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An Intolerant Mind: Why Tolerance Threatens Coexistence

A beautiful piece about the option of being connected or being less compassionate strangers- and the real point of the poem that says “good fences make good neighbors” (I don’t think people have read the poem as its point is that they DON’T.)


When we coexist with wolves, we create an empathic relation in which the other’s needs are valued as our own. We see that through trophic cascade, wolves make healthy ecosystems and cleaner rivers and purer air for our children.

When we tolerate wolves, on the other hand, we see our needs uncomfortably subjugated to a perceived special interest. We see wolves benefitting from our tolerance at a cost to ourselves, when we create forced and false tolerance, rather than coexistence.

As children, our prize possession is that which is “mine.” As adults, property becomes like lines in the sandbox. The idea is that we all “get along” as long as we play nicely and leave each other’s stuff alone. But does tolerance create good neighbors, or strangers?

In the poem “Mending Wall,” Robert Frost’s narrator recounts his neighbor’s mantra: “good fences make good neighbors.” Mending the wall that separates their properties, one of…

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Living Outdoors Unable to Walk due to MCS, real stories of MCS

Welcome to my world, kids…. if you can handle it.

Living with Multiple Chemical Sensitivity: Narratives of Coping by Gail McCormick, MacFarlane

Part of the proceeds from this book will be used to provide MCS education, research and support to people who cannot pay for services.

Jennifer, twenty-seven when we spoke, is one of many chemically sensitive people who have moved to Santa Fe in desperation. Before she made the move she was so reactive to everything in her indoor environment that for four years in Colorado she lived outside as much as she possibly could without freezing. A native of Minnesota, she was a freshman at Colorado College when she became disabled at age nineteen. Instead of living the life she had dreamed of as an independent dent college coed, she has been an invalid throughout most of her twenties. The hardest part of coping with her illness has been missing out on all the “normal” activities of this stage of life.

Jennifer has a long history of allergies, injuries and physical problems that all seem to overlap, and a family history of environmental illness. Her grandmother had a lot of allergies and her mother is sensitive to perfume and cigarette smoke. Her brother became sensitive to chemicals while working in a lab with toxic waste, and now is extremely “allergic” to perfume. As a child Jennifer often had allergy “shiners” under her eyes, although no one realized that that was what they were at the time. When her tonsils were removed her reactions to anesthetics and medications kept her hospitalized for two weeks. In the sixth grade she developed problems with her connective nective tissue and digestive system. She lost twenty pounds, gave up gymnastics and used crutches for a year, then went back to sports. In high school she developed an eating disorder and pushed her body to its limits in long-distance running, skiing, tennis, cycling and other sports. She also led wilderness backpacking and canoe trips. In college she was training hard every day, eating poorly and sacrificing sleep to study and party. Her body finally gave out. A groin injury crippled her completely. After surgery it wouldn’t heal and she was confined to a bed for three years.

Since then her health has been further compromised by a series of events. At one point she developed a staph infection when her appendix was removed. The infection didn’t show up until two years later when her navel began to ooze after a massage. Seven years later, it still oozes. She is now treating it with homeopathy because surgery is considered too risky for her. Quite by accident Jennifer discovered that her tendon and connective tissue problems and chronic fatigue were exasperated by molds and chemical exposures. Her understanding is that her various health problems are related to but not completely caused by MCS. One doctor’s theory is that her MCS and connective tissue problems may be caused by a metabolic dysfunction. Another doctor, tor, after looking at her extensive medical history, told her she will never find an answer. Jennifer summarizes her ten years of medical tests and examinations by saying that her body doesn’t absorb nutrients and her immune system has collapsed. Jennifer requested that her last name not be published in order to protect her privacy.

My first year of college was the best year of my life, until I became so crippled I couldn’t even walk. I had a lot of jobs and led a lot of wilderness trips to the Boundary Waters in Minnesota. Actually, ally, I was hyperactive, which can be a symptom of allergies. All my jobs were very physical, and I had a series of injuries that year. I had surgery for a groin injury, and it wouldn’t heal. I went to numerous doctors and pain clinics, and finally went to Mayo Clinic for a month, where they put me on muscle relaxers, pain killers, steroids and twelve Advil a day. None of that made much of a difference, and probably set me up for my environmental illness. I was in such severe pain that I couldn’t sit or walk. We had no idea what was wrong.

