Wednesday at the Parliament

Wednesday at the Parliament

by Chris & Katie LaFond

One Step Sideways: When the Divine is Feminine

The morning opened with a panel discussion featuring four pagan animist speakers moderated by Dr. Drake Spaeth of Earth Traditions. We addressed the current climate crisis and how we see it as a logical consequence of the patriarchal, hyper-masculinized environment we find ourselves in.

Rev. Angie Buchanan, also of Earth Traditions started with her focus on the connectedness of everything, offering the analogy and example of mycelium, which permeates much of the ground we walk on. She drew on her experience as a Death Midwife as she spoke on the pagan world view as a connected web.

Dr. Derrick Sebree, Jr., a psychologist at the Michigan School of Psychology and practitioner of Hoodoo, spoke as an animist and person of color, spoke about his work in the field of climate psychology, and the importance of the whole, not just the parts. His most salient point was probably pointing out that, from the perspective of race, we as humans don’t even see each other fully, which makes seeing other beings as fully alive even more challenging.

Rev. Byron Ballard addressed the interconnectedness of all beings and specifically some of her work in the interfaith movement, pointing out that with hard work, it is possible to work with spiritual communities that we might assume are so different as to be beyond reach. The second point she made was that while some of the “traditional” religions can claim to be 6,000 years old (or more), these hills (the Appalachians in her case) were far older and full of wisdom. Finally, she warned that nature will always seek balance. Because humans have become apex predators, nature will find ways to restore the balance, as long as we refuse to do it ourselves.

Finally, Chris LaFond took on the legacy of colonialism in the dismissal of the feminine in the conception of the divine. First, the religious and spiritual colonization of pre-Christian Europe, and then the European-Christian colonization of Africa, Asia, and eventually Australia and the Americas. The suppression of any hint of the divine feminine has wounded much of the world. He pointed out that the divine feminine is not equivalent with “woman,” and asked those present to keep in mind what the divine feminine might even mean or look like for feminine-and masculine-presenting people, because our society at large is currently lacking good models for this. He drew the connection that in most cultures, the Earth is considered “Mother” and feminine, and when we denigrate the feminine, then the Earth is profane. In a connected point, he addressed the idea that is often found in interfaith circles that we are all “on the same path,” or “going to the same place,” and how that is not true at all from a pagan animist perspective. But that it doesn’t have to be true to work together. He finished by quoting Andras Corban Arthen, that “the Earth is not our home, the Earth is what we are.”


A Parliament tradition since 2004 in Barcelona, the Sikh community once again is offering Langar this week. Langar is a free meal that is a part of the Sikhs’ service commitment to the larger community. All who come are fed a delicious vegetarian meal, prepared in large pots and served to those who come. Everyone sits on the ground and eats the same meal from the same pots, a ritual demonstration of the equality of all. The practice has been part of the Sikh tradition since the time of its founder, Guru Nanak. On the way in to the dining area, a display provided information and photos about the origins of Sikhism, of langar, and of kirtan, the practice of ritual chanting. Sharing a meal like this is also an excellent opportunity to meet others at the Parliament and break bread together.

PoWR 2023 Monday

by Katie LaFond


On Monday, I attended Reparations: What is it and What is the Faith Community’s Role in the Contemporary Movement? This workshop was presented by a panel of speakers, including an African American lawyer, a white Jewish Rabbi, a Japanese American, and others. The presenters started by explaining what reparations are. From a legal perspective, they pointed to international law that stipulates five criteria: compensation, (health and mental) rehabilitation, restitution and repatriation, satisfaction (e.g., the taking down of monuments), and a guarantee that it won’t happen again (always challenging). Then they presented some historical examples of reparations, specifically in West Germany after WWII. 

John Tateishi, a Japanese American panelist who shared his experience as a three-year-old in an internment camp, detailed how the Japanese American community has always thought of itself as “American,” and therefore was hesitant for a long time to acknowledge the need for, and to ask for reparations of any kind. When members of that community finally did, they received little response from government sources until the issue of money was broached, at which point some real challenges began. This, along with the testimony of other panelists (as well as some attendees’ comments) pointed to the reality that the language of legislation seems to be cash, and until it becomes the issue, communities are often ignored or put off indefinitely. Money — a shocking amount of it — is often what calls necessary attention to this issue.
The workshop concluded with a few ideas about what steps to take. The speakers suggested joining groups that support this issue, reading about it, talking to your faith communities about it, and more.

