This house is much older than it seems,
every detail embodies a long strand of memories
of all of our moments, which lead us exactly right here
of every morning circle which draws our hearts near.
Of the ancientness of mountains that brought us sand
of the timeless texture of mud left on our hands.
This house is shaped as slowly as stone,
loved and protected, each a piece of our own.
Every trowel with the perfect grip,
every rock on the terrace in a perfect fit,
and every day to emanate Relationship.
Our spirits have magnetized mysteriously,
materialized, and realized completely
in 13 hour days we're not growing weary.
Seven billion people, and our footsteps brought US as one,
the imprint of story come to watch the setting sun.
Oh, the sunsets! How they open my heart!
Oh, the light and the clouds and the trees: the best art!
The landscape of the day’s rises and falls
become topography of our stories written into the walls.
We work together, never fully alone
surrounded by old friends:
clay, sand, wood, water, and stone.
I am standing on the portch outside,
and I’m loosing myself in the texture of lime.
I am only the weight of a muddy trowel hanging comfortably in my hand
only the wave of feeling all kinds of beings working well on this land.
Manure on the walls and in the garden below me,
and I, the bringer of Raspberry Savoring Ceremonies.
I see our hands reaching out and rubbing the air
and right where our hands stop, a house appears there.
Shelter, sweet shelter, for our spirits and Souls
for so many beings to now call this place “Home”.
How many hands have touched this place?
And two hundred years from now,
will every square inch the air be graced
by the presence of a bee or a bird,
or butterfly or a bug?
And the vibrational echo of every loving hug?
Thank you to those tending this place before us,
Thank you for working with us in Trust.
May our presence be welcome, loving, and kind.
May we co-create beauty each moment of time.
Each who comes, Welcome, Forevermore.
Weave your story into our local Lore.
Home is our Forever-Place taken to
Wherever-Place that we are.
Our Home is with us, even when we're afar.
All work is sacred, no matter how temporary...
so let us bring our Forever into contemporary.
This house, not my own, but it is part of my Home,
created and crafted and cared for with Soul.
I feel the oldness and wisdom of rock
Watching over us, sturdy, while our hearts ever unlock.
We know healing happens through a mutual melting
an enzymatic shift of spirit smelting.
We listen and grow to a mirroring edge
and watch swallows swoop ‘round and under the ledge.
We bundle up for beach sunsets at the end of the day
and loose stones we keep close, an invitation to play.
We have sang every day, and we will sing sweet and strong,
and I feel as though Humans have done this all along.
The ageless feeling persists in the lime
these walls will become harder and smoother with time.
Water washes a sheen and the rock’s colours glow
and soon these walls, too, will cure back into stone.
every detail embodies a long strand of memories
of all of our moments, which lead us exactly right here
of every morning circle which draws our hearts near.
Of the ancientness of mountains that brought us sand
of the timeless texture of mud left on our hands.
This house is shaped as slowly as stone,
loved and protected, each a piece of our own.
Every trowel with the perfect grip,
every rock on the terrace in a perfect fit,
and every day to emanate Relationship.
Our spirits have magnetized mysteriously,
materialized, and realized completely
in 13 hour days we're not growing weary.
Seven billion people, and our footsteps brought US as one,
the imprint of story come to watch the setting sun.
Oh, the sunsets! How they open my heart!
Oh, the light and the clouds and the trees: the best art!
The landscape of the day’s rises and falls
become topography of our stories written into the walls.
We work together, never fully alone
surrounded by old friends:
clay, sand, wood, water, and stone.
I am standing on the portch outside,
and I’m loosing myself in the texture of lime.
I am only the weight of a muddy trowel hanging comfortably in my hand
only the wave of feeling all kinds of beings working well on this land.
Manure on the walls and in the garden below me,
and I, the bringer of Raspberry Savoring Ceremonies.
I see our hands reaching out and rubbing the air
and right where our hands stop, a house appears there.
Shelter, sweet shelter, for our spirits and Souls
for so many beings to now call this place “Home”.
How many hands have touched this place?
And two hundred years from now,
will every square inch the air be graced
by the presence of a bee or a bird,
or butterfly or a bug?
And the vibrational echo of every loving hug?
Thank you to those tending this place before us,
Thank you for working with us in Trust.
May our presence be welcome, loving, and kind.
May we co-create beauty each moment of time.
Each who comes, Welcome, Forevermore.
Weave your story into our local Lore.
Home is our Forever-Place taken to
Wherever-Place that we are.
Our Home is with us, even when we're afar.
All work is sacred, no matter how temporary...
so let us bring our Forever into contemporary.
This house, not my own, but it is part of my Home,
created and crafted and cared for with Soul.
I feel the oldness and wisdom of rock
Watching over us, sturdy, while our hearts ever unlock.
We know healing happens through a mutual melting
an enzymatic shift of spirit smelting.
We listen and grow to a mirroring edge
and watch swallows swoop ‘round and under the ledge.
We bundle up for beach sunsets at the end of the day
and loose stones we keep close, an invitation to play.
We have sang every day, and we will sing sweet and strong,
and I feel as though Humans have done this all along.
The ageless feeling persists in the lime
these walls will become harder and smoother with time.
Water washes a sheen and the rock’s colours glow
and soon these walls, too, will cure back into stone.
Photo by Deanna Pumplin, Living Prayer House, Port Townsend Ecovillage
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