All Our Relations

Healing Our Relationships
With The Community of Life

Pomo Burden Basket

November 22, 2020

Before we begin…there’s something I want to share with you.  In every indigenous culture I know, including the Choctaw Nation of my biological father’s heritage, it is important to begin and end every address to the people, and every public prayer, with the phrase “all our relations.” It gets changed to “all my relations,” if one is praying alone.  This is part of the way in which indigenous people orient themselves in the community of all life:  as relatives among other equally important relatives, rather than as lords of all they survey.

So:  Great Spirit of Life and Love that flows through all the universe, people of this Beloved Community, and all our relations, may my words bring healing to all hearts who hear them today.

When I was in college, in a social psychology class, I saw a documentary called “Down on the Farm.”    It was all about the devastating impacts of modern agriculture on ecosystems and farm workers: the soil erosion, water and air pollution, habitat destruction, human health effects.  I was galvanized!  I suddenly knew my purpose in life:  to develop agricultural systems that would be sustainable.  That would build soil, sequester carbon, improve wildlife habitat, clean up water and air, and result in healthy human communities.  Everybody eats, and I could not think of a single thing more important or useful to do than help them do it sustainably. So off I went to graduate school.

Well, after a few years of learning about ecology and farming, I had come to believe that there was no way to grow food for humans that did not have serious ecological impacts.  Even small scale organic farming changed the structure and function of the landscape, and harmed wildlife populations.  In places like California, where large-scale irrigation was necessary, this was doubly true.  Modern humans were just bad news for ecosystems, taking all the primary productivity for ourselves and leaving nothing for the other creatures of the earth.

These were the beliefs taught by the best environmental scientists in our country, along with the idea that when Europeans arrived in the Americas, they found a vast wilderness “untrammeled by man.”  Indigenous peoples had lived there in small bands of roving hunter-gatherers, but they didn’t really count, and anyway, they were all gone now.  The best way to keep islands of biodiversity alive, the thinking went, was to preserve them with wilderness status.  Humans were inherently rapacious and could not be trusted to take care of the land, so we should keep the untrained and undeserving out of any place we wanted to preserve.  Only those who had the right knowledge and commitment—the scientists—should be allowed in.

Despite my understanding that agriculture was an inherently harmful activity, or perhaps because of it, I determined that we could at least reduce its impacts.  We could at least improve its sustainability.  So that was my work for 20 years.  And in all that time, I carried a weight of grief and shame and fear and anger so heavy that finally it dragged me to the ground.  Humans were bad for the earth, and I was a human, and no matter what I did or didn’t do, I was causing harm to some other being somewhere else.  I came to a place where I lost all hope.

Now I want to pause here—we’ll come back in a moment—to say how interesting it is to me now how very like this set of beliefs is to the doctrines of sin taught by various Christian sects. The Christian doctrine of Original Sin, developed by St. Augustine in the 4th century, says that humans are born in a state of complete separation from the divine.[1]   Augustine believed that Jesus was sent to save humans from this state of separation; that Jesus’ death and resurrection would restore all believers to a state of unity with God after their death, and they would go to heaven.  In order to be restored, to be saved, a person had to be baptized in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  It’s important to note that not all Christians believed in this doctrine; Abelard wrote that it was a barbaric notion of God that did more damage to Christianity than any enemies of the church ever did.  But the doctrine of Original Sin provided justification for the project of Empire on the part of the Church and so it was accepted by the Roman Emperor Theodosius as sound.

A few centuries later, Calvinism took the concept of Original Sin and turned it into the idea of salvation of the elect.  In this doctrine, humans are understood to be entirely depraved and corrupt, with no capacity to bring good into the world—which itself was a place of nothing but evil and corruption.  Only a select few humans would go to heaven after death, while the others would be damned to hell for all eternity.  These so-called “elect” were chosen by God at the very beginning of time.  The way to tell who was saved and who was damned was to read the “signs.”  Prosperity was a sign of the elect.

Now the Puritans, who colonized New England, were Calvinists.  Imagine their shock when they encountered the indigenous peoples of the eastern American coast.