It’s clear to many of us that there needs to be some sort of conversation and addressing of this at a national level. I was slightly disappointed that a couple of the presenters seemed to come at this from such a strongly denominational perspective. Using one’s own community to drum up support for this issue is commendable. But we also need to be clear that we do not legislate based upon any one spiritual tradition’s approach. Surely at the Parliament, we can see that we need the cooperation and input of many groups to address such huge societal issues.

Maya Q’eqchi World View: Human Rights, Cosmology and Calendar

by Chris LaFond

Before the main presenter, Miguel Angel Chinquin Yat, spoke, the moderator of the session encouraged the attendees to access the intuitive parts of ourselves, and invited us to “just experience” what we were being presented, even if we didn’t understand all of it. Sr. Chinquin Yat, a Mayan priest speaking in Spanish, began with an invocation in his Mayan language, and then laid out a general model of the Mayan understanding that we are in the fifth Sun, and that this means that we should be progressing beyond a linear understanding of reality into a more circular one.

He assured the attendees that our ancestors had brought us here together this afternoon, and that nothing happens by coincidence. He explained that he was not here to “teach” us, but rather to invite us to share the seeds of corn in our hearts, and that we are our own teachers.

He then presented what he called a “cosmic base” of 20 energies (nahuales), of which each person has four, which influence who we are and what we do in our lives. He gave a brief description of each, and explained what a child who is born today would have as their four nahuales.

A notable quote from the presentation was when he was speaking about our relationship to the earth, and asked “Are we giving our good fruit?” (spiritually and materially). Another was “God isn’t about power, it’s about values.”

During the question period, I asked about how Mayan youth from his tradition learn about these things. Whether there was still a strong cultural infusion (despite the effects of colonialism), whether they learned them through some rites of passage, or whether they had to consult with specialists. He explained that these teachings were strong still throughout the culture and that there were some rites of passage involved. I did get the impression though that for more specific teachings, one would need to consult with the experts (priests and priestesses).

The presentation was fascinating, and reminded me of what many western astrologers refer to as Mayan astrology. It was clear to me though, that there is no one “Mayan astrology,” and that despite the interest and research of a number of astrologers into the topic, when we deal with spiritual systems of other cultures, unless we study with teachers from that culture, we will never fully understand (and in fact might completely misunderstand) what hat seems to be simple and clear on the surface.

Lunasdal 2023

Lunasdal 2023

by Chris LaFond

Lunasdal always feels to me like one of the most community focused celebrations of the year. Though my heart always longs for the deep, quiet, cold of winter, there’s no denying the appeal of a food festival. And the best time to do that is when the food is ripe!

This ancient festival, observed by ancient Celts and other peoples of northern Europe, celebrates the first fruits of the season. Obviously, in New England, we have harvested a lot before this season: leafy greens, peas, radishes, fiddle heads, roots, asparagus, and so forth. But it’s now, as the summer turns from its height and begins to wane, that we gather the foods that will nourish us through the fall and winter months ahead.

Food & Community

Wheat and grains come into harvest season in late July, as well as fruits and vegetables that are appropriate for preservation: zucchini, tomatoes, squashes, corn, and so forth. This is what we celebrate as we gather to mark the turning of the season once again.

The community aspect of Lunasdal is also of prime importance. As with many indigenous communities throughout the world, the light half of the year is when the Celtic tribes would come together for all sorts of business. Of course, this would vary from place to place, but often this was a time for tribal members to intermarry, cementing political alliances outside of the tribe and strengthening the stability of the region.

Games and competitions were another common practice. These “pagan olympics” can still be perceived in modern day highland festivals which feature competitions and feats of strength.


About fifty members of EarthSpirit and guests gathered at Glenwood Farm on the first weekend of August to celebrate the season. We observed the transformation of the Green Man into a baked loaf; we made offerings to the Stones in the stone circle; the children presented seeds, roots, and leaves as a reminder of the many levels that go into growing the food that nourishes us.

Following the ritual, we shared of our own first harvests and enjoyed the perfect summer day.

Interfaith Service Reflections October 2022 (2)

Chris LaFond

Editor’s Note: Westhampton holds a Fall Festival each October, which begins with a town-wide interfaith service. Katie and Chris LaFond have been part of planning and officiating that service since 2019. The following is the reflection that Chris offered at this year’s service, on October 16, 2022.

