Beatitudes of Hope

Wednesday, January 26, 2022

Nata Korpusova, Sun Rays

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BEATITUDES FOR THE WATER PROTECTORS, CONSERVATIONISTS, TREE HUGGERS, AND HEALERS & ADVOCATES OF THE EARTH

Hope for those who put their trust in the accumulation of the Breath of Life rather than in the accumulation of things and possessions. With each inhale and exhale, they extend all human existence.

Hope for those whose tears water the earth. Each tear runs like rivers right back to the mouth of their grieving hearts.

Hope for those who sweetly surrender their being into the hands of the earth. Their gentle release is the truest reflection of dominion established by the Creator. 

Hope for those who forage for truth and justice for our good earth. Their work will not be dismissed, but it will sustain and nourish the earth.  

Hope for those who literally hurt with every wildfire, every hurricane, every deforestation and every oil spill. Their empathy will bring them healing as they heal the earth. 

Hope for those whose hearts are as rich and as true as the earth. They will see God in every blade of grass, every star, every leaf, every grain of sand—literally everywhere they look upon the earth. 

Hope for those who pro-actively plant peace in the earths’ most violent and tormented places. They will be gathered and sheltered by Mother Earth. 

Hope for those whose spirits have been buried and eroded by robbers who pirate the goods of the earth for themselves. As the body keeps score, so does the earth. Those who spit on and trample the earth will reap what they sow. True redemptive action and vindication is coming. May this truth restore you. 

Hope for all who are ridiculed and demonized for their efforts to sustain the earth, and who speak truth to power. The stars, the planets, the moons, the oceans, the rivers, the seas, every tree, every animal and every flower, bears witness and validates you. 

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DOXOLOGY

Poem 133: The Summer Day by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields
which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?