We stepped into the old stone house, its dark hallways lightened by small windows.  The older man with the white beard welcomed us, tall and Sean Connery-esqe.  He offered us a free farm, his kind eyes gazing softly at us.  We giddily agreed to see this beautiful place that we have dreamed of.  We had to take a small plane to get there.  It seemed to be a quick trip.  The lush green around us was welcoming.  Herbs and plants, grassy fields, tall mountains greeted us.  Vibrant green and fresh.  A group of sheep preceded by two small dogs approached us gleefully.  They stood before a large fenced garden patch waiting to be tilled and seeded.  That was when we realized it.  They weren’t real.  They were almost robotic in movement.  The animals were copies of the ones we fondly raised on our last farm.

Confused we went for a walk in this strange place.  We kneeled near a cliff and looked down at the shining waters, deep and mysterious as fish swam through the clear waves.  Suddenly several cars and RVs came driving over the water.  The water was not water after all but a copy.  A water-like surface that was actually hard and became a parking lot as the artificial fish floated mechanically.

I opened envelopes.  One from my sister.  One from my grandparents.  They contained photos.  Photos of our life.  Of things on earth so that our future generations would not forget what it was like on earth.  Someone yelled from a cave.  “Don’t tell anyone else know about this place!  Too many people are coming here!”  No birds could be seen.

We had destroyed Earth.  The animals, the plant life, our lives had been destroyed and now rushes of humans came to occupy this new planet called Dawali.  I was sad.  We cried.  We desperately tried to get back to Earth so we could warn everyone.

I awoke.

The sun shone through the window illuminated by the newly fallen snow.  The mountains in a cloudy mist.  Doug was making coffee and the gas fireplace created an artificial glow.

I thought of the waste created from one commercial store, the overflowing dumpsters near our apartment complex and times it by a billion.

On a homestead I felt secure with my wind powered clothes line.  My hand washed clothes and dishes.  Our carbon neutral wood heat.  Our huge gardens and preserves.  How can I make an impact from my third floor apartment?

I firmly believe in the power of the elements and that we will not destroy Mother Earth but rather we will feel the impact of our mindless decisions.  Cancer, illnesses, natural disasters, whatever it takes to lower the population and protect our resources are out of our hands.  I must be more mindful.  It is far too easy to throw out a bag of trash for the valet trash service.  Or to drive when I can walk.  Or not take a reusable mug around with me.  What are some things we can do to help sustain our Mother?  Our food, our medicine, our life stems from her chest, our bodies return to her soil.  We must become more respectful of our Mother.  I intend to be more mindful.  I hope you will join me.