Hello,
My name is Nicho,
And welcome to The Hum of the Earth,
A contemplative meditation that invites you into deep stillness,
Where the boundary between the body and earth begins to blur.
Rooted in eco-theology and the sacred language of soil in silence,
This practice will help you remember.
Remember,
You are not resting on earth,
You are a part of it.
So let us begin.
Let the body arrive,
Wherever you are,
Seated,
Lying down,
Supported by the ground or cushion.
Allow gravity to have you.
Let your bones sink,
Let your breath slow,
Let your weight be a kind of prayer.
Feel the pull beneath you,
That gentle downward hum,
That's the voice of the earth remembering your name.
Breathe in,
Breathe out.
The world is not asking you to speak,
Not right now,
It's asking you to listen.
And so,
You listen.
Not with your ears,
But with the skin of your back,
Your legs,
Your belly,
All the places that meet the earth.
The earth does not rush,
It does not hurry to be seen.
Its silence is not emptiness,
But fullness,
Unspoken.
Let yourself match that pace.
Feel how your breath echoes through the hollow spaces in you,
Like wind through rock,
Through root,
Through cavern.
And now,
Imagine the soil beneath you,
Not as dirt,
But as living memory,
Ashes,
Roots,
Generations,
The resting place of rain and seed,
Decay and miracle.
This is holy ground,
Not because we name it so,
But because God was here before we arrived.
Then the Lord God formed the human from dust on the ground and breathed into its nostrils the breath of life.
You are not above this,
You are not separate,
You are the echo of that breath still rising through dust.
Soften your forehead,
Unclench your jaw,
Drop your shoulders and let the body speak in stillness.
Let the earth speak through you.
In this stillness,
You may notice the hum,
Not a sound exactly,
But a vibration,
A knowing,
Like something remembering itself through your bones.
This is not your imagination,
This is communion.
The earth is not beneath you,
It's within you.
You are not resting on something,
You are resting in someone.
And this someone has held rivers,
Forests,
Bones,
Prayers.
This someone has known every grief you carry,
And still it holds you.
Let yourself be held,
Not as a thinker,
Not as a doer,
But as a being.
You are not here to perform stillness,
You are here to become it.
Return to the breath,
Not as a task,
But as a remembering.
Breath as the bridge between earth and spirit,
Dust and divinity.
Let your eyes open softly,
And let your presence return gently,
And carry this stillness with you,
Like a hum just under your skin.
The earth remembers you,
And you now remember her.
Amen.
Live like dust,
Lit by fire.
Thank you for being here.
Nicho.
