Spirit of the Earth, Gaia, mother, we call on you. In your womb we are formed—formed and reformed, shaped and reshaped, in the great cauldron of geological time unknown and unknowable.

May we in this tender moment whisper a word of gratitude that creation did not end on the sixth day, but joyously rolls on, age after age, across the centuries, the years, the days—continuing now, this very moment, inside our forming and transforming hearts. To live is to change. To change is to find our sacred purpose.

Father time, teach us to love our layers, the deposits of bygone seas of joy and sorrows, that have built up the foundations of who we are.

Mother of creation, teach us to be fearless as we are cast into the fires that melt and mold and harden us during times of upheaval and injustice.

Spirit of the Earth, teach us to trust the transformation, to hang on tight as we suffer the pressure and the heat, as our souls deep in darkness await the metamorphosis—that day when, finally, we emerge from the womb of life, transformed, our dusty limestone turned to lustrous marble.

May our transfigured hearts be hewn into tools that give life, or works of art that inspire. Or maybe a smooth, flat stone flung from a child’s hand, that skips on water for one sparkling moment.

And when changes come again, may we be content to let the ocean waves of time gently release us as humble grains of sand, to caress the toes of curious beachcombers.

Let our lives be formed, and reformed, and transformed again for love and justice—for we know that this is holy.

Amen and blessed be.