These peoples understood themselves as inherently good and beautiful, living in a good and beautiful world.  They understood themselves to be one kind of people among many.  There were the two-legged people and the four-legged people, the winged people and the swimming people, the crawling people, the tree people, the rock people, the cloud people, the stream and river people, the lake people.  Even more specifically, there were the Bear People and the Goose People and the Otter People and the maple people and the salmon people and the thunder beings… the list goes on and on. All of these peoples were part of one family, born of the union of earth and sky, and each kind of people had their own role in the family.  The way to flourish in this world was to care for one’s relatives—all of the other people in one’s human family, and all of the other peoples of the larger family.  To not care for one’s relatives would be to fall prey to a deadly sickness that endangered not only one’s own life, but all of life.  Harmony and balance among all of the relatives was paramount, and all decisions were made with this balance in mind for the next seven generations of the two-leggeds, the beings with the longest life span.

It was understood that some of the relatives in the family, like Deer and Rabbit, Salmon and Trout, Turkey and Grouse, Corn and Melon and Beans and Squash, had agreed to give their lives to others, in exchange for great honor and respect and gratitude. Hunters and fishers knew to never kill unnecessarily, and they and farmers knew never to waste a single particle of the bodies of the other relatives.  Ceremonies and dances honored the spirits of those relatives who gave their lives to others.  In this way balance was kept.  It was kept and it was actively loved.

Of course it’s important not to romanticize these people.  They were human just like all other humans, meaning of course there was jealousy and hatred and greed and rage and lust and the lust for power among them.  But these emotions were actively discouraged in children, and understood as sickness requiring treatment in adults.  If a person could not be successfully treated, they were cast out.  To be cast out was to be dead.  So the culture of seeing beauty in the balance among all of the relatives in the family of Earth was developed to a very high degree.

Imagine how shocking this was to the Calvinist Puritans, to meet people who loved their world, who loved themselves and each other, who sang songs of praise and gratitude every hour of every day, who ornamented their faces and bodies with bright colors, who laughed and sang while they worked, who danced and feasted and joked and played games and told stories for hours and sometimes even days at a time.

It was equally shocking to the Spanish conquistadores, steeped as they were in the doctrine of Original Sin, and the priests who followed them, in the southeastern part of North America, the southwest, and on the west coast.  The native peoples felt sorry for these dreary folks and treated them as if they were quite ill; how else could you explain their fever for gold?  Their belief that people were not already in a state of balance and beauty?  Their belief that the earth was a bad place, given with all its creatures to humans to dominate, and that pieces of it could be owned?  Yes, these people must be quite ill, so the natives took them in and treated them with great hospitality and kindness.  As Alice Walker has written, this turned out to be a mistake.

Now, to return to the story I began with, I was sick with the understanding that ecologically, humans could do nothing but bad.  Even though theologically, I was a Unitarian Universalist and rejected the doctrines of original sin and salvation of the elect, I had lost all hope, and I could barely function.

And then I encountered an ethnobotanist named Kat Anderson.  Kat spent her career studying the uses of plants by the indigenous peoples of California, with a particular focus on central California.  The first time I met her, she spoke of contemporary Patwin and Miwok women crisscrossing the Central and coastal valleys on traditional routes between traditional sites, gathering supplies to make baskets.  These women also cultivate traditional foods, like their grandmothers before them and their grandmothers before them.  Kat showed photographs of foods and meals the women prepare, of which she was invited to partake.  She said the foods are delicious, and when grown in the traditional ways, require very little water. Some, but very little.  I felt a tiny stirring of hope.  The native people and their lifeways were not gone from California, they were very much still here, and they knew how to make and grow everything they needed, sustainably! What’s more, they were willing to share what they know because it would help heal the world!

The next time I heard Kat speak, she spoke of research she did in the 1980’s and 1990’s in the central foothills of the Sierras, talking to tribal elders there.  This particular tribe had lived in those parts for thousands of years.  Their lands were not taken from them either by the Spanish or the Americans, because they were not particularly valuable for farming or grazing, and there was no gold.

The elders often lived to be over a hundred years old because they lived such a healthful life. Their main staple was acorns, but they also ate an enormous variety of other foods, from mushrooms to manzanita berries, from deer to rabbits to fish and crayfish.  They worked in groups, with a ceremonial song for every activity.  And here was the thing that stunned me: they intensively managed the ecosystems in which they lived.

