Less driving, more walking and biking
More waving and smiling as we pass one another
Less traffic, more birdsong, more pausing to listen to the birdsong
Less shopping, more mending
More paring down to what is essential for us to thrive
More meals prepared with less rush, eaten with more pleasure
Listening to our bodies more, less ignoring inner signals
Less chatter, more listening
More realization of privilege and all it means—having a home to shelter in, a secure income, racial privilege—more desire to address inequity
More awareness that my health is your health, your well-being is my well-being
More attending to the nestbuilding going on in the neighborhood
More fervor for spring, for all that is unfolding and tender, for the miracle of leaves coming alive on trees
More appreciating the power of photosynthesis and our dependence on it, less taking this gift for granted
More amazement at the redness of radishes
More awareness of our human fragility
Less arrogance and more humility about our human place in all creation
In the midst of more physical separation, less belief that we are separate, more knowing how we are held by the web of life
—Carol Tyx, Prairiewoods artist in residence and author of several books of poetry, including the recently released Remaking Achilles, Slicing into Angola’s History