The Chinese character for “bad” (坏) is composed of two parts: one signifies “earth” (土), the other means “no” or “not” (不).
In Chinese, the word “坏” can also mean to rot or decompose. In ancient Chinese cosmology, morality isn’t seen as a fixed code, but as something woven into the cyclical rhythms of nature. What we call “bad” is not simply evil—it is what is breaking down, returning to the soil, becoming earth again.
What parts of ourselves do we deem “bad”? What do we cast as “bad” in others? Can we stay present to the slow decay, participating in the decomposition and witnessing the rot not as failure but as a passage through which new life is born? Can we render our very being as the ground, so others may find their footing?
Earth Says No
No—
I am not a thing to measure,
not a specimen to study,
nor a ledger to balance.
Would you dissect your own eye, in an effort to understand the beauty of the sunset?
Would you dam up your own throat to stop the river of tears from flowing?
Would you bulldoze your own heart down to an empty lot,
claim ownership to occupy it,
and cast away the secret of love it keeps?
No—
I am not outside you.
I breathe within your breath,
pulse beneath your skin.
I am the Earth inside your body—
the sparks in your cells
that are 14 billion years old,
that remember being stardust,
drifting through the dark,
whirling through galaxies
to dive into this velvet blue dream.
I love the simplicity of this way to understand the concept of "no" and "bad" not as something cast out of the scope of god's love (as I was raised to think) but as a moment in the flow of the divine in form as earth's dreaming. Thank you Spring for sharing this wisdom and beauty.
Spring, thank you for your profound words and your beautiful poetry. You remind me that I can take a more cosmic perspective on the tragedies of our days and that I can trust the natural unfolding of things.