They used controlled burning to maximize biodiversity, prevent catastrophic fires, keep big trees big, and keep forest duff from building up.  They used coppicing in some kinds of oak trees to maximize their acorn yields, but left others alone to maximize theirs. As a result, their lands boasted sugar pines 6 feet in diameter, and oak trees whose branches stretched 60 feet in every direction.  On the healthy forest floor, mushrooms and flowering plants grew in profusion–flowers being essential to everyone’s health and wellbeing.  In riparian areas, the people managed sedges and reeds and willows and redbud for basket materials.  They made a refreshing drink by running water over mashed manzanita berries.  The elders described the relationship they had with the community of life in which they lived as reciprocal and profoundly intimate.  They had a specific role in it, and so did all of their other relatives.  They kept certain grassy areas clear of trees so the deer and elk would flourish, and in return, the deer and elk gave them a few lives so they could flourish.  They tended the oak trees, and the oak trees gave them literally tons of acorns.

Once Kat was talking with an elder, and said, so the jays bury the acorns and then forget where they are, and that’s how the new trees get planted?  And the woman said, laughing, “They don’t forget, that’s their job!”

In her gorgeous book Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer writes of a study in which a grad student of hers was looking at the decline of sweetgrass populations in an area of northern New England.  Sweetgrass was commonly used by the local indigenous peoples for baskets and cordage. Some of the women who still gathered these grasses said it was important to harvest them in one way.  Others said it was important to harvest them in a different way.  The grad student compared the two methods to a control group that was not harvested at all.  The botany professors on her committee said well of course the one that is left alone will do the best; everyone knows that humans just damage everything and plants grow best when left alone.

But it turned out that that both methods of harvesting produced similar results in terms of plant growth and reproduction, and both produced much better results than leaving the plants alone.  Sweetgrass had co-evolved with humans; human interaction with them was essential for its survival.  The plants were declining because humans had left the relationship.

When Kat Anderson was interviewing those tribal elders, one woman spoke of how sad it is that so many modern people don’t go out gathering and tending the plants.  She said, “Nature loves us, and misses us.”

Nature loves us, and misses us.

The ecosystems in North America, it turns out, were not wildernesses untrammeled by man when white people arrived on this continent.  They were intensively managed by humans.  The people and plants and animals here co-evolved over thousands and thousands of years.  Human interaction with each ecosystem was essential to its function.   All of the fabulous beauty and richness and biodiversity that explorers and pioneers encountered when they arrived here were the direct result of human intelligence and understanding.  But human intelligence and understanding directed to a purpose that most European Americans have never understood:  the flourishing of all of the relatives in the family of beings.  The thriving of the whole community of life.

Nature loves us, and misses us.  Human beings can be agents of beauty and goodness.  The knowledge of how to manage ecosystems sustainably has been greatly diminished because of genocide, but it still exists.  The people who have this knowledge are still here.  They still live in every part of this country.  And they are offering us this knowledge because they know it is the key to the survival of not only our own species, but all of our relations.  May we be willing to learn from them.  May we be willing to change.

May it be so.  All our relations.  Blessed be.

[1] The concept of Original Sin is different from the concept of ordinary sin.  In English, the word “sin” comes from an old archery term meaning “missing the mark.” So to be a sinner is to be a person who misses the mark, in big and little ways.  In Spanish, the word translated into English as sin means something like mistake.  A sinner is then someone who makes mistakes.

Prayer on Easter Morning

Spirit of Life,
You who rise blossoming in our hearts
as well as in the wildflowers:

Now is the time when hundreds of species of birds
sing at the tops of their lungs,
the dawn chorus a symphony of joyous beauty.  A
nd hundreds of species of flowers show their bright colors.  

It is also the time when the earth’s creatures
begin to mate and lay eggs and give birth,
to hatch and to nurse
to consume vast quantities of food
in preparation for becoming.  

Lambs and kids frolic on hillsides and in pastures,
the very embodiment of joy.
Little green caterpillars hang from threads in oak trees.
Baby birds are big open beaks set in little balls of fuzz,
squawking to be fed.
Spring is a glorious time to be alive. 

And yet it is the most dangerous time of the year for younglings,
the time when they are most vulnerable to predation.
Hawks may eat the chicks of owls and vice versa.
Robins feed hundreds of green caterpillars to their babies.
Lambs are prey to a host of diseases.

Life here on this blue-green planet,
this little rock orbiting an ordinary star,
is so precarious.
Every species is food for another.
Even we get recycled.

We might think that this cycle of life and death and life again
is mysterious and difficult enough
for us to ponder with awe and fear.
Yet humans seem always to be able
to add more fear to the mix.
We Americans can’t know if our next trip to the grocery store
or a concert or a day at school or work
will end in bloody carnage.
Families of color must wonder every single day
if all of their members will come home.

