GB No. 4, spring 1991
In the beginning there was Chaos
beyond measure, formless nothing
filled with powers.
The first to from the depth was Gaia, fruitful Mother-Earth, feeding all.
It was she who created endless sky, mighty seas and wonderful mountains.
It was she, full of wisdom, who by her own power maintained harmony, certainty and spontaneity.
She created the force visible in every moment of this wonder which is everywhere.
She, the Mother.
All born from One became One.
Free-flowing breath, without beginning-end.
The smell, a joyful beacon.
With every step you touch the Earth, steadily. direction, the way is the stream.
The Sun is warmth, rise, repose. You are ready, open to all.
Fear, our long-time teacher, who shows side-tracks, disappeared.
The world, divided, torn into days, passes before our years.
Who sees? Who is seen?
I and the world. The beginning of separation.
Somewhere around, in the ruts moulded by education, science, religious dogma and the buzz of information flow, our sliced lives pass.
Traditions cut off from the roots, stiff in their infallibility, force us to perform rituals meaningless in the empty spaces of our habits.
Filled with alarm, you look for support, direction, purpose.
In the long corridors of the libraries smelling of dust and impotence.
In the offices of moguls selling of dust and impotence.
In the frenzy of fulfillment. Quicker and quicker.
You stop and listen attentively to the sounds of unity.
You are a warrior, a cat with soft paws, the wind in the mountains, the grass in the wolf's lair.
You are primeval wisdom found in all, the dauntlessness, the first rule - do not fear your own self.
You are Gaia's warrior.