In the Alleghenian rust belt of Pennsylvania there is a river. Along this river is a wooded hillside and on this hillside is a hole that goes into the ground. As a child alone in the woods, I lowered onto my stomach and shimmied backwards into the hole, feet first and fearless. The darkness enveloped me as I continued moving backward into blackness. At one point, my body existing in divided space, I watched the bright canopy of trees ahead of me grow smaller and smaller into a marble of green and blue. Degrees of separation prevented my head from knowing where my feet were going. Eventually, the narrow underworld expanded into a room where I eventually stood inside dark earth, unable to see my hands.
And so it goes, this life of thresholds, of observing one place from another. And so it goes, I am Sarah, a human who, maybe like you, sees the world in the seed. A human who, maybe like you, is exuberant and curious, a wild bird chortling from the forest’s edge, wings lifting.
Welcome to my Substack where I will be writing about these thresholds where I open my hands with curiosity of what will land there.
You actually did this, crawling into an opening?