Blooming Pebbles

Each breath is a step towards Death

Yet we take for granted the breath

not the inevitable destination.

Remembering to breathe is acknowledging life

It is the act of inflating our lungs

with air that has formed words

of love

of hate

of anger and grief

Exhaling out our life’s resistance

to succumb to a fate

written finitely on the pebble

which blooms as our gravestones

in our final hour of mortal coil.

Daily Rituals

Kawphy Time and Morning Prayers

Each day I make a fresh cup of Kawphy (familial spelling handed down from my Grandfather (Bapa) on my mother’s side). I have one of my friends over, or I call my Bestie, or I call my mother before the first sip is tasted.

When my partner has their cup at the ready, I recite this prayer:

To your ancestors
To my ancestors
From my spirit
to your spirit
to OUR spirit
Thank you Grand Rapids Fire Department
Bless this holy water.

Context: My Great-Grandfather and my Grandfather both worked for the GRFD. It is common family belief that the next part of the ritual originated at their place of service.

Then we both take a noisy first sip and in unison say:

Ahhh, Nectar of the Gods!

The morning ritual is complete. I did this every day with my mother, but she doesn’t always remember. My Bestie has taken up the ritual as a way for us to start our day together.

Gratitudes

At the end of the day Jen, the aforementioned Bestie, would sit with her son and they would do “Gratitudes.” It’s a truly sweet ritual. One evening she was lamenting that her son had already gone to bed and asked if I’d do them with her.

Absolutely! We take turns sharing thing we’re grateful for either in our lives or during the day we’ve just had. I asked if we could do three external (meaning things that happened or we did) and one internal (positive things about who we are). She agreed.

Today, for example, I am grateful for my gift of wordsmithing, of being able to meet people where they are, for my friends, and for my parents still being available.

Once we’ve both stated the things, we complete the ritual with:

We are grateful for these things and so many more.

I wanted to share them with you because they’re important parts of my day. Which daily rituals do you honor? What helps you live the life you’re building with gratitude?

Campfire confessions

Grounding one’s heart
on the hearth of a campfire
recommitting branched souls to dust
smoldering with barely seen confessions
blazing with a lust to remain relevant
extinguished by time
returned to the mother

Rejuvenation

A walk in the wild wood timber
When the leaves have all blown down
The wintery wind whips omens
Of the King who’s lost his crown
No longer sanctified or honored
Or otherwise enshrined
The gloom embraces obscurity
Elemental slumber consigned
Deep beneath the gloaming soil
The spark of life remains
Guided by the ancient ways
A labor of growing pains
For when the woods again awaken
And the leaves return to green
The King will once again be born
His life, again, be seen

Revolution

The winds of change do not blow lightly
They are destructive, devastating, overwhelming
But they are necessary to create stronger; better
My feet are rooted in the mountain
My eyes are drinking in the sky
My arms are outstretched to embrace the shift
My thighs are heated for battle
My belly hungry for the crusade
My chest is bare, unafraid and unaffected
As I breathe in the promise of new dawn
I exhale revolution of heart and mind
Calling my sisters and brothers
As thunderous as a siren’s song

Into this life.

Into this body.

Into this time.

My nature

It is in my nature to return to nature
Nurturing my spiritual gifts
Reveling in loam and water
Allowing my soul to tendril
Deep into the rocky soil
Pulling the wisdom into my hands
Pushing out that which no longer serves
Light and dark are the same
Intuition singing a celestial choir
Feeling in my bones the pulsation
The undulation of the Universe
Welcoming the power that is mine
Acknowledging the sacrifices made
On my behalf before I was born
Into this life.
Into this body.
Into this time.

Behind the Blinders

To the face I did not know
The one whose name is clandestine
Spoken whispers, just below hearing
Your breath did not share my space
I never knew your laughter
Nor could I recognize your voice
Your eyes and mine have never met
But I grieve the loss of you.
The you were human, like me.
The you who had happiness and sorrow
The you who was quiet or loud
The you who was every bit as breathing as I am
The you who was every bit as worthy of love
The you who was every bit as alive
You were invaluable to the fabric of the Universe
I stand as witness that you existed
I attest to your right to dignity as a human being
May love now surround you with grace and mercy.