Spirituality

It is life, time for breathing deep, sighs and touching without fingers. Hummingbirds whizzing by my ears, the striking fear of that buzzing sound, so large and loud. Only they can scare me.

Ground squirrels like the cutest babies, curious and bold. Sitting on their tails, eating seeds so fast, my eyes water while trying to behold their skills. Oh my heart loves to be there with them. They like me to see them. They say " hey mister, I remember you from the cold winter" So frosty then, now the lushness, the verdant, and prolific species of our Mother.

I walk the trails, alone, looking for other signs. Signs of man from a distant time. People who understood the tempo and rythm of her heart. Beating in time with some unknown syncopated clock.

Their arrowhead fragments are like neon signs to me. Some tell me, they have looked for all their lives, with not a sight of one. The smell of the earth tells me where they are. Something different about that place, you know, where they were.

They lived, died, and were reborn right in the same places for countless generations. Why wouldn't it smell and look different. Yet, somehow they understood the breathing of Her. She coughed, they ran. She cried, they stood under it and consoled Her, all the while, bathing themselves in Her tears. honored citizens of Her kingdom.

Those people counted themselves, fortunate. It was an honor to live and be a part of the Mother, whom they called the Earth. A priveledge, can you understand this.

If not, then consider this. Today, we walk right by the flowers that were once the life, medicine, and luxury of a long gone civilization. The old ones are gone. They seem to have taken the blessing of the Mother with them.

Animals, seems like someone said that, we have dominion over them. Words written and deduced by a man. We don't think that way, well, many of us. We agree with the philosophy that we are a part of the Earth. As our fourlegged, and winged Brothers and Sisters exist with us, not for us.

It is there on the prairie of Prophetstown that I can feel those old ways seeping relentlessly into my bones. I am more concerned now that I stand, in the four seasons with the animals. I watch them live and die. Somehow, I live and die with each one of them, daily.

It is now, that, I can see so clearly what many of us have lost through our modern lives. Callous and unobserving, cold and distracted, no wonder I find so many people, who can't seem to find their way in life. They are out there looking somehow, instinctively, coming to the prairie. They are trying to find a world which has not left us, but, one who is unseen by the many.

I kneel on the Earth, soft, loving and enveloping my soul. Warmth and kindness ooze from Her pores as I pray to my Creator. Humbled by my diminuative being before Him. She holds me in Her loving embrace like the wonderful Mother holds Her child. World, I can not express the great fortune that has befallen me on her Prairie.

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