I was so sick of going to doctors that I didn’t want to go to another one, but my mom took me to an osteopath path who discovered my hips were severely out of place. He moved them back into place and my health began to improve. But by that time my system was so depleted, I was still confined to my bed or wheelchair and didn’t get any exercise. That winter the whole inside of my parents’ house was painted with an oil-based paint. After that my tendons swelled, I had to wear a neck brace and I couldn’t even feed myself, but we didn’t realize there was a connection between the chemical exposure sure and my health. The tendons dons in my eyes were so swollen I could hardly see. It was terrifying and traumatic for me. For three years I was in bed, couldn’t see anybody or do anything. It was all I could do to try to sit for a few minutes at a time.

I missed my friends from college, missed school and missed my active life. I wasn’t in touch with my feelings at the time. I had to stay above them or I never would have survived. The only kind of therapy I could do was in a heated pool. They would put me in the water right in my wheelchair, and a therapist would help me to move a little bit. I did that three times a week, until we realized that I was chemically sensitive. Then I discontinued the water therapy to minimize my chemical exposures. Prior to that, I also started seeing alternative doctors who found I was depleted in all kinds of nutrients. They put me on amino acids and gave me IV vitamins but still hadn’t made the environmental connection.

To give my mother a break from caretaking me twenty-four hours a day, I went to stay with a friend of the family whose husband was away. This woman used all fragrance-free and nontoxic products because she was slightly sensitive to chemicals. A couple days after I moved into her house I could walk a little, and in a few weeks I was much better. That’s how I finally realized that chemical exposures were affecting my health. At first I was excited because I thought that I would completely recover by changing my diet and lifestyle. I read a lot about MCS and environmental illness, and my doctor started helping me to detoxify my body. I ended up living with our friend for nine months and improved a lot.

But I’ve also learned that doctors have never seen some of my symptoms in others with environmental illness, so part of my problems seem to be something separate, and I continue to see other specialists. I’ve been told that my environmental illness and connective tissue sue problems may be partly caused by a metabolic problem. I’m not getting nutrients to where I need them in my body. This year it’s starting to affect the collagen of my skin. One metabolic specialist I saw looked at my medical records and said, “You’re not going to find answers.” We’d spent thousands of dollars and I was still sick. She asked me what I’d done that had helped, and I told her I ate organic foods and avoided chemical exposures. She told me to keep doing that, which was amazing to me. I don’t usually mention my chemical sensitivities to mainstream doctors.

That spring I took a turn for the worse because I was reacting to molds and pesticides. On top of that, our friend’s husband, who doesn’t believe in environmental illness, came home, and he wore a heavy scent. My body just collapsed again with chronic fatigue. That time I was in bed again four months, unable to do anything.

When my doctor realized that I was extremely sensitive to mold he told me to go back to Colorado where it was drier. As soon as I was strong enough to sit, I got on a plane and went to Colorado, rented a room in the house owned by a wonderful woman named Ruth who led an MCS support group. She said she’s never seen anyone one as sick as I was, and she helped me a lot. But her house was so moldy that I got even worse and had to sleep outside.

That was the start of living outside on and off for four years because I never could find housing that didn’t make me worse. I had such a hard time in Colorado that I don’t care if I ever go back to that state again. My mom brought out all my things and wound up staying for four months trying to find housing for me. Part of the time she stayed in cabins and part of the time she camped with me, even though she hates to camp. I had to use a blue plastic tarp to make an A-frame for myself, because even tents were making me sick. Out of desperation ation we looked for a house to buy, even though we couldn’t afford it. We looked way up in the mountains and all over Colorado, but nothing worked for me.

One October was so cold I needed to be inside, so we took a cabin knowing it was not a good place for me. We tried to make it safer by covering the whole thing in foil. My mom and I foiled all the floors, the walls and even the furniture. But I was still reacting.  A friend of mine with MCS came to try to help me figure out what was causing the problem. It was a mystery. The X factor. Then I realized I was reacting to the foil! I was also reacting to the electromagnetic fields. So we covered all the foil with tapestries. We called it the “hippie” house. I got really sick in there but I had to stay for the winter. There was nothing else.

That spring I was coming to Santa Fe for medical treatments. I used hand controls to drive my car without using my legs and feet all the time. That gave me more freedom, but sometimes I was so sick that Ruth or another friend had to drive me, or my mom would have to come from Minnesota to go with me. I gave the treatments a good shot, but they only made me worse and I gave that up after a year and a half.

