I know I share in the essence of this green, green world, how it glistens, how the green burns so intensely in this rainy day. I am aware that I know nothing except what I know through the slime and mud and mush of this sensuous world. All of it.
Thomas Moore writes, in Original Self, "What would it be like, I wonder, if we were born in some dramatic spiritual way. Say the soul like a sheet of silky gauze fell down from the heavens in a soft flutter? Would that be preferable to the birth of a human being at the fork in the legs amid blood, excrement, and waters? I don't think so, because we are given life by the green mama as well as the angel of fire, and the green mama doesn't think much about what she does. She loves and gives birth and then takes back to herself everything she has birthed.
"The mystery of green life can be trusted because it is not self-conscious. By some magical transformative power, the green of the mother's trees and plants overwhelms us with its beauty." (82)
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