A week or two ago, I was watching a TED talk about tar sands mines and the damage they do. It wasn't easy viewing. And it depressed me. I know that, for the good of us all, and not least for the good of those ancient forests and wetlands and the people, human and otherwise, who live there, we need to keep that oil in the ground. But I could see no way that we can persuade the people with the oil money to refrain from stripping bare another patch of our Mother Earth just because it is the right thing to do. It depressed me.

The only way the right thing is going to be done is if many of us realise our essential interconnectedness and interdependence with all beings. We all need to be touched by and strive to live in the magic of connection. But how do we create enlightenment for enough of us for it to make a real difference? It's not like time is in our favour.

Which of course doesn't mean we might as well stop trying. Our Big Adventure* is an attempt to live on fewer resources on a very personal level. And the Spiritual Centre I intend to create at Westacre will have the mission of offering people experiences of the magic of connection and their essential nature. And even though that is a tiny thing compared to those enormously destructive tar sands mines, it is what my husband and I can do.

So last week I wrote a marketing plan for the project. It involves creating a web site, learning how to use a video camera and video editing software, writing online courses that I can sell, finding a community of people who will support the project and the spiritual centre and us, and generally getting the word out there. Which is a lot of work. And most of it makes me want to squeal and hide in a little corner. When I actually got the video camera as a birthday present on Tuesday, part of me was excited, but the other part wanted to run for the hills.

As this is the Root Moon of this year, I went looking for the things that nurture and feed me through all of that work. And the spirits are not making it easy on me. They have told me that the essence of the nurture I need is communication, savouring the give and take of real sharing, starting with friends. They couldn't have suggested anything more scary. I have a dread of - I don't know what it is, actually. People. I find social contact stressful, a lot of the time. This fear comes from my history, and the whole idea of opening up to people to the extent that this is real and nurturing pushes a lot of old buttons. As my counsellor said: I'm not that little girl any more. Still, it's taken me over a week to actually get in touch with some friends and suggest getting together.

Of course, I know that it will do me good in the end. And it is in harmony with that realisation that I had while I was ill: I can't do it on my own, but the power we have comes from our interconnectedness with all beings. The creative power of all people, of our community, is what we need to use. The magic of connection.

So if I am going to succeed, I'll need to stick my neck out and take some risks. I will have to risk rejection and disapproval and goodness knows what. I will need to risk being honest about my fears to my friends, and stop pretending that I'm stronger than I feel. How else can I open up to the nurture that communication and friendship can give me?

This is going to take courage. Every bit of courage I can find. But I can feel the magic as I sit outside and see the spring creating its first miracles all around me. I can feel that what I have set out to do is bigger than myself, but not bigger than my essential nature. In essence, I am part of an amazing community of all beings, and a few amazing communities of people. It's time for me to rely on community for nurture and support. I am not alone.

*the Big Adventure: My husband and I are going to renovate a house and make it as environmentally friendly as we can. I plan run a mini retreat centre from there. This is Westacre Day minus 294.