The Story of how the Earth Began to Turn

The Story of How the Earth
Began to Turn

A remembering of when stillness became motion — when light and shadow first learned to love each other into turning.

In the beginning, nothing changed. The Earth lay still beneath an unmoving sky. The soil did not stir. The rivers did not run. The air held its breath, and time had not yet learned to walk.

In that stillness, the Earth divided herself between brightness and shadow — one half bathed in endless light, the other wrapped in the hush of night. Each side was perfect in its own way, content to be as it was, untouched by change.

And for a long while, this pleased her. She watched the balance between them — the glow and the quiet, the song and the silence — and she loved them both with equal wonder.

Her bright half shimmered with eternal morning. Fields stood in full bloom, rivers sang their golden song, and every creature basked in the warmth of never-ending day. The bright lands adored their shining — every leaf, every wave — content to be exactly what they were, forever.

Her dark half rested in perpetual night. Here the world was cool and hushed. Roots reached deep into dreaming, and silence hummed with its own wisdom. The dark lands were at peace, satisfied with their quiet knowing.

But over time, something stirred — a soft ache neither side could name. The light began to long for the depth of rest, and the dark began to wonder about the taste of dawn.

At first, it was only a whisper — a shimmer across the edge where day met night — but it grew until both sides reached for one another. And where they touched, the Earth trembled with wonder. Light kissed shadow, shadow embraced light, and for the first time, something moved.

That movement was love learning to change. It was the birth of time, the first pulse of becoming. The Earth began to turn — slowly at first, then with a rhythm that felt like breath. The bright and the dark took turns carrying the world, each learning the beauty of surrender, each finding themselves within the other.

And in that sacred motion, the fear of loss dissolved. For what vanished in one breath was born again in the next. This is how the Earth learned to transform — how endings and beginnings became one continuous prayer.

The Great Work of Love

Maybe this is how the Earth still teaches us — to keep turning toward what changes us. To let light and shadow trade places within us without calling one loss and the other gain.

Maybe the great work of love is not to hold the circle closed, but to allow it to open — to let movement itself become the prayer.

Each time we allow what is leaving to move through us, something ancient remembers. We become part of that first turning, that holy rhythm of surrender and renewal that began when the Earth learned how to love without fear of change.

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This story first appeared as part of the Samhain reflection
“Samhain (SOW-in): When the Circle Opens into the Sacred Spiral of Return.”

✧ Read the Full Reflection ✧

© 2025 Lorriiii Dragon Dream | SpiritDrumming.com
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✧ Read another whispered story → When the World First Spoke