The summer after I stayed in that cabin was my “summer from hell.” I was twenty-two. All my life I’d felt invincible, and now I couldn’t even fully take care of myself, though I desperately wanted to. I tried to stay at Ruth’s house again and got so sick from the mold that I couldn’t move. My mother had to fly out, with hardly any notice, to get me out of the house. She wound up camping with me in national parks most of that summer. I couldn’t have done it without her.

My mother has gone through hell with this. She and my father have spent their retirement funds on my health care. I don’t know what they’ll do when they retire. This has been so difficult for my mother, she’s gone through some counseling just to help her cope. She deserves so much credit. She has scrubbed walls, cleaned carpets and foiled condos or cabins, trying to make them safe for me, only to find out it wouldn’t work, and start all over again in another place. She really got worried when my brother developed chemical sensitivities when he was working as a chemist in a toxic lab. He looked horrid, and my mother was so worried. She said, “We can’t afford another one!” He left that job and now works outside as a hydrogeologist, geologist, and he looks great. But he’s still very sensitive to fragrances.  A boyfriend from college also supported me through those years in Colorado, especially one winter when I was living in an isolated cabin. He brought me things I needed and kept me company on the weekends. We spent a lot of time talking. He hiked while I rested. He did things for me that I couldn’t do myself, like vacuum the floors and take out the trash. Those are the kinds of things I still can’t do, so I have arranged for my roommates to take care of those things.

I experienced a lot of fiascoes while I was living outside. One time a bear came into my campsite because my cooler was sitting on the ground. I knew from my wilderness experience that it wasn’t safe to leave food or coolers on the ground, but I didn’t have a choice. I was physically unable to stash my cooler in a tree. The bear threw the cooler around and pawed through the food, then came and sniffed all over me while I lay still in my sleeping bag. I couldn’t move. There was nothing I could do but lay quietly and pray. The bear finally left about an hour later. My food was strewn all over the ground and there was nothing I could do about it. My mother wasn’t coming back until the next afternoon. By noon the next day I was so hungry that I stuck my hand into a jar that was dripping with bear saliva and ate some of the spoiled food. The cooler survived-which I always thought would have made a good Coleman commercial! That was when there were only about nine foods I could eat, mostly plain meat and vegetables. I’d go to a friend’s house or my mom’s cabin to steam enough vegetables to eat for four days.

Another close call was when I was camping alone, way out in a deserted campground and a creepy guy came along. I was never so scared in my life. My mother was gone with the car and not coming ing back until the next day. There was no place to hide and no way to get away. I just kept saying, “My mother will be here soon.” I lucked out and he left me alone. I didn’t tell my mother about the incident right away because I didn’t want her to worry. But I decided that from then on I would camp in more populated areas. The problem with that, though, was that I had to move several times a day and several times a night because I’d get wind from a camp fire or somebody using bug spray.

When my mother was sick of camping out she would stay in a cabin or condo. There were times when she had to drive out and try to find me in the dark when it was storming, because she knew the wind and rain would blow my tarp away, and that I was too weak to recover it myself. She’d find me, find my tarp and stake it down again.

Trying to find a place to shower was another challenge when I was homeless. Sometimes I found showers in office buildings. Quite often I showered in a building where I went for body work. Or I would go to a friend’s, or to the cabin or condo where my mother was staying, just long enough to take a quick shower. One time my mother was staying in a cabin at a campground, and the maintenance crew had just cleaned out the water pipes with chlorine. I didn’t know it, but all the other campers were complaining ing because they’d used too much chlorine and it had caused a toxic hazard. I went in and took a shower, thinking the chlorine smelled strong to me because I was so sensitive. My mother walked in and screamed, “Get out of the shower! That’s pure chlorine they’re dumping on you!” By then my skin and hair were saturated with chlorine, and I had to get it out. I remembered a massage therapist who had said I could come to her place if I ever needed a shower or bath. So, at ten o’clock at night my mother and I arrived at her door, freezing cold, and this sweet woman took us in. It was a most magical night I will always remember because it had been so long since I’d had a hot bath, and my mom got to sit with the family enjoying hot tea and cookies and watching a movie. Another memorable shower incident happened when I went to get a haircut. Before I could stop the woman she sprayed some detangler or something on my hair. I was extraordinarily sensitive to everything at the time and it made me horribly sick. I had to get it out. So, my mother and I went to my friend’s house but she couldn’t let us in because the smell of the hair product made her sick, too. So my mother tried to wash my hair with vinegar and baking soda outside with the garden hose. Then we started driving back to my campground, an hour away. We were both tired and ornery and wanted to sleep. But the smell was still on my hair and making me sick. I tried to cover it up with a cap, and that didn’t work either. As much as I hated to I said, “Mom, we’ve got to go back to Lisa’s to get out this smell.” We drove back, I took off my clothes, covered my body with plastic garbage bags and drenched my hair outside with tomato juice. We knew that tomato juice takes away the skunk smell from dogs that have been sprayed. We figured that if it worked for that it would work on this hair product. All the neighbors must have wondered what in the world I was doing outside in the freezing ing snow with plastic bags on me! It did work, but I remember freezing the rest of that night.

