I relate more and more to our sister, Mother Earth, as I begin to grow old. Storms and cold like this tell me that she is broken, I think this brutal cold is a message for her, a plea to be loved and healed.

She is broken, as I have been broken, and still am. That is a strong connection. I have learned that the first step towards healing is not to step away from the pain, but to run towards it, and hold it closely to my heart.

I sometimes feel as if our world is drowning in greed, and greedy will not rest until they have raped and devoured all that is beautiful. Then I get hopeful again. That is what courage is for me. That is what I have to offer.

For the first time in my life with dogs, they can’t stand on their feet outside long enough to eliminate, we have prepared space in the pantry for them to urinate and defecate. It was – 18 outside, and Bud lasted longer than the border collies, it was painful just to breathe.

Maria is accepting her hypothermia experience and went outside in short bursts.

We agreed I should not go outside at all this morning, except to warm up the car. I’m taking Bud to Petco to get him some winter booties, something I  said I would never do. But the dog’s well-being comes first, even before my ego.

This kind of storm, this kind of cold, this kind of almost desperate and lurching weather – it will be 50 degrees on Thursday – tells me Mother Earth is broken, it is hard to live in a culture that refuses to believe it, or come together to help her heal.  Any farmer knows what is happening to our earth, all you need to do is look out of a window.

She is broken, she is crying out to us, giving us a chance to help her heal.

So this is a moment to talk about my brokenness. I am a broken man, I have been most, if not all, of my life.  It is not a depressing thing for me to say that, it is quite affirming.

You can put the pieces together, but they never fit the way they were supposed to fit. I think everyone I know or know of is broken in some way.

“Our brokenness is so visible and tangible,” writes Henri Nouwen in Life Of The Beloved, “so concrete and specific, that it is often difficult to believe that there is much to think, speak or write about other than our brokenness.”

I feel helpless sometimes to help Mother Earth, that is a lonely feeling.

I have come to see my own brokenness as a gift in many ways. We learn more from trouble than anything.

Brokenness led me to writing, to photography, to my farm, to Maria, to an understanding of myself that is in itself healing and powerful.

My brokenness has always revealed much about who I am, it tells people something unique about me, for better or worse. You have to be prepared for worse. You could muster an Army with the people who have run from me.

It is a matter of trust to disclose something about myself that reveals my vulnerability and weakness. It is a hopeful thing that I do feel that trust.

Brokenness is personal, individual, intimate. I am broken in the way that no other human being is broken, and they are broken in a way that is not familiar to me. People often have tried to tell me they know what I am feeling, or that they feel the same thing as I feel. I believe that is a self-serving lie, if often a well-meaning one. No one can know that, any more than I can see into anyone else’s soul.

For some time, the brokenness I felt was the breaking of the heart.  It was always more than that.

Every person I know or meet or see suffers in a way that no other human being suffers, and every human being suffers.

To learn this is the pathway to empathy, one of the highest callings of humanity, at least to me. I never compare my pain to the pain of other people, it is pointless and narcissistic to me. But I know they know pain and suffering.

My is mine, yours is yours, what is important is that we see the pain and suffering in each other, and not fall prey to the idea that we alone suffer, or suffer the most, or suffer alone. That is what identity is about, that and dignity and self worth.

In so many ways, brokenness is what binds us to each other, not what separates us. We are all alone in our pain, there is no hiding from that. I never tell others that I know their pain because I have the same pain inside of me. That does not seem helpful to me.

I love Maria and we are so close to one another. Almost every day, she surprises me with her brokenness and feelings and emotions. I know that she has suffered, I can’t  feel what she feels. I don’t want to know that, it is a violation of self to me to know what.

I believe I am joined by other living beings in my brokenness, just as I am joined now to Mother Earth in hers. I write on my blog, she speaks to me in storms and cold and beautiful skies and wind. I listen every day to her song, as I sing my own in my writing and photos.

I have learned to embrace my brokenness, it tells me that I have much to offer the world, not that I have suffered too much. Pain is inevitable, suffering is, to me, a choice.

When I began to believe I had nothing to offer the world, and that the world had nothing to offer me, I began to lose my grip on life, and nearly gave up on it.

My brokenness opened my mind and soul to love and the joy of life. It healed my heart. I have so much faith in my heart, even though I don’t know where to bring it or put it.

I have so much to offer the world, my story is important.

This morning, I blew a kiss to Mother Earth as she reached out so desperately for help and attention.

That is the message of this cold, these storms, for me.