Let's go on a trip... and meet God
My quest for a reason to live + Why all lands are holy
The last few years I’ve made massive changes in my life to be more politically embodied. I’ve undertaken the often painful & also liberating journey of personal abolition which much like the political process of abolition has required me to slowly dismantle the capitalist/ colonial parts of me, decolonize and simultaneously explore in community & build myself back up from the ashes. There was no precise starting point & there isn’t an endpoint when I’ll just “know” everything or effortlessly frolic thru life— I think there is no joy without grief & there is no pleasure without pain. I’m cultivating chosen family, learning to hold complexity, existing more as a non-binary, complex, eternally fluid, uncategorizable being, embracing ego deaths & transformation-related discomfort. But still… SOMETHING IS MISSING. There is a deep void in me that nothing has been able to fill.
To even begin to identify what this void was, I had to accept that I wanted to die in a world with systems designed to isolate, exploit & kill us all slowly. I had to stop running from the big, terrifying, existential questions & face them. Once I accepted that I didn’t want to live, I was able to truly, genuinely ask what we ALL NEED to live. Today, I’ll share some answers to the “Why am I here? What is the point of life?” blackhole of questions that came to me on a recent ceremonial “trip” I took aided by sacred mushrooms. This might be one of my biggest “AHA!” moments yet (until the next one at least).
On facing the void & searching for reasons to live
Alright, back to this terrifying VOID. I’m trying my best to survive but time & time again, I’ve realized that I’m missing something critical like food or water that I need to stay alive. I think many of us are? Being starved of this survival necessity has left an agonizing hole in me, a throbbing, aching raw wound with blood gushing out and nothing thus far can seem to heal it. I’m scared. I’m afraid because how long can I keep pushing on with this mysterious, elusive, wounded abyss expanding within me? I am an injured, tormented plant that was ripped out of its native soil, tossed around, submerged in hostile conditions & discarded on foreign lands. This plant is seeking, aching, yearning, thirsting, screaming for HOME. However, without a real memory to know what home even means, the plant simply feels the absence of something that it desperately needs to stay alive.
My work is dedicated to understanding the BIG picture- the sociopolitical context of our pain/ health issues/ suffering. Still… I wasn’t zooming OUT & thinking BIG enough. I was socialized to see the world in binaries or observe a problem within a vacuum & try to understand everything by quantifying it. Recently, I’ve intentionally tried to observe the world not to dissect it for my self-enlightenment or use it as a coping mechanism or “study it” like a colonizer but to honor it, learn how to better serve it, value it for merely existing & accept the limitations of my simple, tiny mind in the face of the vastness of the grand magic that is the universe. Only recently have I delved into the unknown with equal parts curiosity, humility, respect & gratitude.
So let’s take a trip… and face the abyss together.
P.S. Thank you to the kind souls that pay to support this newsletter, it exists because of you. If you’re not yet & are able to—
The trip— aided by fungi from the Malabar Coast
We’re nested away in a rural cottage in the Great Smokey Mountains. I had to drive on the “tail of the dragon” to get here- a serpentine stretch of mountainous roads with 318 sharp curves in just 11 miles. With no cell signal & spotty wifi, we’re grateful to have the time & space to dive into sacred rituals. Serendipity led me to finally find a revered Mushroom strain that originally comes from the Malabar Coast— the exact region of South India that birthed me. It’ll soon be clear to you why it is beautiful that these precise fungal kin guided me to the realizations I had.
1:30 PM- My body always tries to fight it. Terrified of losing control, it clings to the reality we know— shaped by burdensome responsibilities, bills, deadlines, insecurities, fears, trauma. I claim to “feel nothing yet” and turn to see Ciro (my partner) uncontrollably giggling, staring at the ceiling of our cabin with a gigantic jolly smile, overcome with sudden outbursts of laughter. I briefly close my eyes, whisper to myself “you’re okay”, nudge him & ask “I want to laugh, what are you laughing at?” He pulls me closer and says “I can’t help it. I don’t know. I’m just happy. The ‘shroomsies’ are flowing through my veins & communicating their joy thru me.” Retrospectively, Ciro says at that moment, I looked like a grey sky- emotionless with strained, glazed over eyes, aloof… gone. He felt guilty for experiencing joy while I was having a much more somber experience. We were clearly in two very different realms. Misaligned.