As we were preparing for this morning’s interfaith service, the topic of Peace came up. I’ve thought a lot in the last week about peace. There are a lot of assumptions that we have about the idea. But what really is Peace? As I often do, I went running to the Oxford English Dictionary, and I found something really interesting.

All of the major entries under “peace” start by defining it as a “freedom from” something.

For example: 

  • Freedom from civil unrest or disorder
  • Freedom from quarrels or dissension between individuals
  • Freedom from anxiety, disturbance (emotional, mental, or spiritual), or inner conflict
  • Freedom from external disturbance, interference, or perturbation
  • Absence of noise, movement, or activity
  • Freedom from, absence of, or cessation of war or hostilities

This surprised me somewhat, since today, I think, many of us have engaged in groups or organizations where the idea of peace is far more active than passive. I think about all the effort that goes into things like international peace accords, and it seems to me that peace is far more than just “freedom from” things.

If I were to ask you today what you think of as “peace,” what would you say? Would you also tell me that it’s a freedom from disturbance, anxiety, or conflict? Maybe in the workplace? Or in the neighborhood? Would you tell me that it’s those precious 10 minutes after the last kid is in bed, and all is quiet before you have to collapse into bed yourself. Maybe you and your partner have a quiet cocktail or a cup of tea first to …  you know … “help the peace along” a little? Maybe you experience it as the calm after the storm, the sunny morning after the hurricane when you see that the damage is superficial.

Or maybe peace is an inner state that we can cultivate and carry with us wherever we go, regardless of what is going on around us. The lyrics to the well known hymn are “let there be peace on Earth and let it begin with me.” As I was trying to capture these thoughts, my house was a shining example of not-peace, as if to be sure that I was experiencing the lesson that I was preparing to attempt to share with others. One kid needed help with homework, another insisted on doing a big art project in the same small room I was in, the sewing machine on the desk next to me was loudly engaged with making some necessary materials for one of our community rituals, and the dog was whining to go out. Sometimes peace is being able to close the door and be alone. But maybe peace is also what I bring to the chaos that is often daily life. Do I bring more chaos? Do I bring calm?

“Let peace begin with me” sounds good. But what happens when your neighbor isn’t so interested in peace? What do you do when others antagonize you or your kids? How do you teach your children to deal with the school bully? Maybe sometimes, peace is putting up a fence, or reporting the bullies to the teachers. Maybe sometimes, peace is precisely a freedom from stress, a cessation of previous hostilities.

I don’t really have any clear lessons here for you, or conclusions. So I hope you’re not waiting for one. Maybe as soon as we figure out how to define peace, it shapeshifts on us and looks entirely different from yesterday. John Denver’s song “Perhaps Love” ponders, “Love to some is like a cloud, to some as strong as steel; for some a way of living, for some a way to feel. And some say love is holding on and some say letting go; and some say love is everything, and some say they don’t know.” Perhaps peace is like this, too. It’s different for different people and on different days. Perhaps Love; Perhaps Peace.

In a few minutes, we’ll invite you to join us in singing “Deep Peace.”

Deep peace of the running wave to you;

Deep peace of the flowing air to you;

Deep peace of the shining stars to you;

Deep peace of the quiet earth to you.

And maybe that’s the key. The wave, the air, the stars, the earth, can only ever be what they are: their authentic selves. Maybe as supposedly rational humans, we complicate things to the point of being unsettled. As pagans, our first teacher is the Sacred Earth. May the water, the air, the fiery stars, and the firm quiet earth teach us authenticity and teach us peace.

“Deep Peace”

Seasonal Celebrations 2022

At Lunasdal in early August, about 60 folks met for our annual ritual at the stone circle at Glenwood Farm. In September about 30 gathered for the Fall Equinox celebration, including some tending of the Trees in the Sacred Grove there.

The Green Man – a Lughnasad Tradition

by Juniper Talbot

The Green Man (photo by Andras Corban Arthen)

In our family tradition, Aidan and I use parts of our Yule Tree in different ways for the eight seasonal Celtic holidays – Yule, Spring Equinox, Beltaine, Summer Solstice, Lughnasad, Fall Equinox and Samhain.

 At the Summer Solstice, we create a Green Man out of branches from last year’s Yule Tree, woven together with vines. We then pick summer wildflowers and decorate him while we sing a song we wrote.

