Creative spirit, source of life and love: We give thanks for the beauty of this day and for the company of those assembled here. Thank you for the breezes of change, clearing our heads and bringing fresh ideas. May they cleanse our minds of the oppressions and isms that divide us....

I lift my eyes up to the hills from where will my help come? My help comes from Love abundant. my help comes from the hills my help—my help, it comes from ancient Mothers whose hearts beat in mine. It comes from the trees that sway and the breeze that sways them . . . my help comes from all that...

Spirit of the universe, Life force that flows through all beings, Power beyond our knowing, We ask you to help us see beyond our dependence on opposites— To transcend our desire to know who is like us, and who is not. Open us to the knowledge that in this room there are complexities and...

Wind that whispers through the willow trees Sun that sustains us Water that washes over willing earth and weathered stones A smile shared and savored A child’s squeal of delight as she dances in the daisies and daffodils The quiet joy of gathered community This, this is the spirit of life and lov...

My high school years were speckled with trust walks. In my ­Unitarian Universalist youth group at the First UU Congre­gation of Ann Arbor, each year, the incoming freshmen were given blindfolds and a partner. They were led out into the dark, with only hands on their shoulders to guide them. When...

My theology understands humanity as simultaneously fragile and resilient, weak and strong, greedy and generous, mean and compassionate. I see the divine spark in the tension between those opposites....

Come into this room, weigh into this chair, breathe into this body, the very body that will be you, for better and for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do us part....

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....

On sabbatical in East Africa, I heard a story of a people who believe that we are each created with our own song. Their tradition as a community is to honor that song by singing it as welcome when a child is born, as comfort when the child is ill, in celebration when the child marries, and in...

Like the cosmic dust following after a great Perseid meteor, we are the living remnants of time and all that has come to pass in its wake—briefly shining lights on the way to eternity. We are only visible to the naked eye for an instant. Take this moment to shine like the start dust you are. May...