Seasonal Affect Disorder as Evolutionary Good? Heathen Survival and Sacred Herbs

Many people suffer from Seasonal Affect Disorder where the lack of light causes depression. There may be a natural, helpful reason for SAD. With so little to do and so little food to eat, staying in bed sleeping (a sign of depression) conserved energy and food. The Ancient Heathens may not have suffered from SAD. Body fat stores Vitamin D which we get from sunlight. Losing weight in winter the Vitamin D stored in the fat cells would be released, to help keep the Vitamin D levels up. Today we tend to gain weight in winter. Low Vitamin D levels are connected with symptoms like ADD and depression, which is why many doctors suggest taking Vitamin D3 for patients suffering from SAD.


The St John’s Wort flowers gathered at the Summer Solstice would have been a natural anti-depressant as they were believed to hold the power of the sun. In Germany doctors prescribe St John’s Wort for mild depression. It causes a sensitivity to light, which hints at its winter use.

More Gaelic German Mythology Crossover


Christian Danes destroy Wendish polytheist statues

Balderich (“prince ruler”), a giant in the Baltic Sea on the Island of Rugen, was frustrated with having to wade to the mainland of Pomerania. He decided to connect the island with the continent. Gathering rocks and soil in his apron, he set off. His apron tore creating the Nine Hills. Balderich repaired the hole and continued. 13 more mountains were formed by yet another rip in the apron. When he reached Pomerania, he barely had enough left to form a peninsula. Consumed by rage, he died.


Meanwhile in Scotland the Cailleach (“veiled one”, a modern term for an old hag) came from Norway with her apron filled with rocks. A giant, these rocks were immense. Her apron strings broke and although she struggled in vain to hold the boulders, they fell. Thus the islands north of Scotland and the rocky Scottish Highland land was created. (There are other versions of the Cailleach in Ireland, one of whom had a boulder throwing contest with another giant women and creating mountains.)


Giants are often associated with creating features in the landscape, but these two seem to have shared the same bad apron maker.


Historical fun: The Isle of Rugen is well documented as being polytheist in the 11th century. The Christian Danes attacked and left us a report of the Gods of the Wends. The Wends were a multicultural tribe who started as the half of the Belgic Celtic Veneti that moved east to Poland as another part moved to Britain, eventually becoming the Kingdom of Gwynedd and a small tribe in Ireland’s County Donegal. The eastern Veneti, often called the Venedi, ruled a large area. Being excellent sailors, one theory says they brought the Vanir Gods to Sweden. As the later German migrations intermingled with the Celtic Venedi the culture changed. Over time the Venedi lost power and were a small tribe surrounded by Slavic tribes. Eventually they became the Wends, worshipping their versions of Slavic deities.


Now, who wants to argue that genetic and cultural “purity” exists?


Heather and Simbi Hissing in a Tree….



Simbi hand shrine by Heather Awen

Today is Papa Simbi’s Day, the Haitian lwa my mother brought home unknown to her so he could be with me. When I was 15 my mother was visiting Haiti as a liberation theologian and it just so happened that a revolution occurred. Weeks went by and no one contacted me to tell me how she was or if she was even alive and I noticed two of my friends who were 23 making plans to adopt me. (Notice that no one even considered trying to locate my father.)


Somebody was savvy enough to make revolution T-shirts that later turned into an art form. But what she brought back was much greater than that. Not only did she have famous Haitian artist Hector Hippolyte’s death mask, given to her for safekeeping until she could bring it back, but Papa Simbi also came with her.



