Dear Ancestors, Earth and Future Ones,
My work,
my words,
my actions,
and my dance
are no longer mine.
They are Yours.
I am your vessel now.
Use me until there is
nothing left
but
bones and spirit.
Let my hands be your hands.
Let me see through your eyes.
Let my lips and heart speak truth.
May my actions be forever
rooted in love.
We are all held,
We are always held,
We are in all ways held
by the web of life.
Isn’t that the most fabulous news you’ve heard all day?
The birds think so because they can’t stop singing!
Let me say it again
in case you didn’t hear it the
first, second or third time around.
We are all held by the web of life.
We can never fall out and so,
therefore we must risk
everything.
There is nothing to lose,
nor anything to gain,
but there is everything to love.
We are inextricably woven by threads of starlight.
Hand-spun like nobody’s business.
A business in which there is no profit to be made,
and no workers exploited in the weaving.
The label on our back reads
“Made in the Milky Way.”
The new instructions say:
Hand wash only in the river of life.
Let hang dry under the light of the moon,
and if there is no moon, then
dance in the darkness.
Spin spirals around all your relations.
Whirl in prayer like a Sufi.
While you’re at it,
fling water droplets off your skin
in every direction.
Provide drink to those who are thirsty.
Dig deep
with your comrades
and build a well,
held in trust by the commons.
where all can be nourished and
all have a voice.
Fall softly to the earth like rain.
Sink down to your knees and let loose
your grief tears,
your joy tears,
your i-don’t-know-who-i-am tears
so that each one can flow
like an ancient river and
give life to the ones who will follow.
It is time to know
who you are.
It is time to know
who we are.
It is time for us to sing our song
as if all life depends on it.
Because, my friends,
the time has come.
And all life depends on it.