I stood beside the River today

"Twirling Home"

Standing beneath the Pine Tree
from on high my eyes can see
dancing and twirling merrily,
the ice floating down.

The sounds the River can sing
from the clinkety crystalline of spring
to the crush and scrape these ice chunks bring,
as they make their grinding sound.

All edges and jaggedness wearing away
the ice travels onwards, but here I stay
feet planted on this Land, upon which I pray
that the River of Faith make me round,

too!

There is me and there is you,
and so many more of us too!
We can journey along, sinsonging our songs
open and ready
feeling deeply strong and so steady.

At our core we are more
dense than even the nucleus of the Stars!

So we bump and then grind
sparkle dust dispersing to shine
on all that it encounters.

And then someday we find
all the magic of being mutually entwined
reveals our own roundabout way home.

We float and we stride
side by side, ride the ride!

And remember, we are never
and have never been
alone.

Losing track(s)

"Lost but not Found"

I am not sure how much many
I am supposed to do. To be.

Certainly more than I am.
I can never be enough.

If I could just be more and better
Then maybe he would not have let her
Into his arms?

Surely this was proof of my uncouth ways.

Will I be safe from all pain
If I can be just the same
As the best person ever?

Will money and prestige
And making sure everybody likes me
Mean that I will never
Have to hurt again?

There is always one more poem to write
Always a reason to end this fight
I should be able to choose even more light!

Right?

I have lost track of how much more I should do.
Maybe all this searching will never lead me to true.
Maybe I am already perfectly new
And fresh.

Like the snow that keeps falling.
We can shovel it away while the children are balling
it up to make fluffy, breakable projectiles.

And if we rest just awhile, the blanket can cover
The wounds brought about by one too many past lovers.
No paths out there for me to take, it is time I discover

That the Garden of Love
In my metaphorical Heart
Is what I am
And there is no part of me
That is not already perfect and free.

How many before tomorrow?

"There is still time"

I think that tomorrow is the end.
I will have made it.
I think.
I must write though.

Hopefully the words can flow
From my finger tips.
Soft lips whispering inside my head
As I type...

Writer.
Am I?

"This Morning"

I want to be the kind of Mother
The Mother that never makes them wonder
I want to be the kind of Mother
That is always a kinder Mother
Than I was last time.

Oh the words don't rhyme
When I yell.
"Mommy! Stop talking mean to me."
Guilt. I yelled. Again.

This guy just won't be reasoned with.
Spirited. The book says.
"Like regular children, but more."

Me too. I am more. And never too much (for the right people).
More emotions. More perceptive. More intense.

All this simply means: Apply More Love.
And sometimes my cup runs out.
I tried to take a time out!
Last night.
What a joke. He spoke with tears of abandonment when I left the room.
There must be some other tools to keep us all living and loving along.

I sing songs. We pray.
And at the end of each day
We all know how much we love one another.
I guess, at least
I am that kind of  Mother.

Not a perfect one.
But we do have fun.
And the love flies free
Fluttering joyously
Amidst my Sonshines and me.

"Did you just lick my foot"

I will let you be a puppy
If it means you eat your supper

I will let you run all wildly
If it calms your energy and you mildly
Snuggle in tight.

Tonight, you bounced and giggled.
You squirmed and wiggled.
We laughed and maybe tickled
Awhile.

Sometimes you lick.
Sometimes you swear!
Sometimes you even disappear
And hide on me.

You ate that candy from the sidewalk.
You covered the walls in coloured chalk.
You filled the toilet with paper and squeezed it.
You sniffed the pepper and then you sneezed it
all over the place!

And then, when I sing,
(like Buffy Sainte Marie)
You keep on doing
all the things
"Just  like little kids do"

Except you are more likely to pee
On a great big tree
than in a puddle.

"That I Might Climb a Mountain, Even Once I am Old and Grey"

I saw Buffy recently
She speaks and composes so eloquently
For the people who have long been silenced
Who have been oppressed and treated with violence

And she is still carrying on
So damn strong
At the age of 78
She looks better than great

I watched her move about that stage
Filled with hope; thrusting love at the rage
We should all feel when we realize
The injustice of the Treaties broken before our very eyes.

