Write on a small piece of paper a big burden. Burn it and release the ashes into water or soil.

That instruction was an assignment between sessions of Mirabai Starr’s online course, “Divine Desire: A Journey into the Heart of Feminine Mysticism.” I was intrigued. How could one small piece of paper possibly hold the burdens that I carry – that all of us carry – in these heartless times? The cruelty and greed now unleashed upon the world seem boundless. The weight is heavy, the burden massive. Can we distill it to its essence and pour it into a handful of words?

I decided to try. I assembled what I needed: a pen and a tiny slip of paper, a glass bowl, and a packet of matches. I walked into the woods not far from my house. I considered the burdens I carry and the weight that lies on my heart like a stone. The 24/7 news cycle is filled to bursting with stories of grift and corruption, hatred and lies. We hear much less often¹ about how fossil fuel pollution and habitat destruction are affecting the natural world. Yet that is what burdens me most. I feel the weight of human activity on this planet – the careless overreach and indifference, the wounded grasslands and assaulted forests, the dried-out aquifers and the relentless warming – as if it were a rock placed against my chest.

I was following the woodland trail down to the river, but I had to stop walking along the way. I leaned against a tree and wept. How could I possibly pile one more burden onto Mother Mary or Jesus? They already have enough to carry! I empathized with every child who fears that her parents aren’t up to the task of parenting. They already have too much to worry about, they can’t listen to your pain, it might overwhelm them, much better to suck it up, handle this yourself, and go it alone.

Was I willing to trust that the Divine was bigger than my parents and able to receive my burden?  I resumed walking and found a secluded spot beside the river.

I found the words I wanted, the essence of my grief. For a moment I laid the slip of paper on the branch of a tree and let the tree carry it awhile.

The world is on fire.
We are lost.
Love is not loved.

How light that little piece of paper was, yet how heavy the weight it carried! I took the paper off the tree bough and set it in the bowl. I lit a match. I was glad that the forest floor was damp after the morning’s rain, for I didn’t want to start a fire (the world is already on fire!). I was cautious with the flame, and it took several efforts before the paper burned. I told myself that that was okay. Prayer takes patience and persistence. Let the message take its time; it would get where it needed to go.

Afterwards I wondered where to put the ashes. Perhaps into the river? Instead, I decided to bury them under the canopy of a trillium on the river’s edge. Its three green leaves reminded me of the Holy Trinity – over to you! Hide me under the shelter of your wings!

I walked home through the woods, wondering what had just happened. What a curious ceremony! I realized that my words had vanished into fire and air, that they lay beside a river, that they were buried in soil. It seemed that all four elements – earth, air, fire, and water – had received my words and the weight they carried. Of course, the living world has known for years that the world is on fire, that humans are lost, that love is not loved – my message wasn’t telling trees and wind, river and soil, frogs and birds anything they didn’t already know.

But something had changed, and it seemed to be this: Now they know that I know. And now I know that they know that I know. My burden is theirs; their burden is mine. The burden is ours. It is lighter when we share it together. The sap that rises through the tree is the stream that runs through the forest is the wind that sweeps across the hillside is the blood that courses in my veins is the love that flows through us all, every one of us. We are one community. Together we breathe, we live, we flow, we die, we rise.

Mother Mary, come to me.

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Questions:
How would you name the big burden you carry?

What it is like to discover your ecological self – to realize that you and what we call “the natural world” are not two separate “things” but are interwoven, interdependent, co-arising?

What energy for love is released when you offer your burden to the Divine (to the universe, nature, God)?

There are those who try to set
Fire to the world
We are in danger
There is only time to move slowly
There is no time not to love.
― Deena Metzger

1. Bill McKibben’s substack post on Earth Day reflects on so-called “climate hushing” and the need to keep talking about climate change even as we fight to protect democracy. Bill McKibben, “Let’s TALK climate: Loud, clear. No more hushing.” April 22, 2026, https://billmckibben.substack.com/p/lets-talk-climate