A common space for harmonic peacemakers
Whenever I come upon a pure talking stone, a bird’s feather, a shell from the surging sea, I take it up, I lift it up, I say the word-sound Hey-ya-tah-ho.
I do not know if this is a word from one of the many languages of the Earth. Surely that is possible, but I do not know. Arising from my soul, honoring relationships, in my imagination Hey-ya-tah-ho means “This is.”
So whenever I walk up to a gift from nature, I take it up, I lift it up, I make the sound Hey-ya-tah-ho, I say to the Earth and Sky, “This is!” I say it slowly, lingering over each syllable.
Spontaneously and but for an instant there is a surge of power, a radiance of joy.
The word-sound is but one half of my thanksgiving word; one of two bending poles of communion. When the sound exits from my mouth and goes out to Earth and Sky, Hey-ya-tah-ho, “This is,” is heard to the Earth Drum and beating of my heart. The other pole, the second half, is, “I too am here;” a silence prayer.
Earth feels this presence. Sky feels this presence. And I am at peace and in the way of belonging.
My word-sound belongs of the moment, yet like rolling thunder it is vast, and it is ancient and outside of time. Ancestors dance in the waves of gratitude.
12 July 2012