1:45 PM- A wave of sensory overwhelm takes over me and I sink deeper & deeper into the couch. Everything around me begins to vibrate, undulate, expand, contract, overlap, swim & vividly come to life. Sounds get louder- I can hear the rapids from the river outside crashing against jagged rocks a mile away. I’m overcome with an urge to sleep. As an overly-energetic, hyper-active being, in general I struggle to slow down, rest or sleep naturally so a sudden compulsion to slumber like this is my body’s response to overwhelm or a sign of sickness & burnout. My body is hoping we can just make all of this go away, sleep it off, a momentary death if you will & awaken to regain some semblance of control. In the background, I can sense the burdens of capitalism, my responsibilities hovering over me like a dark, unpredictable, smothering cloud. I want to experience more but I suppress the sadness boiling up inside. My body does not want to let go.
2:15 PM- We’re lying in bed covered in 4 layers of blankets. I close my eyes & my eyelids transform to serving as a backdrop for thousands of colorful, kaleidoscope patterns. Oooook, so I can’t rest. Once I accept that, I’m overpowered by an invisible crushing boulder on my chest & my stomach sinks into a hollow pit. Sadness. Sorrow. “What am I even sad about?” Disappointment. Grief. “What am I even mourning?” I claw my way back from my emotional blackhole towards Ciro and ask him to talk me through what he is experiencing, hoping that I can envision the magic he is witnessing & vicariously be jolted out of my misery. My body desired a silver lining in the form of Ciro giving me a metaphysical piggyback ride into a “happy trip”.
This is not new. All our “trips” together began very misaligned. Ciro starts off in a very bright, euphoric place & I start in a very lonely, desolate, fearful, confused, disjointed place. Ciro’s body dives in & embraces the rollercoaster but ironically I, the adrenaline junkie, hesitate & nervously stumble around, desperate to tether myself to something. When Ciro sees something odd, he curiously stares into the mystery further as I nervously glance away, terrified by the unfamiliar unknown. Excited, he attempts to share what he is experiencing with me. “I wish I could take away some of that load that you always carry on your back” he says sympathetically. I look up and say “Don’t feel guilty about your happiness right now. It’s okay. I might need to traverse my own path.” He holds my face as we silently acknowledge my inner battles.
3:00 PM- Ciro described to me the animated panoramic scenes that were manifesting before him- the sensational colors & the minuscule details that weren’t previously visible to his naked eye. I felt brief contentment seeing him draw inspiration from all the magic he saw & felt. He told me two animals had emerged before him that were visual representations of our love- the head of a white cat with a face tattoo of sprawling olive branches that spiraled into a tornado-like vortex of dazzling crystals. As he peered closer, the crystals seemed to move as a single, breathing organism (maybe a merging of our bodies) that was expanding & contracting peacefully like lungs reinvigorated with fresh air. Next, he saw a horse made of light purple bioluminescent light galloping serenely through a prairie but when he looked closer, it also had a punk-mane made of erratically blowing rainbow-colored hair that rustled at the rhythm of the chaotic wind. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he said “This love feels steady, stable… but with many moments of clownery & wildness, intense yet fluidly adaptable, and soft yet resilient. I feel like I’m home… with you wherever we are. I hope I can be something like that to you.” And those words were my undoing.
4:00 PM (roughly…) I was holding an ocean in me till then but the word “home” ripped thru me, unleashing a flood of tears & anguish-laced howls. I was holding back my grief, ashamed that I could not adequately reciprocate Ciro’s energy & guilty that I could not float down the river WITH him. I felt like a sad onlooker witnessing his joy, but unable to comprehend it or unwilling to let it dissipate thru me. There was a massive rock in my throat made of the crystalized salty tears that I had tried to swallow back. My entire body started quivering & trembling as I cried & wailed in sorrow… not as adult me but as a wounded child deep within me. These drops of despair had pooled over a lifetime of me feeling un-mothered (un-parented), unloved, unwanted, abandoned. Ciro held & reassured me… “let it out, it’s okay”… even though he was confused. While he felt uncontrollable euphoria, I felt uncontrollable sadness. I tried to hold it all in.
& here I was… a child aching, hurting, convulsing from the stinging zaps of pain traveling through by body. When I could finally mouth some words, I bellowed out “I miss home!!! I want to go back. I need to go back. I’ve searched for so long but I don’t think any single person or place can be that for me. Home is something greater… more complex & vast.” Then for ~two hours, I spewed out many epiphanies that were seeds that had been germinating within me for years that I could finally acknowledge, hold & carry out into the physical world.
