My fingers, cramping with frost, ache for a hot cup of coffee. The upper reaches of the canyon are already bathed in brilliance, while I wait in the shadows for the slanting rays to bring me comfort on a cold morning.
A woman’s voice cries out on the mesa as sunlight reaches her circle. Awake all through the starry night, she held to her resolve to live with power. Warming herself by the heat of her purpose, she blew on the smoldering coals of her passion to bring it back to life. She kindled a fire, fed an inner flame, and lit a lamp to guide her in the dark times ahead.
Seven souls faced four days alone in these hills and hollows without food or shelter. They entered the wild that it might enter them. They feasted on the elements and lived on the nutrients that nature gave to their hearts. Bless them, Great Mystery. Watch over them here and on their journey home, and guide them as they enter the deserts and barren landscapes of ordinary life. Sustain them when tired or lonely; return them to their compass at times they feel lost. Help them to walk in balance through daily existence, moving with the stealth of a hunter or the strong steps of a warrior. Aid them in reweaving the web of life, mending what has been broken, and creating a home where spirit may grow. May they carry your wildness and wilderness, and be wary of all the chains and cages that try to entrap them.
There are few truly new stories in life. Most have been told many times before. The great tales of heroes and heroines are metaphors, maps for us to follow, trails blazed through the labyrinths and landscapes of psyche, self, and world. Some must face dragons and monsters — angry brutes, seductive sirens, evil stepmothers, or a wicked witch. Others wander lost and search for the way home. Many seek gold, greatness, or fabled fountains that will bring renewed life or color to the world. One is imprisoned, bound by chains, and yearns to be free, while another labors to lift a curse or awaken from sleep.
This succulent and sunlit morning the birds are singing. We will never know what they are saying with their sweet and simple songs, but it is enough that beauty erupts full-blown from their throats. These serenades ride on the wind and can lift our spirits and stimulate wings to sprout in our souls.
The slanting sunlight brings gold to the meadow. I live to see another blessed day with these eyes. Grasses and seed stalks shine in the light. Strings of spiders emerge and disappear in sparkling profusion, spreading scattered slices of rainbows that span the spaces between sagebrush.
I feel held and at home in the arms of the proud pinion I lean against. The breeze touches my body with a cooling caress. The cactus blooms, and beavertail and prickly pear weave tender garlands into their crown of thorns. New flowers thrust themselves up from the soil on stems of dusky rose. A great river roars in the distance. Life goes on.
Love is streaming all throughout the world, and there is enough for everyone. It arrives in sunlight, cloud, and a million mysterious and simple ways. The spheres spin on their axes, and creation continues throughout the seasons and cycles. There was never any original sin or need to leave the Garden. We can turn or return to it, for this is our dwelling place. We are of the earth. Our mother and father love us. We belong here. We are joined to all life, a single strand in its intricate web. We can be held and healed, rest in its hammock, and pluck its strings to create wonderful music.
Praise be to creation! Open yourself to this world! Let the sun shine in your center; let the rhythm of raven’s wings carry you across the distances to your destination. The sound of the drum calls us home to where the heart is. Feel its beating! The journey is complete only when the hero returns, and it takes enthusiasm, passion, and the innocent eyes of a child to come upon the kingdom again.
There’s only one way into heaven, and that’s to find it on earth. Tread on the soil and lift your gaze to the sky. It is here, on the earth, that we must live, walk, and dance. The circle moves. Come join the dance! Our spirits will rise as our feet hit the ground…. for this ground of being is the foundation of life, the basis of all under-standing.
A hunter, a warrior, a person of power, a native, a wilderness lives in each of us. This is your birthright, your indigenous soul, your authentic self. Sing, dance, celebrate, and fight for that native. Raise your voice and follow the call of the wild.
12/2014, Sparrow Hart