Green man, green man, formed of vines
In your body, flowers we entwine
Green Man, green man joined with the maid
Summer starts on your wedding day.

There is a secret hollow woven into his back, and as we approach Lughnasad, the Festival of the First Harvest, we ritually bake bread and tuck a small loaf inside this secret hollow. Since the First Harvest celebrates the reaping and cutting down of the growing things, we offer the Green Man to his Funeral Pyre and watch him burn, as we sing a song we wrote.

Tongues of flame, fire is burning
Ashes remain, the wheel keeps turning
Tongues of flame, old things burning
Ashes remain, feel peace returning

When the burning is complete, the small hidden loaf of bread is brought forth from the ashes, and we share in the nourishment of the Bread of Life, born from the Green Man’s sacrifice.

“John Barleycorn,” reenacted by the Bridges and Littles (photo by Andras Corban Arthen)

Fall Equinox

by Chris LaFond

In mid-September, about thirty members of EarthSpirit gathered at Glenwood Farm to celebrate the Fall Equinox, the coming cooler weather, the tipping of the seasons, and to tend the trees in the Sacred Grove. Of all our seasonal celebrations, this is the one that is a “working ritual.” Following the Sacred Land Walk, we process up the mountain to the Grove Shrine that EarthSpirit has been cultivating for many years. We spend time with each of the trees, and as part of our ritual, weed and mulch them, especially the smaller ones. We sing, dance, share food from our abundance, and socialize.

This year was a warm overcast day, perfect for doing a little gardening. Our Fall Equinox ritual is a good reminder that “celebrating” the Sacred Earth without giving back to her can sometimes be a somewhat empty gesture. The effects of climate change and global warming were obvious this year, in the condition of the trees and the amount of water available to them. But we adjust where we must, both in tending our groves and gardens, and in our own advocacy for the overall Web we are part of.

We plant and tend trees, often not for ourselves, but for the Earth and those who will come behind us. We are part of a Web of Life that has stretch from time immemorial, and will continue well beyond our own time here.

Fall Equinox 2022 (photo by Rowan Hawthorne)

Beltaine Blessings

This past Sunday ushered in the month of Beltaine (or Bealtaine, as it’s spelled on modern Irish calendars), and for the first time in a long while, we gathered in person at Glenwood Farm, EarthSpirit’s home in Western MA, to celebrate. More than 70 people joined us for the Sacred Land Walk and the Beltaine ritual. The day was glorious and warm, and we visited shrines, danced a Maypole ritual, sang, and shared food and conversation.

But not before burning away Old Man Winter. Kate Richardson led us by eulogizing the old codger, and then burned his effigy in the ritual fire. We share her eulogy with you here, and wish you the brightest of Beltaine Blessings!

Kate and Old Man Winter (photo by Deirdre Pulgram Arthen)

Eulogy for Old Man Winter 2022

We’re gathered here for a joyful occasion: to welcome the spring and the summer to come. But before we can do that with our whole beings, we have to dispose of the Winter that has passed. The old man that was Winter stands here before us in effigy, and we should take a moment to remember him before we dispatch him. As he burns away he can take with him any ill luck and bad feelings from the past season, leaving us free to celebrate what’s to come.
Each year between Samhain and Yule a new Winter is born. We welcome him with feasting and songs, gathering with friends and family to remind ourselves of the bonds of community which will keep us safe and warm through the hard and cold times. As this Winter drove us indoors, he still kept company with the pestilence of the last two years. Although the Rona seems now more ubiquitous but less deadly, it managed to sow discord, anxiety, illness and distress. We were reminded more than ever to take care of each other, even if that meant keeping a distance.
As the Winter reached maturity, going from Yule to Imbolc, he showed off his strength by biting the extremities of hopeful apple tree wassailers, and casting snow in the way of gatherings. And yet, for folk who can enjoy the outdoors, there was snow enough for skiing, and ice enough for ice fishing, as is right and proper for our climate.
Waning in strength after Imbolc, and on to the Vernal Equinox, he still maintained an imposing presence. But there were cracks in his mansion when warmer weather peeked a toe, a finger, a nose, through for just a moment. Winter gripped tight but the trees knew, the birds knew, that his end was coming. The sap flowed sweet, as it is supposed to. The snow and ice melted in the sunny places.
Finally, after Equinox, he came into his dotage, a cranky and unkempt being. The mud season he bequeathed us was the stuff of legends. He petulantly threw late-season frosts and snowfalls our way.
But now we declare that he is well and truly gone. Any lingering chills will be in his memory, and not from his presence. But let us not forget the lessons of Winter:

★ That we must turn to each other to get through the reign of tyrants with hope intact.
★ That we have strength and resilience, fed by songs and stories, by gathering and breaking bread together.
★ That we can get through tough conditions if we plan and prepare, and help each other out.
★ That kindness matters, and can counteract the cold.
★ That there can be great beauty in difficult conditions.

