Cultivating Spiritual Practice: June 2020

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.

Thursday, June 18, 2020

Come sit

Come sit in a flute,

near my root,

catch your breath

then be still.

Don't be shocked

by the sound of a heartbeat,

or worried by laughter in the air.

Remnants of visitors hang everywhere.

Refresh, take a nap,

sit in silence.

No shoulds allowed

anywhere near here.

But if you love magic,

hang around with eyes wide,

behold, the spirits will dance tonight.

Wednesday, June 10, 2020

Turning love of ritual into daily prayer

My only serious practice of religion was at a lovely Episcopal Church in Eugene, Oregon in the 1970s. My husband at the time decided he would study religion and become a priest. I embraced his career move, became a parishioner, studied and was baptized and confirmed, and joined church life. It was an easy transition mostly because the conduct of the church matched my penchant for ritual and ceremony. I could be found at every Sunday evening service because I was enthralled with the sound of the plainsong choir in their brown, hooded, floor-length robes, the shiny sanctus bells that added exclamation points to the text, and the intoxicating smell of frankincense belched from the thurible waved among parishioners seated in the nave. I can still hear the clanking of the chain against the metal housing, and remember how alive and connected I felt afterward.

Someplace we can be free

"We are all longing to go home to some place we have never been — a place half-remembered and half-envisioned we can only catch glimpses of from time to time. Community. Somewhere, there are people to whom we can speak with passion without having the words catch in our throats. Somewhere a circle of hands will open to receive us, eyes will light up as we enter, voices will celebrate with us whenever we come into our own power. Community means strength that joins our strength to do the work that needs to be done. Arms to hold us when we falter. A circle of healing. A circle of friends. Someplace where we can be free."

Starhawk

Trees!

Trees supply most of the freshwater flow in the U.S. and clean our atmosphere by capturing airborne particles, carbon dioxide and other unhealthy gases. Healthy forests contribute to regular weather patterns and help combat drastic changes that come from global climate change. Trees shade our hikes, bike paths, fishing and hunting grounds and give families a place to picnic. Greener urban areas encourage social interaction between adults and are proven to deter graffiti, property and violent crime. And if that's not enough some tree parts are made into medicine. If you want to show gratitude to Pacha Mama, plant a tree!