If the Earth had a voicebox, you’d hear it in the wind, in the kind of ocean front breezes that make you want to sink your toes deeper into the wet sand and stare out at the purple sunset for a just a moment longer. You’d hear it in the cardinals, sparrows, and robins perched throughout the oak trees of the forest in your backyard, where you spent all your summers climbing those branches and finding shelter for hide-and-seek behind their trunks. You’d hear it in the buzzing of each bee floating from tulip to tulip in hopes of collecting the sweetest nectar.
If you looked through the Earth’s speckled eyes, you’d see the luscious greens of rolling hills and plains, the dark and dusty red of majestic canyons, and the dank, black space of mysterious caverns. You’d see the coarse pieces of bright coral hiding beneath the ocean waves, the slick surfaces of rocks embedded into the river bank, the felt-like fabric of each petal of a rose. You’d watch as the leaves changed from brilliant emerald to deep auburn, and then littered the ground before the purest snow made the grandest entrance of all.
If the Earth had a bloodstream, you’d feel it pumping through the soles of your shoes, tunneling through the soft soil and dew-covered grass in the early hours of the morning when you wander out to get the paper. You’d feel her heartbeat gravitate from the equator, spiraling toward the Atlantic and Pacific, making their waves crash heavily upon opposite shores.
We often don’t take the time to enjoy the beauty of the things around us; we are too concerned with concrete jungles, maintaining full-time jobs in skyscraper offices, always expecting bigger and better. Sometimes, all you need is to take a moment to realize all the beauty around you, the simplicity of finding a moment in the shade of the tree, to realize what a beautiful place we inhabit.
“We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children.” – Native American Proverb