We Lay Down Our Burdens

A black-and-white photo of an older person carrying a heavy bucket uphill on a dark-colored road next to a whitewashed stucco wall. The person is wearing sandals and a calf-length sleeveless dress made of a diamond-patterned fabric. They are stooped over and walking away from the camera, so all that can be seen of their head is some curly grey hair. They are carrying the bucket with their left arm, and their right arm is bent with the hand at their right hip.

Beloved companions,
We arrive in this place where all we have to do is breathe.
[Take 1 or 2 deep breaths.]

We don’t have to impress or convince or win over.
We don’t have to know the words.
It’s okay we didn’t read the book,
Or pass that class
Or carry that title
Or meet that mark.
We don’t have to be anything but who we are.
Here we rest in essence together.

And to move into this communal rest,
we lay down our burdens:

Our longing, our craving, our unmet need.
Our error, our regret, our sudden disappointment.
Our anxiety, our shame, our sheer exhaustion.
Our bewilderment, our bafflement, our burgeoning terror.

All of this—all of this we lay down together today.

As we do this,
May we be filled instead with presence.
May we feel held in the comfort of our community.
May we discover new compassion for ourselves and others.
May we meet this moment with gentleness, ease,
and gratitude—

for this air we breathe together
for these questions we ask together
for the justice we seek together
for the songs we sing together.

Amen.