There are days I need to lie on the ground and let go. No mother can soothe me like the mountain. We seek words and wisdom when only silence will do. The answers will whisper themselves to us like a lullaby in the wind.
I am there with my belly on the earth, my tears drip down likes pearls of rain, a gentle shower, moistening the rich earth below me, connecting me further to the damp ground. I sink in and take root and spread across the mountains like the core of the aspen. For a moment, we are one.
The pungent scent of rotting leaves is perfume, intense and overwhelming, subduing the fears that brought me here. I allow myself to be embraced by the sun and the wind and the dried grasses blowing around me like faded prayer flags long forgotten. I let go and sink further into the last of the warmth of the day exuding from the fertile loam beneath me, or perhaps now, part of me. My flesh is the leaves and bones the branches as I merge into the ground and fade away.