What lessons and blessings has the Winter brought to you?

All that said, we are properly glad to see him gone. He was cold and nasty, and we are ready for the warm and growing times. We may mock him for the bully and codger that he was, for he is gone, and we are all still here to see this turn to the warm times. Go ahead and make fun of him; this effigy will carry the bad words and feelings away. Then we will sing and dance our way to the tide of returning life, taking our place in the turning of the season’s wheel.

Kate Richardson, Beltaine 2022

In the Circle of Earth and Sky: Four Directions Ceremony in conjunction with Four Elders

by Chris LaFond


Francois Paulette

Indigenous Elder Francois Paulette (Dene) led the sunrise observance on Monday, accompanied by elders Be’sha Blondin (of the Sahtu Region), Trina Moyan, and a Mayan Elder. I arrived at 6:45 for the scheduled 7 a.m. ceremony, but as I arrived, Bob Goulais (Anishanaabe), who is the co-chair of the Indigenous Working Group of the Parliament and was there as a fire tender, announced that the ceremony would begin around 7:30 a.m. because the elders wanted to wait until the Sun had actually risen. He explained that the Parliament insisted on scheduling all the morning observances at 7 a.m., despite the fact that most of the presenters wanted an actual sunrise ceremony. I was left wondering why, at an event like this, such a simple request could not be accommodated.

So I had forty-five minutes to wait. But as so often happens, the highlight of the moment happened outside of the scheduled event. Mr. Goulais said that while we waited, he would offer us a teaching about the fire. He then told us his people’s story of creation, which began with the thought of the Creator, and spiraled down through space, to the Earth, and primarily through the Fire. We learned about the “happy hunting grounds,” as


Bob Goulais

he explained with a smile about that place from which our spirits come and to which they will go when it is their time. We heard several of his people’s teachings about the Earth, many of which have been confirmed by science today: the fire at the center of the Earth, the idea of action and reaction, and more. He finished with an explanation of the roles of men and women in his community, and how and why men have become the fire keepers.
At 7:30, the Elders had arrived, and Chief Paulette gave a brief instruction to all, after which we were given a small handful of tobacco to offer. As Mr. Goulais drummed and chanted (we joined him in raising our voices when he got to the “exciting parts” as he had invited us to do), we moved in a sun-wise circle, and one by one, facing the East, offered the tobacco into a small basket. When all the participants had completed their offerings, a Mayan elder took the basket of tobacco, while Elder Trina Moyan took a basket of food in her hands. Together they faced the East and offered prayers, then moved around the circle, stopping again for prayers to the South, West, and North. Finally, they emptied each basket onto the Fire, completing the offering.

The Mayan elder then explained how the teachings of the Indigenous peoples of the Americas are strikingly similar to those of the Indigenous peoples of Australia because the Original Teachings had been given to all peoples. Ms. Moyan told us that her prayers at the directions had been for all people at their beginnings, their youth, their adulthood, and their elderhood, that we might live good lives and guide others in doing the same. Elder Be’sha Blondin then gave a final blessing, exhorting us to live a simple life, and to clean and heal the Earth.

The ceremony concluded with the Elders beginning to move inside the circle, spiraling around to shake the hands of and greet each person there. The whole circle followed them in until it was whole again, where it began. As we all headed off to our next destinations, I couldn’t help humming to myself, “In the circle of Earth and sky, my heart flies to yours. We gather, we remember, and the pattern endures.”

EarthSpirit is at A Parliament of the World’s Religions this week in Toronto!  You can find more updates here and on our Facebook page.  

