Invisible Lines



I am so grateful for the many beautiful experiences in my life. Recently, I had the honor of folding sheets with a Woman from Germany. Not speaking much of the same language we were still able to love each other. Under the glow of the super moon seeing into each other’s eyes. Connecting our energy to do the work. We walked towards and away from each other criss crossing the soft material, instinctively feeling which way to move, which side to fold. We had done this before. We’ve been women many times and in many places.

Suddenly I felt the weight of Country. A country is land, water, plains, mountains. And something called borders. Something that exists in our minds, in drawings, in words. Countries are colors on a map. An inclosure of legal containment. Countries arise when the leaders of war have finished killing off or enslaving the indigenous population. Borders are the chalk outlines of bodies, the victims of ancient and modern crimes.