Remember That You Are Dust

            “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.”  These words are spoken on Ash Wednesday as ashes are placed on the forehead.  They are words that connect us deeply to the Earth.  We are dust.  Living, breathing dust.  And one day, we will return to dust. One of the great tragedies of our day is the disconnect so many of us have from the Earth.  We see her. We walk upon her. But do we remember that we are of Earth, that we are dust.
            I attended the Seminary of the Wild at Ghost Ranch in July.  We spoke of the Wild Self, the Wild Earth, and the Wild Christ.  Various times we were sent out onto the land to be and to listen and to walk.  (I wrote of one of these experiences in an earlier blog “The Invitation of the Lizard.) The experience I want to share today was the second time we were sent out onto the land.
            I walked out of the back of the building where we were meeting and headed to the place I had encountered the lizard earlier.  This time, no lizard.  I stood for a while and watched, then headed into the brush and down to a creek bed. The creek was shallow and narrow with water slowly flowing.  I sat alongside the creek in the sandy soil and ran my hands through the soil.  I listened.  I breathed.  I looked. I leaned into what was in that moment. 
I tried hard not to think or analyze or judge, which is hard for me to do.  To be present is hard for me.  To not put a desired outcome on an experience is hard for me.  Hard because not thinking, not judging, being present is not something I can will to happen.  All I can do is release, surrender to what is and that is hard.  It requires lots of practice.   This was a day of practice.
After awhile of sitting along the creek, I crossed the creek and headed deeper into the brush.  I sat under an old cedar bush and leaned against a limb that ran along the ground.  More breathing, more listening, more looking.  The soil here was also sandy.  I ran my hands through it, let the sand fall over my fingers back to the Earth.  The words that came to my mind and then to my mouth were “O God, O God, O God.”  A prayer from deep within me.
Then these words came forth.  “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.”  These words are connected to Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent in the Christian calendar, a time of reflection, sorrow, and repentance.  What was I being invited into, in this place, in this moment as my hands ran through the dusty, sandy soil?
I kept repeating the words, “remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.  Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.” I continued to dig deep into the dusty soil with my fingers.  A grief came welling up within, a deep grief.  I could not name it.  I didn’t know exactly what I was grieving but I did know it was my grief and a grief larger than me being experienced by me. I knew it was a grief connected to the Earth and connected to me.  It was a grief that had been gifted to me and yet had been with me all along. I know that part of my calling in this life is to sit in this grief, know it, welcome it, feel it deeply, and listen to it.  This grief has much to teach me. It is grief of the Earth.  Grief of the One Life.  Grief of all of Life.
This grief is my path to life.  Christ help me to be present for this grief is your grief.

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