Edge after Edge

The way we stand you can see we have grown up this way together, out of the same soil, with the same rains, leaning in the same way toward the sun. See how we lean together in the same direction. How the dead limbs of one of us rest in the branches of another. How those branches have grown around the limbs. How the two are inseparable. And if you look you can see the different ways we have taken this place into us. Magnolia, loblolly bay, sweet gum, Southern bayberry, Pacific bayberry; wherever we grow there are many of us; Monterrey pine, sugar pine, white-bark pine, four-leaf pine, single-leaf pine, Jeffery pine, bishop pine. And we are various, and amazing in our variety, and our differences multiply, so that edge after edge of the endlessness of possibility is exposed. —Susan Griffin

As witnessed on my morning walk: Delicate white and yellow flowers in a sea of green leaves. Small pebbles strewn to create a meditative path through a cultivated patch of garden. And between the two, a clear, orderly boundary created by human hand.

This boundary caught my eye—such a contrast to a forest floor untouched by human design! As I looked closer, three sprigs of green popped up through the pebbles. What courage to cross over the boundary, I thought—courage in our divided world amidst the realities of us vs. them, borders aflame, families separated. And yet, in nature, just wind and rain, root systems and creatures that transport seeds. In nature, boundaries aren’t set for purposes of furthering a dominate narrative, or sapping resources to their extinction. Edge after edge of the endlessness of possibility.

How far will we take our unrestrained hunger to create order in every forest floor and animal habitat? And how can I be more mindful in my everyday life of my own complicity and denial? Jewish tradition is full of wisdom with many responses. One that comes to mind (which I have turned to often in the Mishnah Tefilah prayerbook and other sources) by Rabbi Nachman of Bratzlav:

Grant me the ability to be alone; May it be my custom to go outdoors each day among the trees and grasses, among all growing things and there may I be alone, and enter into prayer to talk with the One that I belong to.

And another trusted companion that I hold often in my prayers, Psalm 121 (along with what I think is a powerful modern version, a poem by Nancy Wood):

I lift my eyes to the mountains

From where will my help come?

My help comes from God, maker of heaven and earth.

God will not let your foot give way; your Guardian will not slumber.

See, the guardian of Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps!

God is your guardian, God is your protection at your right hand.

By day the sun will not strike you, nor the moon by night.

God will guard you from all harm, and will guard your soul/spirit/life.

God will guard your going and coming now and forever.

My help is in the mountains

Where I take myself to heal

The earthly wounds

That people give to me.

I find a rock with sun on it

And a stream where the water runs gentle

And the trees which one by one give me company.

So must I stay for a long time

Until I have grown from the rock

And the stream is running through me

And I cannot tell myself from one tall tree.

Then I know that nothing touches me

Nor makes me run away.

My help is in the mountain

That I take away with me.

Earth cure me. Earth receive my woe. Rock strengthen me. Rock receive my weakness. Rain wash my sadness away. Rain receive my doubt. Sun make sweet my song. Sun receive the anger from my heart.

And lastly (for now), this prayer by Black Elk emerged for me as another response:

Hey! Lean to hear my feeble voice

At the center of the sacred hoop

You have said that I should make the tree to bloom.

With tears running, O Great Spirit, my

Grandfather,

With running eyes I must say

The tree has never blossomed

Here I stand, and the tree is withered.

Again, I recall the great vision you gave me.

It may be that some little root of the sacred tree still lives.

Nourish it then

That it may leaf and bloom

And fill with singing birds!

Hear me, that the people may once again

Find the good road

And the shielding tree.