Settle your mind upon the strength, the power that is yours. Draw that strength into your heart. Draw it up into your soul. As we gather together the many waters of this community, we need each of your power, each of your resilience, each of your love to make us whole.

Rain falls upon the surface of the earth, and pulled by gravity each drop begins to flow downhill. Drop merges with drop, flowing together, into a trickle, a streamlet, a creek, a mighty river, flowing onward. Some of the water seeps down into the earth itself, as groundwater, or deep aquifers,...

We gather together this morning tenderly—like drops of dew on a leaf of grass hopefully—like gathered raindrops in a cloud gleefully—like water rushing in a stream to the sea deeply—like groundwater pulled up from a well We gather from every direction, for another year of growth and depth,...

It was my inadvertent letting go that made this wild, interdependent beauty possible. And at that very moment, I knew I didn’t need that sort of control anymore.

Leader: For our earth, our ancient mother, blue-green planet of the galaxy, harbinger of lives beyond measure, we honor you with our humble presence, we bow with humility and gratitude. All: We pledge to transform our lives....

Recognizing the beauty around us and within us, in voice and spirit, we gather to light our chalice. May we savor the beauty of our abundance and diversity, always cherishing one another and our earth. May we remember to inhale the lushness in life knowing that we are a people of beauty.

Non-Indigenous people who seek to reconnect with the earth must be wary of the dangerous problem of spiritual theft. On the one hand, we have much to learn from Native peoples about this land and about what it means to honor our relationship to the land. We must take our lead from those who have...

In our water ritual, we bring water from the places we live or the places we may have visited and pour it in one container. All of the water mixes together, and every drop has some of the molecules of water from every place....

Love our Earth. Take action to consume less, use less energy, respect water; And be cooperative, collaborative and creative community – like the moss and the mushrooms. Our children’s lives depend on us.

We pray to you, Mother Earth, with gratitude For your holding and sustaining love For the air, water, and soil that feed us For the mountains and rivers and oceans that calm our spirits For loving and supporting all beings and all creation. We pray to you, Mother Earth, with humility Help us to...

Visual meditations.

We live on a fragile island of life, in a universe of possibilities. For many millennia, humans have been on a journey to find answers, answers to questions about naturalism and transcendence, about who we are and why we are, and of course, who else might be out there. Is it really just us?...

I call the tall bush on my back patio “Burning Bush” because in autumn its leaves are a fiery red. All winter long I overlooked three uninhabited nests inside of it. For months and months I could have perceived—but didn’t—what was in plain sight. ...

We gather here to remember this is our home, but not just ours....

Let this be a time of resilience. May the changing seasons bring new meaning and new insights. May creativity and persistence lead us to find resources for all to share. May those who migrate find safety, and may there be good news in the wind. May transformation lead us onward.

We gather as many drops, each winding our own path down life’s surfaces and ruts. Here we pool together as a single body, flowing together for a time. Together we are a stream, at times even a river, for with our shared force we can travel toward oceans of meaning and seas of connection.

Humans make maps of stars, choosing some stars, ignoring others, to project our imaginations onto the heavens. These maps shift over time, across cultures. Names change for the same assemblage of bright points: Drinking Gourd, Big Dipper, Plough, Lost Hunters [1], Saptarishi [2]. Humans make...

We could see the main path to the swimming hole ahead, but we had to pick our way through sand spurs to get there. Behind us were rattlesnakes. What did the youth do? They started playing.

On my worst days, it is gravity I am most grateful for: the way the earth pulls at me from her core, yearns for me, keeps me pressed tightly against her surface. When my own core is hollowed out, when I have no more mass than a leaf dead on the branch, still this is enough for the earth to find me.

Who are the angry birds in my life? What are the sticks I carry in my heart so as not to be hurt again?