I didn't grow up in a church community, though I had a brief love affair with the ritual I found in an Episcopal church in Oregon in my twenties. My legitimate quest to create a spiritual practice was birthed in middle age by borrowing from the Buddhist practice of mindfulness, and the strong connection I felt for the worship of the Earth as taught us by our first nations. In Native American cultures The Great Spirit is a deity intertwined with the fabric of the Universe and the web of the life on Earth. It wasn't until recent years I discovered my Wiccan roots and the pre-Christian possibility that my ancestors were Earth worshippers. When I started this journey I worried because I didn’t know how to pray. Turns out we all know how to pray through our love of and gratitude for the gifts of life. This vault is for those who, like me, hunger for a spiritual practice and are learning to braid their own.

Monday, July 24, 2017

Presence on the prairie, act II


How long has it been since you dragged yourself from your warm bed before daybreak, pulled on boots and hiked along a rocky ridge to a perch on top of your world, just to witness the Sun’s optimistic rise . . .

felt the curve of the Earth beneath your sit bones, sat quiet and still on the dirt, savored the evening’s perfect light . . .

stumbled over a mound of bunch grass, flushed a sparrow from its nest and investigated, just for the joy of laying eyes on the hand-crafted basket and two tawny bundles inside . . .


spent a week sleeping on the ground, in the company of coyotes singing to the moon, nestled in the cradle of your Mother’s arms?

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