Thought for contemplation :
“One river gives
Its journey to the next.” – Alberto Ríos
CONTEXT: “Got Leftovers?” examines what we carried with us to our Thanksgiving holiday tables, as well as what we left with. Sharing is optional.
Contemplative Reading #1
Remember by Joy Harjo
Remember the sky that you were born under,
know each of the star’s stories.
Remember the moon,
know who she is.
Remember the sun’s birth at dawn,
that is the strongest point of time.
Remember sundown
and the giving away to night.
Remember your birth,
how your mother struggled
to give you form and breath.
You are evidence of her life,
and her mother’s, and hers.
Remember your father.
He is your life, also.
Remember the earth whose skin you are:
red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth
brown earth,
we are earth. (BOTH speak together)
Remember the plants, trees, animal life
who all have their tribes, their families,
their histories, too.
Talk to them, listen to them.
They are alive poems.
Remember the wind. Remember her voice.
She knows the origin of this universe.
Remember you are all people
and all people are you.
Remember you are this universe
and this universe is you.
Remember all is in motion,
is growing, is you.
Remember language comes from this.
Remember the dance language is,
that life is.
Remember. (BOTH speak together)
Contemplative Reading #2
Where I’m From by George Ella Lyons
I am from clothespins,
from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride.
I am from the dirt under the back porch. (Black, glistening,
it tasted like beets.)
I am from the forsythia bush
the Dutch elm
whose long-gone limbs I remember
as if they were my own.
I’m from fudge and eyeglasses,
from Imogene and Alafair.
I’m from the know-it-alls
and the pass-it-ons,
from Perk up! and Pipe down!
I’m from He restoreth my soul
with a cottonball lamb
and ten verses I can say myself.
I’m from Artemus and Billie’s Branch,
fried corn and strong coffee.
From the finger my grandfather lost
to the auger,
the eye my father shut to keep his sight.
Under my bed was a dress box
spilling old pictures,
a sift of lost faces
to drift beneath my dreams.
I am from those moments–
snapped before I budded —
leaf-fall from the family tree.
Suggested Children’s Story/Story for All ages:
– Thankful Thanksgiving by Deb Adamson
Song:
“Open” by Judith Silver
Additional excerpts from Twinkle’s sermon:
“What did you bring to Thanksgiving?
What did you leave with?”
“Thanksgiving.
Was giving thanks part of the ritual of your day?
Whether you were alone or with the people of your origin, my guess is
that on this day you thought of them.
Your family. Your history.
It is the modern American tradition to do so. Thanksgiving is the “family holiday.
And we can’t help but think of them. And think of us with them.
Of us and them now.
And of us and them, back then.
Who they are,
Who we are,
Who we are together,
Who we are in each other’s absences.”
“What did you bring to Thanksgiving?
What did you leave with?”
“Many are alone at Thanksgiving,
Even those sitting with droves of family members. They are alone in their minds, breaths held – tongues bit longing for the event to come to its conclusion so they may, obligation fulfilled,
return to their regular routine, and be with people they actually want to spend time with, rather than the people they were born to, adopted by or married into.”
“What did you bring to Thanksgiving?
What did you leave with?”
“When in the thick of it,
when amid uncomfortable family conclaves, do we find ourselves drawing from a trunkful of grievances to arm ourselves for imminent battle? Do we prep and package our offenses and indignations and carry them in along with our sweet potato casseroles and cobblers,
hoping this will be the year we get the upper hand in the battle of wits and affronts. Do we show up with scores to settle and rights to prove them wrong. Or do we access memory’s cabinet of treasures to help sooth rougher edges of discord and conflict? Do we foster equanimity, even temperedness and compassion?”
“What did you bring to Thanksgiving?
What did you leave with?”