returning home

to the cosmic seed of our beginnings, a prayer

I am, sometimes, in this present moment, remembering myself, as a past to a future of great global harmony.

photographer unknown, Africa

Remembering myself, two-directionally Now, as an acupuncture needle in the flesh of a false culture whose global deception and spiritual warfare has indoctrinated generations into a forgetfulness so subtle and pervasive, we call it by the names of “progress” or “freedom” and believe it is good for us.

I see myself Now as a stepping stone towards a future of humanity’s true right relation: to self, community and cosmos; a world where innovation is inspired by social harmony, not born of dysfunction and trauma remediation.

I see myself as an oftentimes wounded volunteer, walking through the scalding fumes of artificial life and carefully plotted social lies, and, having breathed in that smoke, am also healing the burn marks of forgetfulness within my own heart.

And, for better or worse, I can’t seem to follow anyone’s rules but my own. There must be, in that apparent rebellion, seeds of alliance with mother earth, because she keeps pulling me closer and closer.

Indian Mud Huts

Yesterday I saw dragons in the smoke.

Today my daughter sleeps in the tipi while I whisper prayers into tree resins and throw them on the hot coals.

We are, now, to remember. Shake off the wool of forgetfulness, embody our divinity, our purpose, our cosmic selves. We are to invoke the spiritual remembrance of the sovereignty of earth. Of cloud. Of mountain.

We are to invoke the restoration of earth’s medicine paths: condensation, precipitation, absorption. Migrations of hoof, star and moon.

We are to incarnate cosmic wisdom, harmony and culture as we extract our consciousness from the artificial grid and back into Gaia’s breathing Life matrix.

Each incarnation definitely, definitely has a purpose.

I remember myself Now as a past to a future where we don’t have to say things like that; where those kinds of understandings are woven into the fabric of our hearts as children, as basic as gravity and sunrise.

Today, I am concentrating by imagining the footpaths of my descendants, cocooned in wildflowers and fruit trees, wetlands and a living legacy of the sacred infinite.

photographer unknown, African