We Traveled Far

We have traveled far to get here. Through womb, over oceans, flying through countless astral skies in the night, forging our dreams into reality. It’s been a long ride. So, we should honor ourselves for being here.

I met a man in Downtown Charlottesville not long ago, soon after coming back from an almost month-long trip to Sweden. Michael and I were on a Virginia tour with gorgeous Maureen J. St. Germain and had a couple of in-between hours to catch our breath. Michael took a nap in our van – which he has this otherworldly capacity to do at any time – and I wandered the streets, catching my breath my own way, by just landing in the middle of it all and watching what will come by. What came by was a man by the name of Sirius. He politely asked if he could sit down beside me on one of the outside chairs and I said yes. Turned out that Sirius had four bullet wounds on the inside of his left leg, and three on his right hip. At this moment in time he was homeless and was still waiting for his pension. We talked about war. Sirius was brave and strangely without bitterness. After a bit there wasn’t too much to say but the general, “But, you’re still here.” He turned to me and answered with a certain level of emphasis, “Yes, I’m still here.”

There we are. However far we traveled, however many war-wounds we have, we’re still here, and that is quite an accomplishment in itself. I ended up buying Sirius breakfast in the closest coffee shop. Not out of the goodness of my heart, mind you, but because he was a gift to me. It’s a curious thing, but through my life, whenever I’m tired and wonder where I am in life, someone, usually someone whose living on the streets, and is far worse off than I am, comes by and gives me perspective. I call them my personal gods. I hope you know that any homeless, battered person is most likely a god in disguise. So, treat them well.

And while you’re at it, treat your family, friends and anyone you meet kindly as well. You never know how long they will stick around, or exactly what they have endured to get here. At this moment in time, we’re all either very strong, or very lucky to have made it all the way to this Earth, in all her glory. We’re probably both. And we are all, oh-so-vulnerable. Nothing is to be taken for granted. And nothing is safe. If it was, it wouldn’t be life.

The Echo World celebrates late autumn with a low-key, but heart-felt November issue. Ellen Luksch writes about the difficult art of not making assumptions in her article “The Third Agreement,” LaQuinn writes about the art of smiling and yawning (in the right way). Majjsan Maria Kindgren writes about “The Sadness of Being a Pot Plant,” and our very own amazing medium Linnea Star writes about the spiritual essence of plants. In the Cuisine Section you get access to the most healthy, earthy recipes and health tips. But also, reflections on herbalism and requests from the Earth to communicate. We also have beautiful poems in the Poetry Section, and a quite interesting mix of reviews in our Review Section - among many other things.

We have traveled far to get here. Through womb, over oceans, flying through countless astral skies in the night, forging our dreams into reality. It’s been a long ride. The Echo World changes with the seasons but remains at its core the same. This time of year we’re earthy, we reflect and we’re thankful to be able to do what we do. We hope to do more, but we don’t stress. We remember to call our family instead of making grand plans. We’re here. That is a great feat. Thank you for reading. Honor yourself and your personal hero’s journey. Be kind. And most of all, allow the late autumn calmness to embrace itself around you like a blanket that smells of wet leaves, mushrooms and the very sweetness of life. Remember you are part of this Earth. Treat her well. Treat yourself well. Treat your fellow beings well. Make an autumn prayer. As you go, here’s one you can use if you wish (or use one of your own):

I thank you for being here. I thank myself for being here. I thank the Earth for allowing me to. It’s time to see the sacred in everything.

I wish you happy traveling on your upcoming adventures, and happy reading at this moment.

This editorial was first published in the November issue of The Echo World.