“Oh, to realize space! The plenteousness of all, that there are no bounds. To emerge and be of the sky, of the sun, the moon and flying clouds as one with them. “
— A Song of Joys by Walt Whitman
You can find me where the forested land ends and where the Great Plains begin. You can find me in the heart of the United States. My name is prairyearth, an old geological name for prairie soil.
Before my grassland expanse there was an ocean. When the waters receded limestone, shale and flint from the ancient sea floor remained and are still not far under my soil.
Diversity abounds. Big bluestem, little bluestem, Indiangrass grow from deep roots, break through soil and intermingle with countless plants and grasses. Dark oceans of buffalo trampled me for millennia spreading seeds and fertilizing. I am a wide-open space where life flourishes, horizons captivate. I survive calamity, relentless change and the grasp of people who want to use me solely for their own benefit.
Walk with me. Be still with me. Meander. Learn from me and love me. People can find what they are seeking here – the God some place their faith in is also found in me.
My lively spirit can stay bottled up inside people even when they feel it stirring.
You can join me in the soft stillness at sunset, the always moving grasses, friendly clouds that invite you to jump up and touch them, as well as in surprising storms and wild winds.
Allow yourself to see me with eyes that awaken your soul. We are planetary companions. We have a deep connection, prairie soul to human soul – where the earth path meets the sky path.
Breathe with me, fill yourself with my presence. Listen. Hear the song that I sing for you.
When you release yourself from the pursuit of getting and spending and work with me for the mutual benefit of all life – the voices that emerge among you become a new kind of people power, a “demo-kratia” – people using their power as it was meant to be used.
Care for me, pay attention to me, love me. Then, you will hear my love song sung for you and it will strengthen you.
Listen to poets’ voices like William Quayle’s and Walt Whitman’s. Create new ways to share your inspiration. Put aside ego-concerns. Trusting grass-ocean winds, let’s “let her rip” and let’s ride together. With centerboard down and under full sail, fly with me on prairyearth’s love that moves in all that is.
We are free. We exalt and we work. We are silent. We breathe as one, infused with a divine force of greening and growing together.