And so we come together, week after week,
to cultivate love.
To remind each other that love is strong as death.
To remind each other that it is not a given
that terror will have the last word.
That there are other possibilities
we may not yet have imagined.  

We come together, week after week,
to be each other’s refuge.
To imagine new ways of being.
To be each other’s light.
To remind each other who we truly are:
beloved children of the universe.
To hold each other in love so strong and so deep
that there is no room in it for fear.

May we ever rest in this love. 

Blessed be.

In the Face of Such Beauty

Spirit of Life, mysterious energy that enlivens all beings:

Now is the time when rainclouds swathe the hillsides and then race away on cold winds.
Mossy trees backlit by bright sun are limned in green fire,
and water droplets on twigs shine like silver pearls.

The air is so fresh and clean that we cannot get enough of its sweetness.
We breathe in more deeply and more often
than is strictly necessary.

It seems impossible in the face of such beauty
that the drums of war should beat…
and yet they do.

That children should be in any danger at all…
and yet they are.

That so much life should be on the brink of collapse…
and yet it is.

In times like these, what can we do?  How can we live?

Help us open our hearts.

Help us open our hearts so wide and so deep
that when we look upon the suffering and danger all around us
we feel no fear, but only love and compassion.

Only love and compassion
which we then give away
the way you give us rain and sunlight and fresh sweet air—
freely, in abundance, with no hesitation and no holding back.

Help us open our hearts to love.

Blessed be.

Let Me Be Saved By Small Things

Spirit of Life, Radiant Mystery,
Source of all that is good and holy:
I confess to a certain weariness of spirit.

There seems to be no limit
to the number and kind
of terrible things
that humans will do

And people who should love one another
and speak with kindness
or at least civility
are shouting in rage
and flouncing away–
forever!–they say
from their circles of love and support.

What is to become of us?

I long to pray to an omnipotent god
who would fix all this
if we just said the right words

But since that is not an option
I take myself
to the running waters
and listen to their song.

I call my dear friend
and listen to their beautiful voice.

I sit with a four-year-old
and read our favorite story.

Salvation is not something grand
heralded with trumpets

It is instead effected by
a hundred small things:

The good dinner on a beautiful table,
a small child bouncing on your belly,
a dog chewing a bone against your leg.

The way water slides over smooth stone
over and over again but
never exactly
the same way twice.

The way the ravens converse
as they fly over the neighborhood
talking to each other
at the end of the day.

The way moss springs to life
the moment
it is touched
by rain.

Spirit of Life,
let me be saved by these small things.

Blessed be.

 

 

 

 

 

You… Shining (A Prayer for Yom Kippur)

Great Spirit of Life, Mysterious energy
that moves in and through all things:

Our old unwanted thoughts and habits
lie underfoot like the old leaves
that now begin to fall
on your hillsides.
We may have needed them once,
but no more.

Send the sweet rain
of Your love and compassion
that these old things
may be transformed
into rich soil for new growth.

And as feathery moss awakens
to the touch of rain,
and sends out new, seeking tendrils,
may we be made so fresh, and alive, and alert,
that when we look into each other’s faces
we see… You, shining.

Amen.

We Need Only Be

Spirit of Life,
Great immensity of love in which
we live and move and have our being:

Sometimes words fail.
Sometimes the catastrophe is so great
and the pain and fear and bewilderment
are so overwhelming
that we run out of things to say.
It feels impossible to pray.

In those times help us remember
that it is not our words
that connect us to you,
though they can help.
It is not our deeds
that connect us to you,
though they can help too.

No, it is rather that
we can never become disconnected.
Like a bird soaring on an updraft,
we need only be
and we are held in you.
We need only breathe,
and we breathe in you.

I breathe in God,
God breathes in me.
I breathe in Love,
Love breathes in me.

I rest in God,
God rests in me.
I rest in Love,
Love rests in me.

I move in God,
God moves in me.
I move in Love,
Love moves in me.

Help us remember:
we need only be,
and we are held in infinite love.

Blessed be.