I’ll list the realizations below but first… an Intermission— let’s rewind a bit. Where am I from? It’s complicated. My passport says Indian but made-up borders don’t capture my roots. My dearest origins lie in the Malabar Coast, part of the state of Karnataka in South India. The Malabar Coast is an ecologically distinct region interlocked between the Western Ghats (a dense, forest-laden mountain range older than the Himalayas) on the East and the Arabian Sea, part of the Indian Ocean on the West. The lush mountains intercept heavy monsoon rains making this rainforest coast the wettest region in the South & home to India’s largest biodiversity. My Dad’s island village, Bengre, sits at the base of the rain-fed Swarna river which starts at the foothills of the Western Ghats, flows through paddy fields & coconut plantations providing water to many villages before it finally collides with & pours into the Arabian Sea. Here lies Bengre- an estuary where the freshwater river meets & hugs the saline ocean. One drivable road cuts thru our village but other that it remains an abundant, thick jungle that has resisted much of the state’s industrialization efforts. Home to native tribes & ancient forest communities, these complex habitats were initially inaccessible to many opportunists. The British Raj was the first to launch large-scale deforestation & poaching projects, slash down mighty evergreens, tear open the Earth to make way for mineral excavations and timber, coffee, tea & teak plantations. Local communities, comprised of all the people, flora, fauna & microbes of the region, are stewards of the lands & waters of the Western Ghats/ Malabar Coast. They continue to be displaced & subject to violence & they continue to exist. Their existence itself is resistance.
Here are some of the epiphanies that I ranted out to my startled, wide-eyed partner thru muffled snobs with snot rolling down my nose (most of which likely slid into my mouth). The quotes are words I literally said in the moment to Ciro.
Land is sacred: “That land. To ME, there is something indescribably special about that land, Ciro. There are a million threads that shoot out from me, cross oceans & connect me to different parts of the Deccan plateau, tether me to the lush Western Ghats, the coast, the Swarna river bed AND the ocean bed it collides with. These threads… are f**kin real and so many systems have tried to sever this connection I have to that land.”
In recent years, I’ve realized our basic survival needs extend beyond food, water, shelter. We need love in reciprocal, equitable relationships to survive & thrive just as much as we need food. Without the latter, we may starve fast but without the former, we face a slow, prolonged, lonely death. Isolation kills. Interdependence is the fabric of life itself. BUT I wasn’t thinking BIG enough.
We don’t just NEED relationships with people, we need to be entangled in an intricate web of ecologically intimate relationships with other non-human life forms & the entire land itself. Colonialism/ capitalism have tried to separate humans from nature & sever our bonds with the wild. We live & work in cement boxes, nourish ourselves with packaged products picked from corporate aisles. The land is commodified & objectified so that it can be dominated. People, animals, plants, the entire Earth itself are merely seen as raw materials that can be exploited for profit. No wonder we are sick. Our modern health crises- from COVID-19 to more abstract pandemics of depression, anxiety & all forms of physical/ mental/ emotional/ spiritual distress, all stem from our disconnection to land.
Mother-lands: “This gaping wound in me… the best I can I describe it is that I really MISS MY MOTHER! But my mama is NOT a person. It’s so much more. Our ORIGINAL caregivers are the lands that birthed us! So my mother is the Malabar Coast- the ecosystem that birthed me & created all the nutrients needed to breathe life into me. But the humans that tended to me were only 1 PART of it all & NONE could have served the role of Mother Earth for me. It’s sad that human parents even try to fill these big shoes! My mother-lands created all the particles, molecules & atoms woven together to make me. The air, the water, nutrient-laced fertile soil, the flora & fauna, what they eat, everything… collectively birthed me. It’s that LIFE FORCE that gave rise to me & all the plants, animals & microbes on the Malabar Coast who are my kin. We share a mother. This is the thing I’ve been missing- I need an intentional connection to my lands to survive…”
Our ecological severance from nature is killing us slowly. Capitalism has assaulted, dishonored & defiled our connection to land, depriving it of the honor & dignity it deserves. Just like human connection is actively sought after, built & intentionally fostered, not stumbled upon, our connection to land + everything on it must be sacredly pursued, forged & sustained. The threads between me & my mother are weak, strained, but they still tug at me.
