
Sign up to save your podcasts
Or


April: On Nature
April 4
Today's reflection was inspired by a quote from Bluebeard's Egg by Margaret Atwood.
Something happens inside of us at a certain point, but you can’t hear it or feel it. You don’t even know it’s happening when it does. Somewhere amidst the evolutions of childhood to adolescence to adulthood, a switch is flipped that tells your brain it’s not good to be dirty. Or that being dirty is gross. That it’s unsightly or it will make you sick. That being dirt-free is the standard for which we should strive.
This is a terrible lie.
Humans were born in the dirt. And so it is a terrible switch that has been flipped that tells you to no longer love it, and if I could flip it back down and then break it from the wall of switches in everyone’s mind, I would.
But I would encourage you to just spend time outside. Play in the garden, go barefoot, get on your knees in the grass, in the dirt if you can—you can always wash it off, can’t you?
You can’t always be a child, but for a short time, every once in a while, you can undo what has happened to you at some strange point of growth and learn to love the dirt again—and at the end of the day, you will smell like the child who smells like the dirt.
By Eastin DeVernaApril: On Nature
April 4
Today's reflection was inspired by a quote from Bluebeard's Egg by Margaret Atwood.
Something happens inside of us at a certain point, but you can’t hear it or feel it. You don’t even know it’s happening when it does. Somewhere amidst the evolutions of childhood to adolescence to adulthood, a switch is flipped that tells your brain it’s not good to be dirty. Or that being dirty is gross. That it’s unsightly or it will make you sick. That being dirt-free is the standard for which we should strive.
This is a terrible lie.
Humans were born in the dirt. And so it is a terrible switch that has been flipped that tells you to no longer love it, and if I could flip it back down and then break it from the wall of switches in everyone’s mind, I would.
But I would encourage you to just spend time outside. Play in the garden, go barefoot, get on your knees in the grass, in the dirt if you can—you can always wash it off, can’t you?
You can’t always be a child, but for a short time, every once in a while, you can undo what has happened to you at some strange point of growth and learn to love the dirt again—and at the end of the day, you will smell like the child who smells like the dirt.