The Zoroastrian Boi Ceremony

by Chris LaFond


Tehemton Mirza, Mobed

On this chilly Sunday morning at 7 am, about 40 people gathered at a small park outside the Metro Toronto Convention Centre to join the Zoroastrian Fire Ceremony. Tehemton Mirza, the Mobed (Zoroastrian priest), greeted us as we gathered around the warmth of the fire just before the Sun rose. First he thanked the representative of the First Nations, who was present to help tend the fire, for hosting us on their land. Then he explained that he was going to do an abbreviated Boi Ceremony, a fire blessing. Each attendee had been given a dry piece of wood to offer the fire at the end of the ceremony. What followed would be familiar to any pagan today. He chanted a long blessing over the fire in Farsi, and at the point in the prayer where he intoned “Dushmata, Duzukhta, Duzvarshta,” (Bad thoughts, bad words, and bad deeds), he rang a bell nine times (three for each) to banish these.

During the ceremony, the Atash (Sacred Fire) asks in the prayer, “What did the walking friend (the devotee) bring for his sitting friend (the Sacred Fire)?” This was the invitation for the attendees to place their individual pieces of wood on the fire. At a certain point, sandalwood is offered to the fire, being particularly sacred to the rite. This morning, the First Nations attendee also offered cedar, sage, and tobacco, the sacred offerings for the particular land that we are on here. Toward the end of the chant, the Mobed asked the Fire to bless the devotees:

In thy family, may the flock of cattle increase!
Unto Thee may there be an increase of heroic men!
May thou have an active mind!
May thy life be active!
May thou live a joyous life, those nights that thou live!

The blessing is reminiscent of many of those from the Gaelic highlands.

After the prayers, and the final pieces of wood offerings were given to the Fire, each attendee was offered some ash that had been removed and cooled earlier, so that we could put a small bit on our foreheads in a sign of humility and respect for the Fire.

Having concluded the ritual part of the gathering, the Mobed drew attention to the very close parallels between the Zoroastrian ceremonies and those of our First Nations hosts. He spoke of the three different kinds of sacred fires, and he introduced a female Zoroastrian priest who was present, pointing out that there is equality among men and women, and this includes women’s participation in the priesthood.

We concluded as the Sun’s rays poured over the buildings around us on the first rainless day we’ve had since the Parliament began.

EarthSpirit is at A Parliament of the World’s Religions this week in Toronto!  You can find more updates here and on our Facebook page.  

Holding Integrity: A Lesson from Chief Arvol Looking Horse

by Chris LaFond

Arvol Looking Horse

photo by Balkowitsch, used under a Creative Commons license

On Saturday, I attended a workshop titled “Pipe Ceremony,” presented by Arvol Looking Horse, Lakota. Mr. Looking Horse talked about becoming a sacred bundle keeper when his grandmother died in her eighties, which was young for a bundle keeper. As a consequence of becoming a sacred bundle keeper, he began to live in ceremony all the time. He was told that he could not ever use a gun or weapon, he could not use foul language, could not run for political office, and he could not raise his hand to swear an oath to the U.S. flag.

What I find impressive about his presentation and his life is his willingness to take on a responsibility for his community that defines how he will live for the rest of his life. His role in his community is not merely the person who keeps the bundle or offers the pipe. His entire life is now a ritual.

Most modern pagan communities don’t have such a rigid differentiation of roles.  In fact, we often have a difficult time staying in ritual for more than an hour or so, even when there is nowhere else to go and nothing else to do.  Few of us live in the kind of tight-knit or geographically-centered communities that would allow for such a lifetime dedication. But the model might serve even for those of us who take on temporary roles within our own groups. If you are responsible for holding a particular piece for your community, perhaps you might try letting that role infuse your whole life, at least until you pass that role to another.  Instead of looking at your responsibilities as something that you do, maybe try to think of them as who you are.

EarthSpirit is at A Parliament of the World’s Religions this week in Toronto!  You can find more updates here and on our Facebook page.  

The next fire

by Chris LaFond

Burning away the failures of the year.
two years, really, maybe more.
Beehives, empty of bees
Yule trees from seasons past
Tomato plants and squash, stricken with blight
the dross of life quietly accumulates
Before I know it, there are
Mountains of trash
that I’ve been clinging to and
Saving beyond any usefulness.
Now the fire takes it away
on a warm fall day.
I face my failure and I feed it to the fire.
Flame cares not for successes and failures,
it hungers for both equally and consumes
leaving me free to learn,
free to be here today.
Tomorrow I will seek the next fire.