When I say “we need each other”, I don’t just mean people, I mean we need all our kin to thrive. Each life form consumes another to sustain itself & in doing so sustains many others. The food we eat is holy- it gives us life until our dying breath and then our remains go on to sustain other plants, animals & microbes. The cycle of life is sacred. My ancestors have been saying this for eons. Indigenous people still steward holy lands thru these beliefs. I heard it but only recently have I begun to truly comprehend it.
The land is alive and is the ultimate model of reciprocity & compassion: “People always look to people for inspiration… to figure out how to create equity or reciprocity & practice generosity but we’re forgetting that the land is f**king generous as hell. My mother-lands have given & given & given and are hurt from all the people who have abandoned them in a quest for stability on foreign lands. But still the land doesn’t hold grudges- it is waiting to warmly welcome our return. The land can sustain us endlessly but it is not being cared for as it should be!”
The land has been exploited for centuries but thru that pain, it continues to give boundlessly— this is just an inkling of what generosity looks like in practice. Reciprocity is embodied in nature’s cycles all around us. The Earth is alive. The soil, rocks, rivers, oceans.. they all make up the fabric of life. The land cares & loves unconditionally, gives selflessly.
The land also aches as each corporate fossil fuel pipeline is carved thru the Earth’s crust, as tankers pour oil into the ocean & as each rainforest is wiped out. Our lands experience the combined pain of all communities that have ever been decimated & violated upon them. The land’s pain is unfathomable & incomprehensible to the mind of any single being. But I do not need to comprehend it all to know it ripples thru me too. Intergenerational trauma I called it… but still I wasn’t thinking BIG enough & just thinking of humans.
Refugees in the diaspora ripped from our mothers: “Mother-lands have been robbed of their children that they have poured so much care into birthing. But so many of us were displaced and needed to escape to other lands with no plans to look back or just visit as tourists stamping on the womb we came from. What we didn’t realize early on is that this connection can never be broken! But there is so much pain on BOTH sides. The first thing I need to do when I get back to Bengre is thrust my hands deep into the soil, submerge myself under the coastal waters, embrace the trunks of our coconut palms and… mourn, grieve, beg for forgiveness. I owe my lands an apology not because I’m afraid of them but to acknowledge the pain they’ve carried for so long- the agony of separation from their children.”
I directly want to speak to the land, not just to the people on it. I have disrespected them & neglected their life-giving role as my grand caregivers. We hurt… as do our mother-lands. We yearn for each other. Yet, so many variables are beyond our control that prevent us from alleviating this mutual heartbreak.
I’ve written repeatedly about how we’re meant to be raised by a village of many people & not by 1 or 2 people who we’re chained to. But I don’t think we’re just meant to be raised by people. We’re meant to be raised by our land, by our expansive ecosystems. Human caregivers are just 1 part of the complex community that we need. They may forage for food, collect the materials needed to build shelter, provide us with medicines when we’re ill but where do these fundamental resources come from? Who really generates the nutrients that sustain us? Our lands are not inanimate objects that merely exist beneath us, we exist BECAUSE of them. It is an injustice to thrust this role onto 1 or 2 humans. There is so much discontentment & suffering from these reductions- our survival needs are more vast than we’ve been led to believe. We may not KNOW right away if we’ve never had these sacred connections but deep down… we’ve all felt the void.
Foreign foster-lands as caregivers for migrants: “I’ve also disrespected the many distant unfamiliar lands that have fostered me. & I’m not talking about a country or state government, but the actual live-giving lands, the Earth, waters & winds that have provided for me & given me refuge as a migrant. I’ve grown up on so many different nonnative lands that have tried their best to keep me alive & show me that home isn’t just a single ecosystem for us displaced children in the diaspora. All our ecosystems are connected & woven together to make this planet. I can touch the soil right now & reach all the way to my mother-lands thru the land below me.”
In response Ciro reminded me that I didn’t just build love with him in Chile, I built an intimate relationship with the Andes mountains, the Patagonian fjords, the Pacific ocean, the Atacama desert & all the beings I crossed paths with on those lands that were originally stewarded by the indigenous Mapuche & Pehuenche peoples. When we were at Ciro’s grandma’s mountain cottage in Recinto, I felt something sacred in the air, the rain, the glacier streams running down from the Andes. I felt rooted. But I attributed the transformative effect merely to the small town people & omitted the mountains towering over me. It was all right there, STARING ME in the face & I still missed it. We live in a aching world full of migrants- most of us are inevitably connected to nonnative lands. So we have a grave responsibility to mobilize towards better stewarding & honoring these lands.
