With all things and in all things, we are relatives
A Native American dish
Heaven and Earth
Who gave me her stone to build my house from? Who gave me her wood to build my fire from? Who gave me her water to drink from? Who gave me her fruit to eat from?
Was that not you my dear mother Earth? But, my dear mother Earth, for what it's worth I love you too!
And who gave me the ability to weep and to laugh to love and to hate to sift the grain from the chaff and to determine my own fate?
Was that not you my dear old heavenly father? Why then, my dear old heavenly father, are you such a big mystery to me?
