“The Death of Nurturing”

By Chad May

In the time when Mother Earth was being neglected by her children,
and yet the Earth has yet to kill her own… the time when
nurturing became analyzed like so many natural resource
commodities traded among Man. Nurturing became equated with a
weak inability to stand on ones’ own two feet. More analyzed than
appreciated; more rare than any precious metal. So widely
desired, yet unattainable, despite its potential presence.
Profoundly human, profoundly animal, but divinity in essence.
Nurturing. It can’t be metered, can’t be weighed, nor assessed.
Only felt, and in no sense of quantity, valued only in its

Nurturing. You might not ever get it. You might die trying to
have it. You might give all of it you ever wish to have had given to
you. Without doubt, though, it is worth dieing for, as life
without it is not truly living. Fuck modern psychology. To hell
with therapy. Did an African bush woman ever become concerned
about giving too much, in the time before Coke came to her
village? Capitalism is all about profiting, ownership, and
ecology of resources, tit-for-tat-plus-10%interest – all of which is the antithesis of
nurturing. Nurturing is about giving, and yet more giving.
Giving with out thought to why, how much, or how long, or how much
more is left. I would rather die due to complications of nurturing, than to stick
around and die of the results of capitalism.

Nurturing is unconditional love in action, with just a hint of the
sparkle of Creations Eye. It takes two for one to feel it. When
it flows from you, it feels just as good as the one to whom it

Perhaps as the Earth slowly dies, so too will the spirit of
nurturing in her star-seeds; the only animals capable of leaving
the planet on Her behalf.

A tadpole turned into a frog one day, and nearly drowned trying to
reach dry land… only to learn that his destiny was to live in
the water, from which he had just escaped. Similarly, a
dysfunctional human learned how not to kill himself, in an attempt
to feel loved, only to learn that he could not do more than simply
exist without flirting with the self-destruction he had just
barely escaped. Spoken like a true Fuser.

To the therapist who wanted me to see my lack of boundaries, I
bet she is successfully wrapped-up with someone as I type this,
but wishing he would reach out and break her boundaries.

It is more a statement of
our times. And, yes, it will be
hard to remain nurturing in the face of the smart love-ecology of our modern


I originally wrote this in 2003, as a result of my frustration to express myself to Jakota. It wasn’t written about her, but we had a conversation on “smart love”.