Ring of heart
There's a song the old ones sing
Of brilliant fields and colored sand
With the reach of all who know
Ring of heart and healing hands
There's a plea the old ones say
Keep the power with the land
Place the shield in protection of
The spirit of the band
Prayer for Mother Earth
I call on the great wisdom of the earth to guide and protect me
To take me as I am and nurture me, my belly lay flat against your desert
To open my roots of strength half hidden but knowable
To show me my allies and guide me
I humbly offer my open heart and knowledge of the infinite goodness
Eternal tenderness and mysterious creation from energy to form
I accept my path with its obstacles and challenges
I see my reflection in the clear desert lake as a healer/changer and hope
that I may reach those waters
My blood will run freely in my body as clear mountain streams
My thoughts will be as the bubbles that form a flow on the surface
My love will be fierce as windstorms and tender as the smallest "forget me not"
And when the ground beneath my feet crumbles and I am falling and lost in fear,
I will hold to the wisdom of the soft eternal breezes
In the midst of fear I will find a whispering voice from within that will have me look towards the light that is the hand of Grace, ready to ease my heartache and
heal my fall.
Let the earth be my mother, let my true nature be free
Walking softly on the earth
Walk in beauty she said. These were her last words as we left the gathering. I interpreted this statement differently three decades ago than I do today.
I discovered through experience that shamanism existed. The practice has taken me through a rich process of healing or cleansing that only the good earth can offer. She said it would be a powerful walk – one that only good spirit could hold. How I begged to not be engaged in this way– the immense power and responsibility are so much to bare. I travelled far and still they anointed me. Through the first years of service I enjoyed the revelation. How prayer and practice detailed an assignment of care. Most clients relished the hope of learning simple rattle practice, where beauty was the product of heartfelt consciousness. My sacred name - given in ceremony long ago - told of an ancient matriarchal way – a path that women know instinctively - a way of care for community and elders.
When this view of Shamanism is accepted – the healing process in community is continual. Regardless of what transpires, collective works to maintain a way of humility and respect for the good earth and the wisdom of old.
In a fragmented world, this view is challenging as it paints complexity. This way of work cannot hold without the whole. As I look to the fields – admire the resiliency of the earth I live on – I know she will dictate the call regardless. And those designated will hear. It’s like that shamanism. You can’t ignore the practicality and ingenuity that feeds all.