Blessed healing community, please accept this offering from the ground of love ~
~
Recycling prayer [9-12-01]
For years …
I joined my brothers and sisters
in a rush to get rid of containers, papers, clutter.
Oh, the irony!
Wal-mart, of the cheap-turning coin
Artistically presents sacred words
~ now so disputed, most probably misappropriated ~
Spewing them across the ceiling of the doorway-entrance:
"Man did not weave the web of life, he is merely a strand in it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself."
Stolen words towards a disingenuous purpose.
Would Chief Seattle cringe?
Would his Spirit storm at being twisted in Mammon's service?
Can I ~ even with careful attention ~ keep My Purpose Holy?
Here? At Wal-mart? Now?
Can I love-ground in a world warring to divide?
I see the movement; it is a flurry of business at the recycling center.
We rush, hurry - no speech, no connection, more tasks ahead!!
The cardboard, tin cans, aluminum, milk jugs
with residues of use, a slight odor ~
Get them behind us, NOW!
Out of our space, de-clutter our homes, our cars!
Tear us from this task and redirect us to 'more important' matters.
I, like my brothers and sisters at Wal-Mart,
try to honor the earth, to enter respectful stewardship ...
But I see rush, rush, torments of rush ...
Folks stumbling, hurrying to 'get done with it'
Folks racing to be first to the container,
Pushing ahead, butting in ~
Forgetting their neighbor ~
Oh, we abandon Holy Purpose
and make our God, Expedience.
Remind me, Grandmother.
Remind us: All is sacred.
Especially, bring us back to the Light.
Help us awaken to this moment's Holy Purpose.
This day, before entering the rush,
I do gentle /~gassho~\
to You, My Grandmother,
for Your wisdom, Your holding, Your terrible care.
I thank You and beg forgiveness ~
I see the tree-graves,
the material surfeit, the stuff-stuff-stuff from me, my family.
Oh, I know, brothers and sisters, these block me from the simple path
Perhaps, I must leave this spot's flurry and enter my imagination. Stretch toward an alternative vision:
Instead of rapid strangers, disconnected ...
Let us re-member ourselves, One Family.
I hear ~ now ~ the respectful poundings of an ancient drum
A Great people awakens anew,
floods Our Grandmother with thanks for the give-away nurture.
A Great People re-emerges, offers praises for the fading Buffalo
~ The Giver whose Body, Once for All people ~
each sacred segment ~
was given in a Sacred Manner
to weave the fabric of a people's home.
I hear
~ though only in my mind's vision ~
the joining-Songs of All Traditions
Instead of chaos, disorder, confusion, Babel-ing ~
Each Song contributes mightily to the Beauty-Whole.
Each speaks thanks,
Each reminds us now
~ most importantly, this day ~
of Our One-Earth-Body-shared.
Oh, Grandmother ~
You who have gathered the remnants of our broken brothers, sisters, children
across ALL lands from our ancient beginnngs ~
You who still feel the pangs of tons of fiery rubble ~
You Who twist, groan, hurl and moan like a laboring mother as we fumble to approximate your love-nature,
Your nurture-nature,
Your inability to divide or separate 'enemy' from 'enemy,' ~
Your nature-dumb crazed commitment
to carry ALL, ALL of US on Your Body ~
You Who simmer in agony at the
droplets of blood, tears,
heavy foot-steps of rescue workers
and broken weight of lifeless limbs this day ~
You Who have received the blood, bodies and dust of our life-shells ~
Generation upon generation, brother slaying brother, now, still, again
Grandmother, please, please ~ bring us home to You.
Ground us,
As You bear our weight,
Remind us we are held in trembling wonder
Let us walk gently,
with honor,
kindness
and sacred intent
upon Your body.
Lend us ~ infants as we are ~
The suckled nourishment of
Knowing we are One People in You.
There is no other ceremony.
There is no other ceremony.
There is no other ceremony.
There is no other ceremony.
All we are is Yours, Great Grandmother.
~
Namaste, my healing community
/~gassho~\
Beau
aka
Dale [valley-dweller] Anthony [of inestimable worth, finder of the lost] Joseph [guardian of my sacred four, my family: Rebecca, Sam, Lorna and I] Beaulieu [a beautiful place]
~
Grandmother, accept this offering.
~
DAJB