God’s Porch

If you just lost everything in a fire
If the floods have taken it all away
If the diagnosis is worse
than anything you imagined
If the pain just won’t let up

If you are afraid for the life
of your grown-up child
If you can’t keep a baby growing
If your failing parent is far far away
And you can’t afford to travel

If you spend every day in the car outside
the worksite of your toddler’s father
singing to the baby and praying each moment
that ICE won’t come today

If you are hiding in the hills with no place to go
because the trailers for the workers
burned down

If you can’t go outside
without some jerk shouting comments
about every aspect of your body

If you fear for your life
when you see a police car
If you fear for the life of your son

If you worry every day
about what kind of world
this is for raising your children
If you’re scared of the man
with his hand on the button
If you’re afraid of what’s happening
to your marriage

Come to my house.

Come sit on the porch a while.

Look up at the trees. Listen to the quiet.
Allow peace to enter your heart.
A dragonfly darts to and fro above the yard
and butterflies silently flutter.
Hummingbirds drink from the feeders
and bees work in the clover.

There are wind chimes of metal
and one of bamboo
and they sway
sometimes sounding
in the breeze.

Come sit on the porch,
or lie down if you prefer.
We have many different kinds of chairs.
Breathe in the sweet air.
Gaze up into blue sky.
See the bright colors of the zinnias.

I will bring you something
delicious to drink
and if it is cool I will tuck you in
with a blanket

You can lie back and rest and relax
And just leave it all to me.

My love will wrap around you
and you will know you are safe
and nothing will ever hurt you
again.

Come sit on the porch a while.
Come on up and rest.

I am here waiting
just
for you.

Growing Together

Spirit of Life,
Great Immensity of Love that birthed the stars
and washes through our bodies
with every beat of our hearts:

Help us know you as the greening force
that pushes tender shoots through hard pavement.
They penetrate and then grow, and grow,
prying apart the hardest places.
Lush green life reclaims ugly surfaces.

May it be so in our own lives.
May we welcome in the seeds of love.
May we encourage them to take root.
May they take hold and pry apart
any hard casings on our hearts,
anything that separates us, one from another.

Cracked open, may we all weep
with one another’s sorrow.
May we all laugh
with one another’s joy.
May we grow together, our roots intertwined,
beautiful with the life we share.

Blessed be.

What is good and real and beautiful

A cellist in Sarajevo
once played for 22 days in a row
to honor 22 people who were killed by a mortar
as they waited in line for bread.

When asked “How can you play music
when bombs are being dropped all around?”

He replied, “No, the question is,
how can people drop bombs
when there is such beautiful music?”

Today we paddled our kayaks
across a lake
and into a creek
between canyon walls lush with
willow, alder, cottonwood,
maple, fir, pine,
madrone, oak, cedar
Green upon green upon green
in so many different hues

Bald Eagle greeted us
by swooping over our heads
and hundreds of dragonflies
darted above the water.
Little fish swam just below
and the loudest sound
was the fluting call
of a hermit thrush.

This time on quiet water
among green trees and with
our other-than-human relatives
is necessary

Because for some unfathomable reason
people do drop bombs
and hurt children
and pretend there is no climate change

and we need to remind ourselves of
what is good and real and beautiful.

There is music.
There is the fragrance of the pines
on a warm summer day.
There is the kiss of our beloved.
There is the laughter of a happy child
as she bounces on our lap
and sings her little song.
There is the fluting call
of the hermit thrush.

If we can keep these in our hearts
we will be strong enough
to go into the belly of the beast
and put out its fire
with the sweet, sweet waters
of love.

 

 

 

The Heart Outside Your Body

At the grocery store
I saw a baby in the seat
of a cart and he smiled at me
with such delight
that he reminded me of my own baby
and I was instantly transported
back to those days
such a long time ago

when I was his favorite person in the world
and he would raise his little arms
with fingers pointing up
and a winning smile
knowing that I would lift him high
and swing him through the air
before settling him on my hip
and taking him to the next big thing.

He too would sit in the cart
and smile at people who walked by
always so friendly
and slightly mischievous

no words yet
but you always knew
just what he meant.

Now he is a grown man
overtopping me by a foot
with a man’s beard and muscles
and his expression is often hard to read.

He is one of the good ones
and as much as I would like
to claim credit for that
I must admit
he was born that way.

Elizabeth Stone said that to have a child is
“forever to have your heart
go walking outside your body.”

Even long after they are grown
This is true.
I miss my sweet baby boy
but I love the man he has become
and I wish his heart didn’t walk
quite so far away
so much of the time

because even though
I am no longer his favorite person
he and his sister
(also grown)
are still mine.