Every morning when I reach down to touch the earth and connect with her deep strength, some prayer comes spontaneously to my lips. The very act of squatting or bending over is humbling, and reminds me of kneeling in a church. Except this is not rote. There is no "should" here, no prescription - just desire for connection, desire for repeated contact, desire for a small ritual that opens me to something fuller*. Touching the earth every day is the beginning; what comes next is spontaneous. This dawn prayer is close to what I spoke yesterday morning. The sense I had of riding the spinning earth towards light stayed with me all day, and I try to recapture it here. The last two lines are often how I end.
Mother, somehow I feel you turn toward the sun.
Hold me, as I hold on to you,
As you hold all of us who ride on you.
In my roots I feel the nestling of earthworms, voles and acorns.
As I stand, I feel a brush of breeze on my cheek
And wish I could hold your touch there,
Just for a moment, loved.
Instead I press my hands into your wet meadow grass --
Good morning Goldfinch! Good morning Blue Jay! Good morning crickets! --
And wait
Together
Feeling the rise of gratitude
With the oncoming light.
May the work I do in the world today be the work of spirit;
May the energy of the earth pass through me to all beings today.
*Maybe church liturgies did start this way; this is something to ponder.
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