My Mother Went to the Haitian Revolution and I Got This Awesome T Shirt by Heather Awen

It took a long time to realize what all of those nightmares about watersnakes work about. Eventually I could link that they were barriers (usually I was afraid of stepping on them ) keeping me from doing something dangerous. When I attempted driving and had to renew my license and take the actual test again because I’d been living in a foreign nation for so long I dreamt of watersnakes covering the car so completely there was no to enter. My paramedic friend says we are all very grateful I do not drive. My dyspraxia and sensory processing makes it completely overwhelming. Every time I get in the car I have to ask which one is the brake which one is the gas. The Vermont DMV book LIES. Driving is not something we all can do.


Simbi is known for being very shy. He doesn’t need big offerings which is quite a relief. Many people will try to contact him and many people will fail. He is incredibly choosy about with whom he will work.


Simbi hand shrine by Heather Awen

Some say that Simbi is indigenous spirit of the Taino people, one of the main cultures living in Haiti when Christopher Columbus stumbled across it. My brother, a Puerto Rican brujo, also “has Simbi.” He has female Simbi. I have the herbal healer Simbi. But in our own experiences, Simbi is whomever Simbi wants to be. He has a lot of snakes living in his yard which is living shrine.


Simbi in the form of a snake because it is Simbi about danger before a branch from an over 300-year-old red oak tree fell. I had a vision of a place with samples like blackberries where there was a sapling broken in half as the place where Simbi wanted a shrine. My friend built the shine in exactly the place I described although I have never been there or see a photograph. He would sit there sharing drinks French pastries and cigars, talking to Simbi. Evidently this was seen as dating because then I was told that snakes wanted one of his dreadlocks because a female leader was in love with it. Their name for him was “snakehead.” He doesn’t have those fashionable deadlocks – instead they are rather short and gnarly based on how his hair grows. He knew exactly which dreadlock she wanted and left it as an offering.


He’s a swamper. Those people who find magic and medicine in wetlands. He’s also a culinary genius which is the basis of much of his magic. Other parts include bioregional animist relationships, his ancestors especially his great grandmother who taught him about the Power and working with the experience of animal spirits who have passed on. He knows what from the dumpster or hardware store will help. His backyard is something like a wildlife rehabilitation center except for plants.


One of his rituals involves riding around on his bicycle and forming relationships with different spirits of place. At different points on the edges of his immediate neighborhood he makes offerings after listening to that tree or stone or whatever is at the edge. Once they have a relationship and know who he is, often by giving offerings of his hair, he is safe in his neighborhood. When riding his bicycle within that area he has survived some amazing crashes. If he leaves that neighborhood his senses immediately become more acute scanning for danger.


That’s the kind of magic my friends and I do. Or I used to do when I could go outside. And of course he picks up trash. He was going to build a snake hibernation area based on a large project in Canada using bulldozers that he was going to minimize but his wife didn’t like that idea. Instead he’s working to save the red oak tree that has lived longer than most. It suffers from rot.


Last year I finally married Simbi. I’m not his Godspouse. It’s very common in Haitian Vodou to marry at least one but usually three lwa. However there is a ceremony only someone who has been initiated to a top-level can perform. It’s basically a real Catholic wedding.


Simbi had been asking for me to marry him for over a year. The dreams kept getting stronger and he is the only spirit whoever talks in dreams. I wasn’t sure what would happen.


When I learned that I might have Lyme disease and was waiting for the actual test results that cost $600 (the Western blot test is only 55% accurate at best; tell the FDA to take it off the market!), I spoke with all of my beloved spirits about it. Immediately Simbi jumped into my left arm swimming in the blood biting things. I thought that was unusual because Lyme disease is bacteria that causes infections anywhere and everywhere inside your body.


Turned out I had babesiosis as well, a potentially fatal illness caused by a parasite that was mistaken for malaria until very recently when microscopes became stronger. It’s like malaria but worse. There’s an epidemic in China and not a lot known about how to treat babesiosis. It causes a wide range of horrible symptoms and I really wish I had just gotten Lyme disease. Why did that tick have to be carrying babesiosis?


The parasite lives in your red blood cells . With Simbi coming from places where malaria is common of course he immediately jumped into my bloodstream. It made sense after I got my results.


