Wednesday Meditations

Still now our nervous heart, Spirit of life, calm the flutter of our breathing, for we are in a vulnerable place, and find ourselves seeking the scent of the air, a community grown uncertain, as afraid of running as standing still. This is why we need you, Spirit of all creation. We need you to stand in our midst, to be seen in our midst, as clearly as possible, our champion and our hope, not to face this struggle for us, but to remind us why we are facing it for ourselves. We need your strength, Old One, we need your reassurance. Still now our nervous heart. Calm our breathing. For we are resolved: we are neither running away nor standing still. We are turned to the wind, looking ahead to see what tomorrow brings. We are moving forward, knowing we are walking with angels, growing stronger with each minute that passes. (Steven Charleston) 

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Bless This Land
by Joy Harjo

Bless this land from the top of its head to the bottom of its feet

From the arctic old white head to the brown feet of tropical rain

Bless the eyes of this land, for they witness cruelty and kindness in
this land

From sunrise light upright to falling down on your knees night

Bless the ears of this land, for they hear cries of heartbreak
and shouts of celebration in this land

Once we heard no gunshot on these lands; the trees and stones can be heard singing

Bless the mouth, lips and speech of this land, for the land is a
speaker, a singer, a keeper of all that happens here, on this land

Luminous forests, oceans, and rock cliff sold for the trash glut
of gold, uranium, or oil bust rush yet there are new stories to be
made, little ones coming up over the horizon

Bless the arms and hands of this land, for they remake and restore
beauty in this land

We were held in the circle around these lands by song, and
reminded by the knowers that not one is over the other, no
human above the bird, no bird above the insect, no wind above the grass

Bless the heart of this land on its knees planting food beneath the
eternal circle of breathing, swimming and walking this land

The heart is a poetry maker. There is one heart, said the poetry
maker, one body and all poems make one poem and we do not
use words to make war on this land

Bless the gut labyrinth of this land, for it is
the center of unknowing in this land

Bless the femaleness and maleness of this land, for each holds the
fluent power of becoming in this land

When it was decided to be in this manner here in this place, this
land, all the birds made a birdly racket from indigo sky holds

Bless the two legs and two feet of this land, for the sacred always
walks beside the profane in this land

These words walk the backbone of this land, massaging the tissue
around the cord of life, which is the tree of life, upon which this
land stands

Bless the destruction of this land, for new shoots will rise up from
fire, floods, earthquakes and fierce winds to make new this land

We are land on turtle’s back—when the weight of greed overturns
us, who will recall the upright song of this land

Bless the creation of new land, for out of chaos we will be
compelled to remember to bless this land

The smallest one remembered, the most humble one, the one
whose voice you’d have to lean in a thousand years to hear—we
will begin there

Bless us, these lands, said the rememberer. These lands aren’t our
lands. These lands aren’t your lands. We are this land.

And the blessing began a graceful moving through the grasses
of time, from the beginning, to the circling around place of time,
always moving, always