schedule, meeting, economy, government, or boarding pass. My departure gate is the crust.

I have total power … I am unpredictable … I am violent and benign … I am gentle, kind and generous … I giveth and I taketh away … Humans with their limited intelligence will never control me, manipulate me or own me … I create and I destroy. That’s my Nature.

Now I become Death, the destroyer of worlds, said Oppenheimer witnessing an atomic test blast on the Bikini Atoll, according to Vishnu.

Another manifestation is Mahakala, the Tibetan Lord of Time.

Humans are naïve and lazy. They don’t pay attention to Nature until I shift plates below the Tibetan plateau causing an earthquake or rattle their sushi along The Ring of Fire. Blast off!

Humans use fire to cremate bodies. There are not enough vultures to eat the remains.

Ash, a natural by-product, goes with the flow.

Dummies

Freedom

“We are caretakers of Mother Earth,” said the shaman girl.

“I want to swallow the world but I am too full of sorrow,” said one.

“I’m going to start a club for procrastinators,” said another, “anybody want to sign up for unlimited access?”

“Are your needs being met?” said Rose.

“I have a need for freedom and a freedom from need. Perhaps I’ll end up taking care of people like us,” said a girl named Hope. “I’m the last myth that dies.”

“Yeah, you can work in a day care center for adults.”

“That’s a-dolts.”

“Hah. We are all death deferred,” said Martha Ann, fixing her glasses with duct tape.

Seeing her experiment with optical illusions, a kid said, “Remember James Joyce? He said, ‘Wipe your glasses with what you know.’”

“Are you plagiarizing again?”

“No. It’s taken out of context.”

“Textile, tactile, texture, context, content, abstract, where’s it all going?”

“Let’s not have this conversation in the abstract,” screamed an abused child being whipped with a fishing pole by his neurotic mother in a wheelchair.

“Are we wondering or wandering?”

“Where’s eternity end?” said the astronomer kid.

“I’m going to study the bottom line,” said a boy raising a digit testing imprecise global economic market index indicators based on assumptions. “If we control the debt, we control the country.”

“International financiers and corporations run the show, babies. Politicians are their slaves.”

ART

Mandalay Palace

Dance

My life dance is ambiguity, acceptance, independent detachment and creative imagination.

Dance is isolated yet cooperating and independent. I believe in the magic of dance.

When you dance for a fleeting moment you feel alive.

What do I see? I see a circle of movement, a connected unity, language in space.

There are five rhythms in dance.

You start with a circle. It’s a circular movement from the feminine container. She is earth.

Then you have a line from the hips moving out. This is the masculine action with direction. He is fire.

Chaos is next, a combination of a circle and line where male and female energies interact.

This is transformation.

After chaos is the lyrical. A leap. A release. This is air.

The last element of dance is stillness. Out of stillness is born the next movement.

I’ll dance until I die. What is life?
 Dance.

Nepal

Radio Activity

After she left to explore the Snake he went to buy stamps, specifically images from the Hubble Space Telescope with names like Eagle Nebula, Ring Nebula, Lagoon Nebula and Galaxy NGC 1316.

He launched into a brief but stimulating discourse with the young unarmed postal worker woman about how amazing and beautiful were the colors and definitions of the galaxies mentioning how incredible it is to consider, even begin to glimpse them while trapped inside a federal building five short miles down wind from the Hanford Nuclear Reactor where fifty-five million gallons of buried radioactive waste seeped into water table levels near the Columbia River.

Department of Energy teams dived into, under, and through Columbia waterfalls near tributaries where the confluence of Northwest rivers gnashed their teeth snaking, roaring past abandoned nuclear plants as radioactive waste in decaying drums left over from W.W.II was flowing 130 feet down, down toward water tables.

Fascinating. He turned another fragile yellow page marked Top Secret Evidence or T.S.E. “It’s called Technicium, TC-99,” said an Indian scientist on a shuttle between reactors. “This is the new death and we know it’s there and there is nothing we can do to prevent it spreading.”

“The waste approached 250 feet as multinational laboratories, corporations, and D.O.E. think tanks vying for projects and energy contract extensions discussed glassification options and emergency evacuation procedures according to regulations.

"Scientists read Robert’s Rules Of Order inside the organized chaos of their well order communities. Hanford scientists, wives and their children suffering terminal thyroid disease ate roots and plants sprinkled with entropy.”

The postal worker and the nomad talked over a counter while a frantic mother yelled at her daughter, “DON’T Touch The Stamps” because at her precocious age, curiosity about colors blended itself toward planetary exploration developing her active imagination.

Holding a nebula in his hand he told the woman how, up in the invisible sky, are all these really cool galaxies which means we are a third the life of a 3.5 billion year old universe and she said, "That’s interesting. I never looked at the stamps before." 

Editor's note: originally published in A Century Is Nothing.

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