Rooted in the Underworld
To be grounded. To have purchase under our feet. Steadied. Stable. To do any of the above, one must learn to become rooted in one's underworld. But what does this mean? It means to become familiar with things that go bump in the night. More specifically: things that go bump in the dark corners of our psyche. I grew up on an apple orchard. As a child, I would play outside all day long. The sun, the earth, the sky became my friends. I watched the orchard flower in spring and bury my face into boughs of blossoms, taking in the voluptuous scent as bees hovered, my feet muddied. Fruiting time meant small musket balls too sour to eat, then watching them weigh down branches as they gained weight and sweetness. Fall was crisping leaves, browning fruit, dropping into the muck of earth and inviting circles of spinning insects. Winter. Cold. White. Ice. Trees that appeared dead. No leaves, no blossoms, no fruit. Just lanky limbs the color of pewter. All along, t...
