What to Remember on Waking (pt. 1)
This is the first in a multi-part series of reflections by Ezekiel Fugate on the world and our place in it. These scattered invitations are meant to serve as directional markers, pointing you toward a way of relating with the world that might do justice to the incredible gift of existence. Let these reminders be exercises that build your capacity to accept this gift and to serve the world in return. Let them guide you through the process of cosmological rehabilitation as you slowly learn the arts of living in a sick society on a damaged planet amidst a vastly creative cosmos. Let them hone your love for the world, which is ultimately the world’s love for itself. Revisit these places often; find new ones. Gradually, you will come to more fully inhabit the living terrain that is only outlined in faint strokes through the map of these words.
What to Remember on Waking (pt. 1)
What to remember on waking: Your life is a gift. The breath in your lungs, the blood in your belly, the first sliver of sunshine that strokes your eye—all of these are gifts from the world to you. You do not will your lungs to cycle your breath; you do not force your blood to pulse through your body. You are the glorious achievement of a beneficent world that conspires to draw you deeper into its depths. The first breath that daily comes pouring into your body is a sacrament that marks your inseparability from all that is. The world is breathing you, filling you with the gift of life. The first sip of water that daily rolls down your throat stitches you to the rain, the river, and the sea, making your body a reservoir no less mysterious than the great underground aquifers. The first bite of food that you daily take into your body places you as a node on a map that charts the never ending journey of bodies becoming bodies. The first sight of your children before they rouse sharpens your awareness that life is fragile and fleeting and precious. The world asks you to turn toward this gift and receive it fully.