I dreamt that a little red coral snake was wrapped around my wedding band finger. Simbi explained that if we were married I would be family which meant all of the other Simbis could help me. I said yes.


My Simbi often will take the form of a man from the Congo responsible for healing and protecting his village. Unlike the Haitian Simbi he is able to communicate well with words. He chose that form because of the great suffering in Haiti’s past and present at the hands of white people who taught racism and extreme violence which infected the nation’s leaders. But sometimes he does appear as a Haitian lanky man who rests his head silently on my lap.


I made Simbi this hand shrine. Because mine is mostly focused on healing with herbalism I chose a lot of leaves. But he also got most of my favorite metal cloisonné beads. There’s also one of my treasured beads that was handmade for me with no tools as part of a necklace I was given at the first East Coast bioregional animism event.


Some of the beads are vertebrae from snakes. I have my own ethical policies about what I buy. All of the beads are glass or metal Fair Trade. I would like to have them be recycled but those are too expensive usually. Any bone beads are antique. Nobody killed an animal for making beads today. However I’m aware that a lot of beads made out of bone are a way of using every part of an animal that was slaughtered for food. (I hate the word use.) Like at Pow Wows there are usually quite a few people selling rattles made from turtle shells. The turtle shells come from restaurants so they were not killed to make the rattle.


For any of these things I prefer to be as personally involved with the sellers as I can because I want my money to go to places that share my values. I look at packaging and their environmental policy. I do not buy any stones because I don’t want to support the environmental and human death toll caused by the mining industry. Also if the stones have such great powers I believe they should stay where they are in their families. What role they play in the planet’s health I don’t know and would rather not find out the hard way. I already have written about web crystals and other stones come from an article that was labeled under “controversial” by the Wild Hunt. British Pagans understood a lot more than American ones, based on emails and forums discussing it. Which isn’t a large accurate poll, but something I found culturally interesting.


The pendant was something I bought for Simbi, an offering to show him how I feel. It stayed on his shrine until I made this. At the other send the bead with the crossroads shows the Kongo cosmology.




If the pics is a stick I found in a lake that bearers chewed the ends of into perfect points. As Simbi is a watersnake it made sense to use in the photos.

What is Sensory Processing Disorder? video

Amythest Schaber is AWESOME! I know Pagans with SPD who are not autistic as well. One little girl I know with SPD diagnosed by specialists is forced by her school to PTSD therapy because they don’t understand or care about her real needs. I understand how someone with hypersensitivity to touch might appear to be a result of trauma but when she is gently touched it feels incredibly painful to her. That’s why she screams. But schools are notoriously bad at listening to parents, students, experts, the law, etc….

Scientific Animism Guided Visualization (book)

Animate Earth: Science, Intuition and Gaia by Stephan Harding

This is one of my favorite books. There’s nothing like it. Accurate science understood in different ways. It’s the only scientific animism book. If you want to connect differently with scientific information or with The Song, here you go!


Breathing Chalk and Granite

If you can, find a small piece of granite and a small piece of chalk or limestone. If you can’t find these stones, then imagine that you are holding one in each hand. The two stones represent all of the granite and all the chalk on our planet’s surface.


Make yourself comfortable, either indoors or out, and become aware of breathing slowly and naturally.


Focusing now only on your in-breaths, imagine that carbon dioxide is being drawn out of the atmosphere by the life-enhanced weathering of the granite in your hand. Imagine the tree roots, the microbes and the fungi crumbling the rock, surrounding it with water and carbon dioxide, which is locked up with calcium in a chalky solution of calcium bicarbonate washed down to the sea to be made into solid chalk by the coccolithophores.


See their chalky shells sinking to the bottom of the ocean, and visualise vast deposits of chalk and limestone laid down on the sea bed—the very chalk or limestone that you are holding in your other hand.


Become aware of this stone now. Focusing now only on your out-breaths, see how the chalk sediments are pushed deep under the Earth when the movements of the Earth’s tectonic plates collide them against a continent. Feel the carbon dioxide spewing out of volcanoes as the chalk melts in the intense temperatures and pressures deep down beneath the continent.


As your outbreath stops, you become carbon dioxide coursing through the atmosphere, warming the Earth. Feel how, in its melting, the chalk has contributed to the making of new granite. Connecting once again with the presence of the granite in your hand, repeat the cycle until it flows naturally and easily.