Earthworm gratitude and trust

I woke up in the middle of the night and crafted an elaborate essay in my head about earthworms and two trauma persons. I’m not going to write it, so there.  But two things are worth mentioning. The brain doesn’t file memories in neat alphabetized coded folders. It’s just a mass jumble with all sorts of associations along with some silly cross wiring. But also, about earthworms, I used to be scared by them. Whenever my Dad assigned us the chore of weeding the garden, in summer (in front of the hedge, when I was about age 6), anytime I saw an earthworm squiggle, I startledly screamed, a response the first trauma person used to repeatedly take pleasure in by walking up behind me and shoving a writhing worm into my line of sight. Then, when I was around 14, volunteering at Marshlands Conservancy (partly to escape the aforementioned person), I learned to love and be grateful for earthworms. Alison, the naturalist at the Conservancy, walked with me through the forest, stopped in the darkest area (lots of overstory), turned over a log (I later learned she did this for any group she took through the forest), tugged an earthworm out of the soil, held it in her palm, and calmly but enthusiastically explained its role in eating leaves and making soil, without which we could “end up covered in leaves” (haha). Then, she asked if she could put the earthworm in my palm and, trusting her, I said yes, and it was so easy, light and wonderful.

The messages are, be grateful for earthworms AND remember and cherish the people you always trusted. Another message is you can also end up writing the little essay anyway, but leave out all the deeper trauma that somehow in the middle of the night seemed important to focus on before you refocused your mindfulness in being grateful for the earthworm. Remember that right next to that well trodden trauma path in your brain there could easily be a positive happy path on which to leap and take a ride, so look for it.

(Imagine a picture of me holding an earthworm in my palm)