You can be an activist by planting Winter squash, walking in a fern forest, listening to your children, or smiling from your heart at someone who is lonely.
True activism means gently immersing your whole astonished body in the river of Presence, moved by the breath of beauty like a golden leaf, falling right where you are.
True activism means drowning in the mystery of communion with the creature right before you: a disheveled crow, a boy in the rain with his shining basketball, the moon gazing through a spider's web, a crone at the grocery store, marveling at all the soup.
These are your tribe. They have no political party. This is your native country. It is all sacred land.
Earth is not transfigured by how much you do, but how wantonly and nakedly you plunge into the ocean of this perishing moment.