We left India when I was young & I spent my childhood bouncing between different lands as we sought stability. I spent most of my life in the Persian gulf, in the so-called Middle East & North African deserts. I came to the U.S. at 17 & lived in Chile for a year recently. When I’ve trekked across these diverse lands, I’ve felt their… pain, the anguish of the land itself. I had no words to describe it at the time.
When the land hurts, we hurt. As we yearn for them, they yearn for us. “What was I thinking? How could I chase a “better” life on foreign lands by abandoning the lands that birthed me no matter how desecrated or ravaged they may have been? If they were burned, I should have burned with them.”
All the lands that have been colonized- from Turtle Island to Palestine… will be free because they are divine. I know many people cannot return to their mother-lands within their lifetime or the land no longer resembles the sacred home that once was. But our lands have SOULS & they know. They remember. Our lands sense our gratitude, reverence & respect from afar- with each traditional meal prepared, every prayer, cultural ritual, community gathering, the threads tethering us to our lands are strengthened. Our bonds with our lands, our parents are eternal. They sense our nostalgia, our resistance from afar. They hold the past, present & future. I may never be fully “healthy” as my mother-land is drilled into & extracted from— & maybe that is okay because I may also feel the magic & divine joy of every violet Gurige flower that blooms once every 12 years in the Nilgiri Mountains. Maybe I need to learn to carry that complexity.
6:30 PM I jolt out of bed, throw on a jacket, grab Ciro’s hand and drag him out the door, to the back of the cabin. We stood outside, surrounded by tall, leafless winter oak & pine trees that swayed with the frigid sub-zero winds. A river stream flowed with ferocity before us cutting through sheets of ice & clambering over uneven rocks. “Look up! Just look at it! It’s all right there!” I said as we collapsed onto piles of crispy, frosted leaves and gazed up at the cosmos. The black sky was decorated with thousands of sparkling, glowing, fiery dots & if I squinted I saw deep sky objects, vibrant vivid purples/ reds/ blues.
“Here, with less light pollution, there are more stars in the sky than blotches of dark space itself! It’s close… so similar to the sky in Bengre!” I then yanked him over to the edge of the stream. “Do you hear that? The water swishing & crashing? The wind rustling thru branches? It’s the sound of life!” And then I gasped- this final revelation hit me, swallowed me whole as my breath accelerated, my heart throttled harder & I fell onto my knees. In that moment, I had more clarity about my faith & spiritual convictions than I ever had before.
“Ciro, the land isn’t just my mother… it’s the divine. It’s the immortal creator! The land is my God or Goddess or whatever non-binary, all-encompassing, universal life force you wanna call it! But that’s the thing, that’s the WHOLE point!”
Ok INTERMISSION— let’s rewind one last time. I was born in an impoverished rural district of Bangalore, India in very convoluted social conditions into a mixed family with seemingly oppositional beliefs. My Afro-Indian father, the first kid in his family line to get any formal education, is a tribal descendant of the African Bantu peoples who were violently brought over to India as slaves by the Portuguese empire and a descendant of the indigenous Adivasi people. My paternal lineage carries two primary religions- Hinduism & Pagan Animism. My South Asian Muslim mother is of Persian and Levantine descent carrying plenty of intergenerational trauma from the forced displacement of the Muslim community during the partition of India/Pakistan layered with the burden of our great grandparents that resisted British colonial rule. “Biracial” or “mixed” doesn’t encapsulate the complexity of the diverse ancestral, ethnic, religious bearings that have collided to make me.
My upbringing was confusing & convoluted. I was raised Muslim & initially forced to reject my Hindu & Pagan ancestry entirely. Even when I intentionally chose to embody Islam in ways that made sense to me or dove into the political aspects of my religious identities surrounded by a more complex, welcoming community, I still felt limited. I was forced to choose one over the other by people who weren’t fully aware of just how much oppressive systems contorted & leveraged religion for domination. The beliefs shoved down my throat spoke of an egotistical, power-hungry, narcissistic, domineering, threatening, punitive, transactional, ruthless disguised as merciful, arrogant God that commands, discards, damns & hurts. I may be wrong… but I yearned for more.
