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In this time of ecological unravelling, we must tend the ecology of our inner worlds. We can gather together at the edges, witnessing our grief, practicing "not knowing together, weaving our imaginations back into relationship with a Living Earth.
When we come to the edge of what we know how to "make happen," we have reached the place where deeper forms of agency reside.
The edges are the places of power the culture has exiled. Lingering here are the parts of ourselves we pushed away, our:
A vast grief waits for us there, in those unwitnessed edges of ourselves.
A grief so old it doesn’t have a name.
We can re-member the ancestral knowledge of lamenting, calling the fragmented parts of ourselves back into belonging, expanding our imaginations beyond the edges of our stories.
We can gather at the edges,
practicing "not knowing together,"
beginning to weave ourselves back in.
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