a visual journal, of sorts.
What if you just trust The unfolding? What if you believe That it is all coming together for your own good? No matter how you have been burned and forgotten and sorrow knows your name too well…what if those stories are only a part and not the whole of you? Allow your focus to soften… Continue reading
Light is finding you and singing over your whole body home. Let the love manifest and overwhelm your senses with ecstasy and truth. You are like the pine. Soft and gentle. But a force to behold. Your sweetness is nurturing and welcoming to your life fire. Let the goodness within spread and radiate into every… Continue reading
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.
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
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.
The biggest disadvantage of this little brick house is that on very cloudy days the internet is the pits. The hubby claims clouds and weather has nothing to do with cables and fibers and that seems very logical but I still disagree. Having lived in these walls for almost six years I know a few… Continue reading