A favorite poem

In the midst of scrambling to get ready for the next semester, I read this poem this morning by one of my favorite poets, the Native American poet Joy Harjo. It was like a breath of fresh air. We make our lives so hectic sometimes with plans and activity, that sometimes we forget to experience the miracle of living each day. Anyway, I thought I would share the poem:

ceremony

When considering ceremony the act of preparation is most crucial. Each day is a ceremonial progression in which every human takes part. We do so either consciously or unconsciously. You can prepare by setting the alarm clock and jumping into the world with anxiety, or you can still set the alarm clock, but take time to prepare for the day, by singing, by prayer, by a small acknowledgement of the gift of the day itself.

It has a spirit, this creature called day, and will go on without us, dragging us behind it. Or, we can take part in the ceremony and walk (or run!) with grace into the momentum. For the Mayan this is a science, this naming of the spirits of each day, and by knowing the characteristics of the spirit of each day one can understand the manner in which events will unfold. There’s an overall pattern in this calendar that can be examined and if we follow its logical trail we will arrive at the end of the spiral in the memory field of the Milky Way. All this meaning, we can walk or run blindly through the ceremony of our life, a tricky obstacle course no matter the cultural reference points, or incorporate knowledge that will give this journey a heightened sense of meaning, of beauty, despite the terrible complexities and apparent injustices.

[…]

Maybe the spirits of the days live in the world above the earth we call dawn and stand reverently as the sun arrives in the appointed place in the east. Flowers, plants, all creatures prepare for the sun’s arrival. You can hear the rustle of anticipation as the ultramarine sky turns to a cobalt grey. Deer move towards water to drink. Birds chatter plans for the day. In the distance a few humans begin running towards the east to give the sun encouragement, to make sure the sun returns to bless them.

It’s crucial we participate for the sun needs our songs, prayers, acknowledgements. Too often the weight of humans has been carried by others who have not lost their original instructions on how to live with integrity in this system.

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From Joy Harjo’s A Map to the Next World. New York: Norton, 2000. Page 58.