A Pagan Prayer of Thanks

I give thanks.

I give thanks, not because there should be a socially ascribed season for it. Not because of the unstable history on which the Thanksgiving holiday sits, a mile marker that sits on the long path of genocide, rather than fraternity.

I give thanks because flowers are still more powerful than guns. Because there are fathers who comfort their sons with strength and stability when the world seems out of control and when instincts tell us to run.

I give thanks because in these Tower Times, to be thankful is a revolutionary act. To not succumb to the forces of entropy and despair is to defy the foundations of a social order that benefits from them.

I give thanks because it keeps the wheel in motion. I give thanks for the white rhino. For the Everglades snail kite. For the Florida bonneted bat.

I give thanks in defiance of the ungrateful, in defiance of the easily manipulated, in defiance of fear itself. Fear being the most abundant of energies in our culture, it’s the easiest to dispel. Gratitude kills fear, by blessing and releasing it. Gratitude has the power to end hate. Yes is the answer.

I give thanks for comfort, for blessings, and I wish them upon everyone.

I give thanks for community, for common cause and the solace it brings.

I give thanks for dissenters, for rowdy radicals, for those who dare.

I give thanks for the gods and goddesses, for the ancestors and the spirits that inhabit the land, air, and sea.

I give thanks emphatically, ecstatically, with my flesh and blood, breath and bone.

I give thanks.

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