Blessings On This Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving. 

The long journey across the ocean.  Retching.  Sickness.  Escape from the tyranny.  It's why I am here on this continent.  Thank you.  There was a feast too with the natives.  Just like we learned about in grade school.  The Pilgrims and the Native Americans eating together. 

History has taken many wild turns since Europeans first sailed across the ocean to America.  We can remember when we arrived that we had help from those that were already here.  They fed us and helped us to survive in the New World.  We can return to the days when we accepted each other’s comforts and help.  Those who were with the land and those that came to a new land.  Those that were here and those that eventually had other ideas like expansion.  Those differences, those objectives that were not the same, could not be mended at the time.  So different in world view, and those that wanted to claim did so with technology and betrayal.  

Today in this wondrous universe I find myself in a different coffee shop.  It was the one I first landed at when I arrived in Greensboro.  They accepted me and offered me a beverage and took my green dollars or more likely my green and black checkered debit card.  They welcomed me. 

Today the Native Americans are Americans, many of which still remember their ways of the Medicine Wheel, the drumming, the dancing around the fire, the sweating in the lodges, the chanting and prayer, and the plant medicine science of intuition.  The barefoot walking and simple housing.  The roaming nomadic lifestyle.  Many tribes fought amongst each other from time to time.  They each had their own tribe and traditions.  I have experienced some of these- Cherokee, Lakota, Ciguayo from the Caribbean islands.  Similar yet different.  The songs are different, the prayers.  The common ingredient is the connection to the land and the honoring of Mother Earth who sustains us.  The Sun, the Moon, the Earth.  All the green things and the animals.  Each one sacred.  All the seasons and the directions. 

As you travel North things grow cold and contemplative.  Long nights by the fire staying warm.  Not much sunlight.  The glow of the candle.  The stories and, later, books.  To the South it grew warm.  The days were longer, and there was a sustained growing season.  It was hot!  One had to slow down in mid-day and take a siesta.  Sleep.  Grow.  Lots of growth.  To the East you walked towards the Sun.  You could see it rise.  It brought a new day, every day.  Possibilities.  So many possibilities.  The Sun in ones face brightened you.  At the end of the day the western Sun lowered below the horizon reminding you to reflect on the day and of beauty.  To the West is a great journey, always the following of the Sun.  If you could keep up you could follow it forever.  

Each direction has its own feel and objective.  Something there around the corner.  They are teachers.  There are lessons to be learned in each.  In the center, one may encompass all the directions, having the vantage point of each at once.  Here one merges into the infinite and all directions cease and melt into nothing.  Without direction there is no path.  

The butter melts, the vegan butter.  It is dripped over the turkey, the Tofurkey.  The dressing, the potatoes.  That turkey offered in sacrifice for all of us here.  May we treat them well and may their end come quickly and surely.  

There are so many people here, and all that is here is in support of us in symbiosis.  So great all of this life and living it can be really difficult to see all of it from the center of the Medicine Wheel.  As the center expands out though and we see a greater view and are thankful for all the potential and possibilities.  We know the voice of the turkey speaks as does the plant.  We grow and we learn and we create together, pilgrims and natives, turkey and plant, stuffing and the purple sweet potato.  

When we come together, all the people, we all have visions and thoughts.  When we release the thoughts and be present with what is right here things become clearer and we just are happily together.  We speak our minds and listen to our differences and commonalities with love the flavor of life is all the more sweet.   

The Native Americans taught us to be respectful of the land and all its creatures.  Today the children teach us to be respectful of what is here already, what we have created.  It is a fun video game.  A great maze.  But we must slow down and teach our children to take time in the woods.  

“The bow and arrow,” the little boy says.  Right in his back pocket he kept his arrow, ready for the turkey.  May your aim be sweet and true.  Bringing an end to its life.  And a full tummy.  It is work to do all that.  De-feather it, gut it, cook it, cut it.  I honor your choice!

Here is a poem I wrote about giving thanks, sacrifice and enjoying solace. 

The Noble Turkey

Bring me some quiet among the leaves and trees 

Listen to the language of connection, peace and diversity

Be on your guard squirrel or the hawk just may get you!

The man takes the plant and hugs the tree

The fire keeps him warm

His house built from mud, wood and stone

He feeds his family and puts the children to bed

Mother and father stay up late talking and then love making

To be on Earth is a gift

Enjoying these hands, this mind and these breaths

The turkey, orange and blue head and wattle, feathers, claws

So majestic

It says, "Eat me if you must.  I am here.  Leave me if you will but I am here for this Earth-time.  Those turkeys in the factories they are me too.  Here in the woods I live free but those in the inside confines they are connected to me.  May the walls collapse and the trees grow in their stead.  Come, eat me if you must, I am here, here for the taking.  Know the squirrel beckons, the deer knows, the sky understands.  We are here to live and thrive

and to each one their own, blessed."

Blessings to the one who knows the bigger picture 
and is thankful 
for all that is here