Song of the Week

Listen to this song as you read to help open you up.

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2025, a little reflection. What would it look like to turn towards 2026 with love? I’m trying to look at everything that is happening, as if everything that is, is because of exactly what has happened before it, and taking it from there. If we had more deeply examined and healed from Japanese internment/concentration camps in the U.S. and the intersections with genocide of indigenous peoples, whiteness/blackness and slavery in the U.S., the Israel/U.S./Britain’s genocide in Palestine, we would not be here. Alas, we didn’t do that as a nation. So here we are, in the now. If you didn’t make amends in the past, the next best time is now. The cool thing about amends, is that even if you don’t make them, the land will make them for you. Eventually. Here’s some words about that.

3025, in 1000 years, I see the world on the mend. The trees are growing back. The mangroves have protected the fish and prevented the erosion in some places— giving those areas a head start in addition to offering hope to other lands that are just starting to heal. The volcanos of Hawai’i are hard at work building new lands. Even as I write this, the land is growing, and they are not for hotels and resorts. They are places of rescue. Refuge. For starting again. Like, Puʻuhonua o Hōnaunau, but all over the world. Starting again with the rumor of a breath. A rumor of rest. The rest and the more dancing, that is to come. Not that all wars will be over.

Wounds, people will always cling to those until they find a more whole way of being. We know it sometimes takes lifetimes to discern the true joy that comes from unconditional love, versus the disconnected joy we experience from feeling the exquisite pain of false-knowing. The kind of false-knowing that gives us comfort about about feeling exceptional, righteous, and superior, but ultimately causes unnecessary suffering, death, and destruction.

In 1000 years the mega-highways are in disrepair. Replaced by reasonably shaped paths, the kind that are human sized and thoughtful. We let children write their names in the cement before it hardens, we let the hills be hills, and the forests, forest. Roads are made for those who can’t walk and get tired easily, roads that are made for true connection. Metaphors become less of a stretch of the imagination.

In 1000 years there are so many hands that learn to pick the insects off the greenest smelling vegetables. Vegetables we eat! Eat with our hands that perpetually have a little soil under our fingernails. Our food will come from the dead. We’ll bury our dead the way we want to, covered in flowers and serenaded by bugs and frogs each night. Their bodies decompose to give us new soil. Soil that we worship and know we one day will also return to. The lightening bugs come back in droves and give the dead quite the show, of shimmering pulsing orchestrated raves at night. We all see the milky way again, no matter where we live. New stories, take shape explaining what happened. Shaken by the inevitable wisdom of the land, that all things come and go, and that all lies fall apart in time. Time is the most honest truth-teller. I wonder what the cicadas and magnetic being of the earth, are telling their children now? What does hope feel like in their bodies? Is it at all similiar to what it feels like in mine?

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OTR/L, BA, MHP, LMT,
she/they) Integrative Therapies

I offer individuals and couples trauma informed somatic therapy/coaching, craniosacral therapy, Swedish massage, Thai bodywork, myofascial release, group workshops, and healing through art, play, and connecting to nature. Free 15 minute consultations can be booked on my website if you’re intrigued or have questions.

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xoxo Eiko