Ancestors; in Thanksgiving

I have been sitting with the Ancestors lately. Listening to the people who held this land in reverent sacredness. Who kept the balance of giving and receiving, living so close, so close they could hear the beat of the heart which pulses at the center of all. And their feet danced out her rhythms and their voices sang out her songs. They were one; this land, this Mother, these people. I give my thanks to them; endless gratitude and thankfulness for being the first to bow upon this land, drink deep from her springs of plenty, creating beats and sound which still cause the hairs to rise upon the back of the neck and tears to roll down the face, the spine to straighten….and the feet to move. Holy, holy is thy way.

May your baskets be full and your water gourdes never run dry. May your hair grow long and black, brilliant in the morning sun. May you heal deeply from the ignorance which diminishes and may you dwell within the sacred grounds of the ancestors, in the lap of the Mother forever.

The Earth is Our Mother

The Earth is our mother, we must take care of her
The Earth is our mother, we must take care of her.

Hey yana, ho yana, hey yan yan,
Hey yana, ho yana, hey yan yan.

Her sacred ground we walk upon, with every step we take
Her sacred ground we walk upon, with every step we take.

Hey yana, ho yana, hey yan yan,
Hey yana, ho yana, hey yan yan.

The Sky is our father, we must take care of him
The Sky is our father, we must take care of him

Hey yana, ho yana, hey yan yan,
Hey yana, ho yana, hey yan yan.

The Rivers are our sisters, we must take care of them
The Rivers are our sisters, we must take care of them.

Hey yana, ho yana, hey yan yan,
Hey yana, ho yana, hey yan yan.

The Trees are our brothers, we must take care of them
The Trees are our brothers, we must take care of them.

Hey yana, ho yana, hey yan yan,
Hey yana, ho yana, hey yan yan.

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