EARTH, clay from which we are made and to which we will return. Soil, rich and aromatic, crumbling in my fingers, dark under my nails. This, cleansing dirt, the natural filter for aquifers, holds life....

Early in the morning, before the children are awake and while the grass is still dewy, I like to walk in my garden. It’s “my” garden only because it shares the same small plot of land my family and I inhabit. The garden does not really belong to me; I belong to it—at least for the short time...

Spirit of spring and new life, spirit of decay and death, We turn to your wisdom and strength as we seek to live lives of meaning and love. The cycle of life is powerful. Everything that lives, dies. Everything that dies has lived. There is no escaping this cycle. What then, can we learn from its...

If we lived in another climate Our souls might speak other languages We might speak oasis or permafrost, dry season or monsoon But our souls speak spring Our souls speak green shoots pushing through last year’s leaves Our souls speak flower buds stretching to sun Our souls speak mud puddle and...

In the pagan tradition, which is grounded in a respect and reverence for the natural world, calling upon the four directions is the usual way to begin any ceremony. Each direction is associated with an element of the natural world, and represents some part of our human nature as well....

As the first hint of green begins to peek through the barren ground As that little sprig grows into a healthy stem As that stem grows into a stalk and forms a bud As that bud slowly opens with each new day To form a yellow daffodil Let us be, like that first hint of green, renewed by the warm of ...

I’m going to talk about something really powerful today: HOPE. And first, I have a question. Have you ever hoped for something? … and did the thing you hoped for happen? [Take responses.] I think that hope is kinda like these: [Pass around basket of acorns and invite children to take one to hold...

Blessed is the Sky, And all that is warm and filled with light. Blessed is the Air, And all that is open and free. Blessed is the Earth, And all that is steady and firm. Blessed is the Sea, And all that is hidden and deep.

Speak, flowers, speak! Why do you say nothing? The flowers have the gift of language. In the meadow they speak of freedom, Creating patterns wild and free as no gardener could match. In the forest they nestle, snug carpets under the roof of Leaf and branch, making a rug of such softness....