Wind blows where it will.
You hear the sound,
and know not whence it came nor where it’s bound.
So it is with any of Spirit born.
What kind of spirit can bring you back to life?
There are people we know,
bound and bonded by grinding grievance,
compelled by forces of fear and disdain.
There are others,
liberated by fire without ire;
a twinkle of joy,
shining through sorrow
that erupts in magnanimous generosity.
There are gale forces
and there are
softly spoken promises
that breathe us back together.
He breathed over them saying, ‘Receive the Spirit Holy.’John 20:22
Even in a stagnant sea,
a lithe and feral spirit
in the deep swims free.
Out of stardust and cosmic debris,
out of failure and loss,
out of despairing depths,
an untamable, irrepressible,
groans to breach the surface.
The Celts of old,
like endangered indigenous
inextricably woven through
a tartan tapestry of being.
The power of imagination makes us infinite.
When we tug at a single thing in nature,
we find it attached to the rest of the world …
So into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.John Muir
Most people are on the world, not in it …
In wildness lies the hope of the world.
Persistent and enduring
Spirit still inspires sentience
and brings being freshly and freely to life.
that illuminates day,
and seeds timeless dark with sparkles,
ageless interactions and explosive obliterations
broadcast elemental energy to fertilize the void
and bring us to this shimmering moment.
We lose our soulsThomas Berry
if we lose the experience of the forest,
the song of the birds
if we can’t see the stars at night.
To those of wild wind born
the desecration of the great green
reflects a sickness of soul,
a fundamental lack
that betrays a refusal to recognize
and reverence holy kinship
in miraculous emanation.
For environmental devastation surely follows nature deprivation.
I am Wind on Sea,Song of Amergin
I am Ocean-wave,
I am Roar of Sea,
I am Stag of Seven Tines,
I am Hawk on Cliff ….
Such unfreedom is a byproduct
of beings ungrounded,
imprisoned in the isolation of individualism.
Calibrated by electronic information,
life and livelihood is no longer synchronized
to cycles of seedtime and harvest, fall and fallow.
Infected by otherworldly pieties,
that seek to flee a “vale of tears”
for a higher, purer plane,
adherents gaze heavenward,
encouraged to disregard
(soiled, dirty, mucky, base) earth and her beasts.
Such disembodied devotions
render religiosity cerebral and
fearfully disparage earthy fertility as seductive and sinful.
The radical remedy
offered by folk well-grounded in wilderness
is the liberating embrace of holy creaturehood.
May you recover the holy ground of being,
breathe a freshness to blow your mind
and set free your love for this lovely world.