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I call out to a place on the other side of the Earth from me: 
The Tasman Sea. I once cast an offering stone there.
I gave a bit of myself to a stone from my land
and hurled it to the sea.
It settled there. 
A gift from my land.

Fiords. Mountains. Glaciers.


I call out to a place off the tip of South African continent.
The end of land, the Cape of Good Hope, where 
two oceans come together, cold and warm.
I cast my stone gift 
where they merge and swirl.

Winds of Eucalyptus-scented soil. Currents of two oceans.


I call out to the winds and high craggy cliffs of Ireland,
near an old pagan ruins called Céide Fields.
Barren fields. Peat. Crashing waves. Sheep. Ancient ruins.


I call out to a place called Arenal, in Costa Rica.  
Miles from the semi-active volcano, There is a single old tree in a field,
standing about one hundred feet tall. 
There is an opening in the base. I walked in and buried my gift stone.

Rainy, dusty-scented soil. Howler Monkeys. Glowing volcano.


I call out to a place in the cloud forest above a village 
near Pico de Orizaba, Mexico. A lush land, fertile and volcanic.
I bury my gift in this place of the clouds.
Rich trees. Misty forest in the clouds. Dewy banana trees. Jungle.


I call out to a place at the bottom of the Grand Canyon,
named "The Subway". A river runs under ground. 
My son carried my gift offering for me.
He cast it into the water. As it settles, I feel his gratitude 
for this beautiful place, and know it nourishes his character.

Water-carved red canyon. Sacred water, the greatest sculptor.


I call out to costal land in Puerto Rico. My gift was carried by
my sister-daughter, to a beach, where she left it near a big boulder.
Sun. Tide. Island waves.


I call out to a place in the canyon lands: Canyon de Chelly.
A great, eroded rock land, carved by partners:  wind and water. 
Passing through a tunnel in massive rock, I place a stone in a deep niche in the wall,
halfway down to the floor of the canyon. 
It is quiet at the floor, where the only sounds are Cottonwoods talking to the wind 
and the wing beats of two Ravens circling overhead. 

Red rocks. Gentle wind. Two Ravens. Beauty. Palpable sadness of ancient peoples.


I call out to a place in the California Redwood forest, where the
ancient ones still live.  My son leaves my gift buried at the foot of 
a 400 year old Redwood tree. My heart soars, to know of this.
Giant pine cones. Cushioned ground. Pine scent. Essence of the elders.


I call out to a river canyon, named "Unkar Delta” by the Paiute.
It means “red rock”.  My gift to this river is plunged into the muddy water, where it has settled forever. 
Red rocks. Fast water. Ancient dwelling place. 
The points of these offerings, form a web of connection. This web includes the land where I live. 

I wanted to give to these places, instead of taking from them.  They are places of breath-taking beauty, that filled me. 
There will be a time when I need to summon the energies from this web of beauty, as spiritual support, in important work.