Foxes have holes,Matthew 8:20
birds of the air have nests,
finds no place to lay its head.
Where do you find restful restoration?
Being schooled in the art of becoming human
by tribal villagers
in the Amazonian heartland,
I learned an ancient truth
heretofore known only
to my primal forest-dwelling minders,
that this wooded, now-threatened expanse
is no accidental wilderness,
but rather the fruit of eons of deliberate, careful cultivation.
Imperceptibly, over uncountable seasons,
indigenous communities, in symbiotic collaboration,
shaped dense forest into lush, overabundant garden.
Woven into the weft
of this evergreen tapestry,
humans became integral balancers of interbeing.
Ethnobotanists attest that
wherever such original inhabitants
are removed from ancestral habitats,
forest, river, and mountains suffer,
and shocked motherland mourns her helpers.
The natural world is the maternal source of our being…Thomas Berry
the larger sacred community to which we belong.
To be alienated from this community is to become destitute
in all that makes us human.
Our self-inflicted extinction looming,
we wrestle with the existential question:
who are we becoming?
Facing a consequential crisis of identity
myriad daily decisions affect the quality of life,
ours and every other in the global garden.
And it is our most endangered indigenous kin,
guardians of planetary biodiversity,
who tend that narrow trail to human reclamation.
Scattered small-scale societies, sprung from soil,
cry out to us to cease and desist
from wanton devastation
and reclaim our birthright
as blessing rather than blight
on the face of the earth.
Why is it taking so long to believeDavi Kopenawa Yanomami
that if we hurt Nature
we hurt ourselves?
Through story, ritual, and timeless practice,
artfully they illuminate intimate relationships
within a sacred web of interconnection,
re-minding us that the root and remedy
for chronic, soul-deep alienation
and restless homesickness
lies beneath our soles
before our eyes
and the tips of our fingers.
Everything that is in the heavens,Hildegard von Bingen
on the earth, and under the earth,
is penetrated with connectedness,
penetrated with relatedness.
Like most of our kindred creatures,
human beings arrive
naked and needy.
The lifelong pilgrimage into personhood
requires regular inoculations from
the hubris of self-infatuated mastery,
for the wholeness we sorely seek
will not be found
in fruitless attempts at delusional dominion.
Before we can become who we really are,Thomas Merton
we must become conscious of the fact
that the person who we think we are,
here and now, is at best an impostor and a stranger.
In a geological blink we find ourselves on the brink,
rudely awakening to the reality
that, beyond continued co-existence,
our soul-scape is defined by
how deeply we are willing to fall in love with,
to live into, and to learn from the very ground of our being.
No matter where wandering takes you,
sauntering on Sante Terre, may you
reverence holy ground, ever ready to welcome you home.
Pilgrim feet find home,Joe Grant, Scratchings
each step gracing Holy Land
where sole touches soil.
Scratchings is so much more than a collection of poetry and reflective verse. It is eye-opener, mindfulness-maker, veil-lifter, kinship-keeper. It is a portal into the sacred arising through the ordinary, an entryway into the soul-full-ness of every single thing. Joe’s in-sight and perception not only show us, they teach us: scratch the surface of any single thing and, indeed, you’ll find it lit from within; only “pay dues of attention” to any experience and you’ll find burning bushes at every turn. If you’re wanting a quick read, opt for a different book; if you want to linger with life and swim out into mystery, let Scratchings be your companion.
- JoAnn Gates, Director of Knobs Haven Retreat Center, Loretto, Kentucky