I’ve openly shared many aspects of my life with you— but I withheld the faith & spiritual realms within me because it’s taken me years to question, explore, decipher & imagine beyond my confines. I’ve had to work thru a lot of religious trauma to even begin to re-create a healthier relationship with spirituality.
6:50 PM— I began to laugh and sob out loud, oscillating between joy, grief, relief, & sorrow. “Ciro! I finally somewhat get it! I think deep inside me I now understand why my great great forefathers & my paternal grandmother pray TO the land. Our God is not ruthless, our land is caring, giving, loving & it will continue to do that no matter how we may act. It also needs to be cared for. My health, our health is tied to the health of our lands, our God. We take care of the divine land that takes care of us- IT’S A RECIPROCAL RELATIONSHIP!!! There IS NO hierarchy of domination. But there is respect, honor, & immeasurable gratitude. There are consequences though- oppressive systems have exploited the divine. The land is not immune to damage but it isn’t inanimate & agency-less either, it has fought back. That’s how we’re still here. I’m not afraid of the land & the oceans. I also get what the oneness of God means, the singularity is embodied in the multitudes… just like Earth is a living being comprised of many living ecosystems including the rocks, soil & waters within them! I get what Islam means by omnipresence- land is everywhere! The divine is all around us!”
I don’t think I’m meant to choose. I’m now able to carry & embody many monotheistic & polytheistic religious beliefs by merging them. There has to be a way to live in the grey area rather than force ourselves to fit the impossible binary of white or black. I will never know most of what this universe is & don’t have to understand it all. I’m open to receiving more teachings from the universe. The only way I can do my tiny bit to combat ecological destruction— is by embracing the lands divinity, the godliness of flora, fauna & microbes, AND the people that steward the land. The land has birthed so many beings & so I see God in my people, in all their messiness— I see divinity. There is only 1 God as in there is 1 life force surging thru us all, connecting us all. However, I also get that within the singularity there is something distinct about rivers & their divine role compared to the trees & the divine place they hold. It’s similar to the concept of collectivism— we are one but we are stronger in our diverse multitudes. I think I’ve been born into this conundrum for a reason- I choose to believe that it is because I’m meant to hold multiple ancestral lineages, spiritual realms, many faiths, traditions & cultural values.
7:00 PM- I was out by the stream alone now. Ciro was inside. I wanted to stay back and talk to the ground beneath me, the water flowing before me, the trees grounded beside me & the vast heavenly outer space above me. I touched them, I closed my eyes & listened to them — because the land communicates to us in more complex ways than we can fathom. Human language isn’t the only form of communication. We already know our senses capture information that supersedes our awareness. Body language, art, music, dance — all modes of communication. I believe the invisible threads tethering us to the land & to the sky allow for us to give & receive, to communicate. Gravity is an invisible but very real, influential force that transcends time & space, as does love, care & compassion.
Everyday I will gather, adapt, practice & fine tune rituals that blend the many traditions passed-down, handed-over & taught to me… to honor the sacred force that flows through the land & all of its animals, plants, rivers, weather & seasonal cycles, other planets & stars. I get why my paternal grandma, my Ajji feeds the land, performs daily pooja (worship) to Prithvi (Goddess Mother Earth) & why my maternal grandma, my Ammi prays 5 times a day, touching her forehead to the ground. There is no distinction to me between the physical world & the spiritual world. It’s not just humans or select mammals that are sentient… it’s plants, microbes, mountains, tectonic plates, volcanoes, deep ocean trenches, coral reef, & everything in between.
You don’t have to have the same realizations I did to translate all these gems into praxis. My spirituality shapes my daily life & guides my actions, choices & will hopefully allow me to show up better for my community— ALL OF THEM.
*Deep breath & a relieving exhale* I don’t have to pick. I don’t have to abandon any of my ancestors. How cool is it that I can touch my God, feel the tangible presence of my God, talk to my God, laugh with my God, hold my God, sow seeds in my God, water my God, eat morsels of my God…. honestly, this is all preeeetty damn cool. For now, these are some revelations that keep me tethered to life. & have kindled a desire in me to reconnect with the land using whatever little agency I have now that I did not as a child. This is my commitment to DE-migrate & rebuild an intentional, more reciprocal relationship with all lands.
Everything the land harbors & creates is divine. So yes, I see God in you, too.
Ayesha | ಆಯಿಷಾ | عائشة | आयशा