When they tell us to touch grass, this is what they mean -
the Earth is therapy for the weary soul. Those who are fitted neatly into convenient air-conditioned boxes must break out from time to time; the body can only take so much artificial light before the spirit suffers. We need to feel the sun ,hear the wind, and watch the grass waving free…
the BumbleBee knows. It clings precariously to its Milkweed raft, pitching on the wild grassy sea; it holds tight to the sweetness of the blossom, even as we should hold tight. We are most alive when we are in touch with the earth, riding the wind…
go touch grass.
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