- Clyde Hall
- Emma Pohipe Dann
- Charles Lawrence
- Bear Boy LaRose
- Reginald and Gladys Laubin
- Corbin Harney
- Interview With White Eagle
- Haudenosaunee Thanksgiving Address
- Learning From The Elders
- Respecting Indian Tradition
- Tenne Wapp
- About Prayer
- Faith – Prayer – Action
- Gifts of Community
- Engaging Great Mystery
- Giving Back To Spirit
May the Wind breathe healing upon us,
prolong our life-span,
and fill our hearts with comfort!
You are our father, O Wind,
our friend and our brother.
Give us life that we may live.
From that immortal treasure, O Lord,
which is hidden in your abode,
impart to us that we may live.”
— The Vedas
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
— Wendell Berry
Great Mystery, awaken our hearts!
Break us open and bring us back
from crazed and numb self-destruction!
Bring us together, overflowing with love
and daring to believe we are never too late
and no action is ever too little!
Let us feel the ocean of love moving through us,
the strength of our ancestors lifting us up,
the yearning of our descendent’s to be born
in a more beautiful and peaceful world,
and a fierce and unrelenting determination
to recognize our blind spots,
face our fears,
remember our deepest truths,
hold the highest possible vision
of ourselves and each other,
and give everything we’ve got
to creating a world
where people have
clean water, fresh air, nourishing food,
safety, dignity, hope, purpose and love.
Great Mystery, Awaken us now!
— Hunter Flournoy
When the hummingbird
sinks its face
into the trumpet vine
and the funnels
of the blossoms,
and the tongue
I am scorched
to realize once again
how many small, available things
are in the world
pieces of gold
that nobody owns
or could buy even
for a hillside of money–
float about the world,
or drift over the fields,
or into the gardens,
and into the tents of the vines
and how here I am
spending my time,
as the saying goes,
watching until the watching turns into feeling
so that I feel I am myself
a small bird
with a terrible hunger
with a thin beak probing and dipping
and a heart that races so fast
it is only a heartbeat ahead of breaking
and I am the hunger and the assuagement
and also I am the leaves and the blossoms,
and, like them, I am full of delight and shaking
— Mary Oliver
Masters of stillness, masters of light, who,
when cut by something falling, go nowhere and heal, teach me this nowhere,
who, when falling themselves, simply wait to root in another direction, teach me this falling.
Four hundred year old trees,
who draw aliveness from the earth like smoke from the heart of God,
we come, not knowing you will hush our little want to be big;
we come, not knowing that all the work is so much busyness of mind;
all the worry, so much busyness of heart.
As the sun warms anything near,
being warms everything still and the great still things that outlast us
make us crack like leaves of laurel releasing a fragrance that has always been.
— Mark Nepo