We Are Not So Separate

A poem by Emma Brachtenbach

DSC_1895Last night, I slept upon the springtime, mountain ground and thought about the universe.

Under the ancient constellations I pondered the possibilities of sacredness and secular creation and my mind just wouldn’t stop turning.

Like how beautiful would it be if god was genderless and endlessly gendered all at once because then religion could be constructed as truly all encompassing. More than bodies and how we can compartmentalize human beings.

And what if the earth was our original mother: heart beat ringing beautifully every time a new soul slipped from the dark womb of the mother who made us into the light and people singing, creating concentric circles of care and nurturing.  The only tie is the cord reminding us where we come from and where we return.

What if science has it all wrong: the sun is a god who is born, thrives, and dies within the window of our day and sister moon watches over us earth children at night with the help of our cousin stars… We were all star dust once.

Or what if the true sanctity is just understanding how this universe remains in beautiful balance because that’s sacred too.

And the mountains that prophets stood on, spreading the word of their god, were their ancestors with ancient voices singing praises to the sun, and gods, and people, and animals, writing the sermon on the mount, genesis, enuma elish, the significance of the eight spoked wheel, sacred geometry in temples, and to step back and admire the galaxies in the smiles of sacred children.

We are not so separate.

And as I lie here pondering where I fit and where I come from and where I’ll go when I die, I remember that this is a privilege I was endowed with on the day I hit this planet running in search of answers and questions. How beautiful because sacred beings walk on feet. We are not so separate.

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