photo of our gorgeous Grandmother, taken by student shawna schaub outside the WF Temple H(om)e.

Most Precious GrandMother,

ilg is so sorry…
on behalf of my Turtle Island Tribe of the Two-Leggeds,
ilg is sooooo sorry.

as a boy with a wolf,
you empowered my courage to fight the scariness of backcountry night.

as a climber
i would ascend sandstone spires, naked, taking unfathomable joy in
my simian strength beneath your glow among the pines.

as a yogi,
never does a day go by where i worship you not, Oh Precious ‘Tha”
of HaTha Yoga! For you are my Ida Nadi inside!

as a father,
my own Daughter has grown up giggling, screaming with Love for you…
“Tha” the Sanskrit word for you, was our Daughter’s first Spoken Word.
Each night, every morning

we hold her in our arms and search Father for your delightful, illumined Grace.

This morning,
my Tribe pile drove some fancy trash into your navel.

My People…
oh my People.

my People.

we cannot take Go(o)d Care of our own Mother (Earth) and Father (Sky)
so for some inexplicable instinct for demolishing assumed ‘frontiers’,
we sent a crude rocket to literally ‘fuck’ you this morning.

Grandmother, you should not be violently fucked by we, the very Tribe which You sustain
in your endless Dance…you should not be crudely fucked by we who have worshiped You
since our Tribe began.

On this morning of mornings,
beneath the Sacred Peak,
where, at this altitude, your Glory is so large we feel as if we can reach out
and touch you…
i hold Dewa in my arms and look up at you…
tears held back,
for a feeble yogi like ilg
could never explain to Dewa

our own Tribe would spend so much money,
cause such violence
on another plane(t),
when so much suffering and abuse
goes ignored and perpetuated upon our own Mother and Father.

regardless of how clever we perceive our outer technologies,
until we refine our inner technologies of meditation and appropriate action,
reaching external plane(t)s will not produce Joy, Peace, and Contentment.

after 47 years of living with You as my Grandmother,
like so much of my living now,
there will be a stab of hurt
within my cells
as i continue to love your hovering overhead.

the Can Do Clan beneath the Sacred Peak of Doko Oosliid
speaks for all Conscious Two-Leggeds;
and hopefully for my Noble Sangha of Wholeness…

are sorry.

are sorry.

are sorry.

Om Mani Padme Hung.


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