I intend to use my voice too
I don't quite know yet what I can do
But act in service to Creator I must
Placing my Faith in the Great Mystery, I trust

That I can make a difference too someday
Strong enough to climb mountains, even once I am old and grey.

1 - 2 - 3 - ... 4?

One, two, three, four
Nobody knows what is in store

Five, six, seven, eight
Time now to appreciate

What am I here for?
This message I can hear more

Clearly now:

"You are for what everybody is for Mama. For love."

And so, once again.
As below, so above.

If that meant anything, I suppose.

Meaning grows when we energize on it.
Best intend for love to spawn it
Spawn more and more and more Love and Joy
All within, there is no magic toy
Outside of self.

Nothing to hide from. Look darkness in the face.
There is no race to the end.
All moments depend
on the quality of what I intend.

Last Daycare before 8am Start until 2020

I almost got it right
This Earthling such a delight
This morning.

He did not rise without warning.
No.

I had to wake him.
His sleeping cherub face
I rubbed his forehead
He stretched a little
And settled back into slumber
Eyes moving beneath lids
Eyelashes long and beautiful

I grow beautiful children.

"Are you waking up?"
I gently asked.
I hear my Grandmothers voice inside my head:
"Never wake a sleeping baby."

But I must. He will ask:
"Do I have school?"
Yes, little sweetie. You do.
"And you have French?"
Yes, little sweetie. I do.

The floor in the bathroom is warm.
I even start the car to warm it up today!
Except, it isn't really that cold out.

We leave with plenty of time.
No sighs. No cries. Food ate. No fear of being late!

This is so great.

I win at this solo parenting thing.

We arrive and head in.
Both of us wearing a grin
And enjoying this day.

As we begin to head up the stairs
He stumbles and places his hand
exactly where...
my foot is about to land.

Oh! The tears. The face. The sadness. He feels betrayed!

"Mama! You stepped on my fingers!"

I kiss him. I rock him. I say that I am sorry.
"Ouch. That must have really hurt."
Validate these huge feelings
Mine own are already reeling

A warm smile greets us. I explain what happened.
I pass my child, now calm, into the arms of the dearest most gracious caregiver
And I am grateful for her and for all the people that work there.

And I leave. Still on time.
Wondering what it is we are doing on the Earth.
Trying to forgiving myself for harming the Angel I birthed.

Wondering if I will ever get it all right
someday.

French Fries Never Die

The fry is still there
At the top of the stairs
And I am wondering where
The cleanliness lies

One, Two then I am through (with November)

"one"

Somedays it is harder to find Time

So the underlying rhyme

and rhythm of life

Stay stifled beneath the strife

Of being too busy.

Ah! To be alone with Me.

Such a delicious and necessary place to be.

I have a date

With myself

And I can't wait

Time will tell

If I can learn to get along 

With the magical wilderness 

That my existence does encompass

Or maybe comprise?

Too long have I sighed

With eyes closed 

Mind filled with lies

That kept my Heart closed off.

Maybe somebody judged

Perhaps they did scoff

More likely than not

They burned my ass

For the thoughts

My words might inspire.

So many women thrown to the fire...

Now we must be brave again

Break the chains of mind-patterns

That were born from the need to survive

Amidst the tangible, analytical,

More than maniacal and so critical

Bondage of this surface-level 

Society that turned entirely too Patriarchal.

The Balance was lost.

And so, too, were we.

The return to free

Will be

Found in the all-encompassing embrace

Of both sides of every possible face

Masculine. Feminine.

Earth-centred. Stars again.

There is space for All.

None need be deemed to tall, too short

Too Wild: A cohort 

Of True fully formed Humans.

Soul to Soul.

And Heart to Heart. 

"two"

And for all this Time

Since when We began

There has always been One constant True:

In the beginning, there was Me and You too.

Moldavite Loving

Oh the luxury
of an empty page

A year begins, all is new
All that I knew is set free from its cage
For no matter the age
This present moment is always True

Oh You! You do love me too.

Day one of my next orbit around the Sun

I wonder if you and I
had already begun

When Lucifer fell from the Sky

Bringing six trillion megatonnes
of Light melting rock
the impact, the shock
Rewriting magnetisms and turning clocks
Fusing Earth-matter with Star-talk

Whispering new energy
Shaking ever so subtly
Merging and dancing
Destroying and thus chancing

Creation in its truest form:
Something never before born
                                    Is on the way.

