Anchored in heaven and earth!
1. O that you would tear open the heavens and come down,
so that the mountains would quake at your presence.—
2. as when fire kindles burshwood and the fire causes water to boil—
to make your name known to your adversaries,
so that the nations might tremble at your presence!
The Bishop of Liverpool asked in paper on Jesus and the earth: "It is the big ecological question: Have we passed the point of no return? Does the earth possess the power to heal itself? Does there still live “the dearest freshness deep down things”.
a power of the earth comes from deep in the earth throught the soles of the feet:
The Spanish poet Lorca, has written of the duende, the power from the earth. The duende, is "a power and not a construct, is a struggle and not a concept. I have heard an old guitarist, a true virtuoso, remark, "The duende is not in the throat, the duende comes up from inside, up from the very soles of the feet." That is to say, it is not a question of aptitude, but of a true and viable style—of blood, in other words; of what is oldest in culture: of creation made act.
This "mysterious power that all may feel and no philosophy can explain," is, in sum, the earth-force, the same duende that fired the heart of Nietzsche, who sought it in its external forms on the Rialto Bridge, or in the music of Bizet, without ever finding it, or understanding that the duende he pursued had rebounded from the mystery-minded Greeks to the Dancers of Cádiz or the gored, Dionysian cry of Silverio's siguiriya."
"The most elusive word in the Spanish language is duende. Like a breeze or moonlight, it is more easily experienced than explained. In stories, it means simply an imp or goblin, or a poltergeist-like force that disturbs the spirit of a house. But it runs much deeper than that; duende is almost a blood-type. Someone who has it in their veins is likely to be creative, fey, prescient, spontaneous, captivating, maybe melancholic, volatile. Or none of these. One of duende's charms is that just when it seems grasped, it slips away like a trout; makes a chord change; turns quick as a small child from laughter to tears. But if you had to pin just one name to this bewitching faculty, the name would be Federico Garcia Lorca."