2Today for the first time since last fall, the ground receives my feet and holds on to them. It pleases me to feel the earth yield after being frozen solid all winter. Then the words Mother and Earth rise up in me. Mother Earth. Mother Earth, I say again. The earth is soft and warm. My mother was soft and warm. I remember how my Navajo friends explained to me that the earth was our mother and the sky our father. And we must never forget that they hold us in their embrace. I stand a little longer and inhale the sweet spring breath of the earth. Slowly the aloneness drains out of me. There in that space, I feel a tugging, strong and urgent to the meadows and streams, the moon and the stars, the ocean and the mountains of this place I now call home.

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