For today, May we stay,
                         Nowhere too long.

For today, May we play,
                         And dance to Love's song.

For today, May we pray,
                         Knowing that nothing is wrong.

What is True need not fight.
What is Real needs no might
                                  to defend it.

Heart resonance can bend it...
Bend and mend all of it
                                Back into shape.

The Light, the crash.
The terrific bash
of Heaven and Earth
Did birth Me and You too.

Nothing left for us to do
                             But to love one another

Respect and Honour our Earth Mother

While caring for each and every Other
                           Mother, Father, Sister, Brother

And the Child that lives
                             at the Heart of it All.

Drifting in the in between

The space in between
Where icy cold Blue and fiery Red transmute
Where me and You
lose our edges

Pledges and lies
So long I have cried
Longing for a love that aligns
With cosmic elation

Is my station
in life
To cry and to die over and over again?

Push them away. All away.
Even my children are gone half of the time.

Alone. Is that what I chose?
That song. The Rose.
Will the winter of my Heart ever melt?

I have felt
Deep Love

But I shove it away.
If this continues, alone I will stay.

(Is that what I want? After all?)

Creator, please answer my call:
How do I live my Best Life?
How do I set down this Pain and Strife?

I already have everything I will ever need
"And some say Love, it is a razor. That leaves the Soul to bleed."

11 years ( I love you Grandma)

A power number
I can use that right now
I am sorry to say
That it seems I somehow

Got all wrapped up in sadness and blame
And decided that life was a very hard game
to play.

And hey!
It is.
If we try to anticipate, to manipulate
to force what we want to create
into existence.

Resistance. How much energy wasted on wishing things were different than they are?

If the Universe is an entirely friendly place, well, then! I am simply grateful for All.

It is what it is. We are what we are.
But the word-voice in my head
Does not speak the language of the Star
That birthed me.

The tyranny of understanding this or that why
Most thought-forms (especially the loud ones) are speaking in lies.

Thank you. I thank you. Little liar in my head.
I would like it, I think, if you just went to bed.
Or maybe, quite simply, I should try:
"Shut up little man! Shut up little man!"
You are making my cry.

And there I go again, breaking my own glow-filled heart.
Tearing reality apart to choose sadness and pain.
But no longer will I say: "Sing it again"
Oh, Mommy. Addicted to sadness since who knows when?

Time to kiss my mad, sad ass and get glad then!

11 years since I heard the wisdom of your Truth
My head upon your chest as you spoke of your youth.

And oh! What a time! It renders my complaining a crime
Knowing what you survived.

When people ask me who my Hero is, I don't have to think.
My Grandma. Dear Grandma. But don't ask for a drink.

"If you are hungry, catch a Bungry."
And if thirsty, my dear? The answer is obvious (though not entirely clear)
A Bursty!
So now I am bursting, re-birthing, and extinguishing Fear

In a world of relativity, when suffering waits on standby, ever so near
I choose to embrace every aspect
Wondering if it makes sense to Reflect...
Anything other than Love.

Married to Pain

Absentmindedly.
That is the theme of the past few days.
And this morning, without thinking
I put my big crystal ring on my "wedding ring" finger.

The pain shot through me!
I forgot about the cut...
Where glass sliced like Reality (but with more blood)

The sound of glass
Shattering hopes and dreams
realities that seemed
so possible

Are they still?
Will this finger always be taken
By a stone of protection?
My affection for All
Safe and from a distance...

So I can never fall from the height of Love's tower.
Walls that I thought crumbled
Somehow gained more power

After that last love-attempt
"Shot through the Heart"
Song resounding in my mind
As the X-ray machine tries to find
If anything was broken by the blow
The one that did throw me across the room.

Healing will come when it does.
Never quite as soon
As I might hope.

A scar will form in the place of a ring.
Reminding of the consequences of my commitment to pain.
Wounds can heal, but scars never go.
It is time for me to begin to know.
It wasn't my fault. I did nothing wrong.
Forgiveness sets me free, like I have been all along.

Yesterday

I am so loved. So grateful.

