A small seed sowed in the field. I am back to the part of darkness in
my prayer. As the seed opens in the ground, so the soul opens in the
ground, in the dark. Over the last decade, with each faltering step I
took into this darkness, my prayer — a prayer of no words — found
deeper roots. This way of prayer is the dark way of silence. This way
takes leave of discourse, of the mind, and turns to the heart, the
dwelling place of God.
~ from CIRCLING TO THE CENTER by Susan M. Tiberghien
EARTH teach me stillness
As the grasses are stilled with light.
EARTH teach me suffering
As old stones suffer with memory.
EARTH teach me humility
As blossoms are humble with beginning.
EARTH teach me caring
As the mother who secures her young.
EARTH teach me courage
As the tree which stands all alone.
EARTH teach me limitation
As the ant who crawls on the ground.
EARTH teach me freedom
As the eagle who soars in the sky.
EARTH teach me resignation
As the leaves which die in the fall.
EARTH teach me regeneration
As the seed which rises in spring.
EARTH teach me to forget myself
As melted snow forgets its life.
EARTH teach me to remember kindness
As dry fields weep with rain.
~ from the poetry of the Ute Native American Indians with thanks to Pat Drypolcher
