about interdependence

interdependence told with beautiful words, by Chris Weaver, a fellow open space practitioner, space-holder... thank you Chris!

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I may plant my garden, but I am not a farmer. And I know someone who is. I celebrate my dependence on how she cultivates her knowledge. And I enjoy it at my table.

I may repair a wall with mud and straw, but I am not a builder. And I know someone who is. I celebrate my dependence on how she cultivates her knowledge. And I awaken every morning looking up at her beams in the pre-dawn light.

I may pray for my son to recover from his illness and I may brew the tea that helps, but I am not a healer. I know someone who is. I celebrate my dependence on how he cultivates his knowledge. When my son runs across the field restored to wholeness, I leave gifts on his doorstep.

I may communicate with the Ancestors and the Guides, but I am not a shaman. And I know someone who is. I celebrate my dependence on how she cultivates her knowledge. When the whole village makes a swift turning to a new path following her understanding of one orphaned twelve-year-old's dream, I give thanks for her ways which I trust but do not understand.

I may make a pinch pot, but I am not a potter. I know someone who is. I celebrate my dependence on how she cultivates her knowledge. And I carry water from the spring house to my kitchen in her pots, and I dip in the dipper and I drink.

I may tell a story on a winter night, but I am not a storyteller. I know someone who is. I celebrate my dependence on how he cultivates his knowledge. I watch how the words enter the children's ears, alight in their hearts, and rise like sparks from that fire to shine in their eyes, which now have a glimpse of the whole ancient tree.

I may play a drum, but I am not a drummer. I know someone who is. I celebrate my dependence on how he cultivates his knowledge. Upon the callouses of his hands, for two days and nights straight, I make the journey through the heart of grief to the beach on the other side where the spring rain is falling softly on the new grass.

And so there are some people too who are called space-holders. I was born to be one, if not by birth than by birth-through-initiation. And so I pay attention and I cultivate my knowledge. I enjoy sharing and I enjoy watching the others stepping into the circle. And when those moments come when I am called upon, I do not doubt that it matters or that I am the right one. By my own choice each day and each moment, I am ready.