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“No matter how much you run, or fly or swim, you come back to the land. It’s like as if whatever mud is made up of, it is all beautifully transformed from the seeds that die to begin in the roots, from the roots that expand to grow into a trunk, from a trunk that stretches into branches and from branches that sprout leaves which birth stories before returning to honor the soil once again—just like your body will one day rest for a time in the garden of the Earth—knowing that there will be more stories by others who will follow set paths to find their own.” — Reena Doss
No matter how much you run, or fly or swim, you come back to the land. It’s like as if whatever mud is made up of, it is all beautifully transformed from the seeds that die to begin in the roots, from the roots that expand to grow into a trunk, from a trunk that stretches into branches and from branches that sprout leaves which birth stories before returning to honor the soil once again—just like your body will one day rest for a time in the garden of the Earth—knowing that there will be more stories by others who will follow set paths to find their own.