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...

Children of the earth and sky, we are nurtured, sustained, given warmth and light from above and below. Supported by earth's strong, firm crust, we build our homes, till the fields, plant our gardens and orchards....

For five thousand years, or more, more than fifteen thousand generations, human beings have been invoking spiritual power. My predecessors, and yours, have gathered together to make sense of their lives and their place in the cosmos. And they have spoken aloud, and invited what they conceived as...

I do not know if the seasons remember their history or if the days and nights by which we count time remember their own passing. I do not know if the oak tree remembers its planting or if the pine remembers its slow climb toward sun and stars. I do not know if the squirrel remembers last fall's...