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Remembering the sacred, nurturing the sacred, protecting the sacred.

I wondered what the first magical writing stream would be as I nest deeply into love with my wife and newborn daughter at home.

I heard, "You have always been seeking the sacred and protecting it; this is part of your mission." Me: "You mean mission as fatherhood?" Them: "Mission as fatherhood, husbandhood, community builder, land caretaker, displaced and vulnerable voices, and all the oppressed parts of the systems you live in."

I remember profoundly being a young teenager and engaging in Greenpeace's first campaign, "to save the whales." Indeed, the world in the 1980s was waking up to the first global awakening of the destruction of the Sacred Nature of the Earth.

As I look back on it and learn more about the whales as the whispered and elders of the Oceans, animist, shamanic, and elder perspectives offered me new lenses to reveal that the whales protect the sacred waters of the belly, the belly of the Earth.

The Prayer of the Belly, the whales and the deer

This belly we are all living in, the blue belly. The most majestic and ancient grandmothers Whales protect their sacredness, maintain the energetic lay lines of the oceans, and through their pooping, provide our vital breath. Whales support the production of phytoplankton, which contributes at least 50% of all oxygen to the Earth's atmosphere and captures as much CO2 as 1.7 trillion trees or four Amazon forests. Let that sink inside you as deep as the Ocean.

The call to the sacred started in this invisible thread of the Ocean web. It continued for a long time, returning me to my connection to the land, the ancient ways, the rituals, and the ceremonies.

When I can listen more deeply, it was and is the often mystical and invisible blue belly prayer that manifested my steps and my offerings.

As I witnessed my wife birthing on her own in a pool of water in our home, those memories and messages came through. "You are indeed walking this prayer for the ocean's great-grandmothers, the Earth, and your family."

The level of seeing into the Sacred that has opened up over the last few days is challenging to put into words. It feels like a portal out of space and time into a new pacha. Time is slow. Space is this high vibration of a new layer of love. And everything is seen through those lenses: my wife, my daughter, the land, my home, the world, and myself. Something profound shifts as we get closer to the great Mother's Prayer.

Indeed, through those lenses, the terror and unspeakable words of what has been done to the grandmothers, the mothers, and the children of the world is a deep cut into the sacred, the most precious, and ancient prayers we all shared. No words, stories, or beliefs can make any of this hurt acceptable nor make me stand in delusion without shaking and falling into great grief.

I see more clearly how this broken connection to the sacred in our world is the source of all our miseries and pains. How, in refusing the call towards it, we double down more deeply into our fate of destruction. How most of the systems we participate in want us far from it, cut from it, and why it is often ridiculed and destroyed. As in that space, the power and truth of inter-connectedness are impossible not to feel in the depth of our ancient bones.

Like many of you who have committed your lives to those sacred ways, I am called even more deeply into that prayer. To deeply unpack the falsity, we learned to survive and thrive in a world endangering and sickening itself.

I know more clearly than ever that there is no separation between the belonging with the lands, the prayers of the ancestors, the voices of the mothers, the life of the children, and the one great Spirit and Gods living within us and all sentient beings of this world. I see clearly that those rituals, ceremonies, and sacred songs are the portals into sacred belonging with the essence of the healed humanity.

There is a direct song line between my ancestors' songs, the calling of the whales in the Ocean, the land's sacred song, the footsteps of the Sacred White Deer, the birthing thunder of pain, the holy screams of my wife birthing our child, the crying and smile of my daughter, and the core of my Heart—the core of all Hearts.

It is just one song. One voice. One prayer. One same ancient Love rebirthing itself over and over again.

May we keep witnessing, nurturing, and protecting that song.

Angell Deer PS: I want to thank each and every one of you who reached out to send prayers, gifts, trees for the land, and more goodness for the birth of our child this week. Rose and I are immensely grateful for the generosity of this community.

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