a visual journal, of sorts.
Balance Is an illusion that they sell At all the places Telling you to try this and that because surely it will fill in all the holes you offer to the world What if you ask them if these holes could be of any use instead? What would they say? Would they encourage you to… Continue reading
Your sorrow Does not define you It is not the bump that must extracted Instead hold it tenderly Pour your love upon it Serve it treats upon your best pottery. Embrace your tears like long lost lovers who you yearn to catch up with and send on their way to something better… Something holy.
You are not a science experiment You were not sent here to prove anyone’s theories or thesis That is not your purpose. You are not here to prop Up egos or opinions You are a child of the holy one A black sunflower Shining moon light and truth Beyond your own smallness Into the timelessness
Freedom Is a feeling that becomes you. Be gentle with yourself as you are stirred and moved more into yourself. Don’t be so intoxicated with your own stuff that you forget to give love/ Out of your fullness. Know that you are beginning with your heart and healing so it won’t be perfect /still your… Continue reading
What does it look like To allow your soul To be? To manifest with ease? Everything that works together For you good? Where does that place of power and light live in you body? Does it even know your name these days? Of course it does. Because it never forgot you. It never will. How… Continue reading
You can’t control it all Honor it all Or feel it all Allow it to be It is a messy goodness Sometimes sharp and weakening And still you must rise Into your work and your soul. Find the sounds that bring you back. Call yourself daily like a long distance lover Until you are close… Continue reading
I have seared the Napa cabbage and mushrooms. Brewed the green and nettle tea and laid the table for a feast. For the first time in a long time I hear you (or is it me) say- you have come back to me. To love. Because you know the truth that- Real love brings us… Continue reading
There has to be a part of me. Of us. Of life. With all it’s sorted parts. That keeps reaching. Not only for light but dirt. And flowers. Paper and water. Look. Feast. Thrive. Sit down. In the meantime on the remains of last winter and the winter before with dirty toes and open hands.… Continue reading
As much as I resist the colors, the scribbles and the faces just find their way here. I don’t know what I have it on my mind to make when I sit down but right now these are the things my soul speaks onto the page.