For the old ones used to say
The stories have been told in whispers down through the ages around campfire circles and even today intimated around certain dinner table gatherings But nowhere spoken more softly were these…
The stories have been told in whispers down through the ages around campfire circles and even today intimated around certain dinner table gatherings But nowhere spoken more softly were these…
I would tell you I did not ask for this gift but that is not precisely true Far more accurate I suppose is that I did not trust Life enough…
I know you have been suckling the Milk of Life at Gaia’s breasts from her tender generous nipples your entire life since before the moment you first placed naked feet…
This aliveness you feel sense and love As your bare feet learn to again kiss the soil That you hunger for the growing vitality of This beauty you return to…
And spread branches of gratitude and wonder and curiosity
Drawn like a lover
Enchanted by a negligee of mist and clouds above
To the sacred chamber where Light and Darkness
Intimately entwine as One within my being
Reflecting the unspeakable marvels and lessons
Of Birth Death and Rebirth forever anew once more
For the Ancestors — and the Children That I am enough Oh this feeling of sufficiency in the world Oh this intimate knowledge of one’s innate belonging Oh this resting…
There is an innate hunger within It is not meant to sentence you to loneliness To be a curse of sorrow depression and despair Rather it is a gift from…