Yesterday started today.
I hear an Angel voice say:
"Then you can wake up and make coffee. It will be all clean and ready."

This friendship is more than steady.
I am blessed beyond measure.
This Woman is a treasure.

She came and made soup.
Cleaned up and baked bread.
The children helped and learned.
She cradled my head.

The pain lessened. And I learned.
I can lean in to love. It is my turn.
To finally feel safe.

Embrace this Life.
A little more, I see.
Their is Pain and Strife.
Yes.
But it isn't me. It isn't me.

I am Love. And we are all Free.

The day after

The day after
Extreme persistent pain
(in the form of a migraine)
Always feels like a fresh new start

The part where I woke up, kicked legos in the dark
Then heard the kids bark (ok, shout): "Mama! Where are you?'

6:30am, I was planning a quiet coffee alone
Maybe meditate and write this poem...

They woke up. But oh well.
I am writing and feeling swell!

So much more swell than yesterday
When colours was fluctuating between only black or grey.

En tout cas. Here I am.

And I am well on my way.
To awesome. To balance.
To remebering that everything is okay.

Humming

I have a few minutes
to hum
and hope

I can calm down
Feet on the ground

humming and breathing

Catching up

The Sonshine told me this
One day long ago:
"Mama. You have to be your most important person to yourself."

He was little and so fucking wise.
I am swearing today.
The grief I carry is currently masked by anger.
(Anger is so useful for getting things done)

Sigh. But I
Don't know
What is so
the matter.

Too many flames being juggled in the air
So many people I have to take care
of.

And me? I give myself morsels and crumbs at best
Difficult to cook a healthy meal
Unless there is someone else to feed.

Self-care! Self-care! Shout it from the mountain tops!
What a flop, there are no drops left in me
to spare. How can I care for myself when I have nothing left to give?

Edges and edges and ropes with no ends.
I break and break more wondering how I might bend
these old destructive patterns into something bright and new!

Maybe it is less about something I must do...
And more about saying: "I choose not to do that."
This or that thing. Taking off one or two hats
The ones that never quite fit right
The ones that caused too many big fights

Internal battles between the disjointed crew...
My inner Helpers with expressions askew:
"Why is she wearing that again?
Didn't she learn from the last time when
We pretended to be something other than True?"

Colours and hues
And darkest shades of Blue
I know the depths well
Only time will tell
If I am brave enough to be

The very most important person to Me.

Hurting

Coming back down

Certain I will drown

in the Pain of infinity

If I let anyone too near to me.

Embodied. Come back in.

What do I do then with the chagrin?

The deep intrinsic sadness

Convinced of my own badness

Unable to forgive some horrible sin

that I can not even understand...

Nothing makes sense.

Nothing but false pretense.

All is well, all is well

Nothing wrong. So strong...

I am. Yes.

But these feelings too...

If the only way out is through

What can I do

If I crumble to pieces?

Will a blast of lightning Pain

Finally drown out the rain

and the tears and the clouds

The screaming voices, so loud?

And magically leave me whole again?

Feel it to heal it! They blithely say...

I can't feel anymore today.

Choosing safety. Choosing numbness.

Losing patience. Refusing dumbness.

As in the original meaning of no voice

We do always have choice.

Our most powerful tool. Stronger even than love.

It comes down to choice. But quickness must also be honed

I want to make choices of love 

before my reactions leave me crying again

feeling so alone

 

Falling behind

If I write two today and then two more tomorrow
I will be free from the impending sorrow
Of failing at my intended goal.

The dear Soul
that kept me from writing
Is with his Dad tonight.

Oh the plight
of single-parenting.

He screamed a lot yesterday.
We did play.
With legos mostly. I fed him toast-he
threw on the floor.

We did manage to eat, ok...
I fed him a hot dog.
And peppers and arugula
But, well, hey!
I am doing the best I can.

I needed contact lens solution
But in order to get it I would have had to pack him up too.
This, I wasn't willing to do (what with coats and hats and boots...)
So we made due.

I also have the flu. Or at least a wicked cold.
Coughing and snot
Ears aching a lot.

The screaming became intense. He hadn't napped.
Have you ever fallen into the trap
of trying to reason with an overtired already spirited three-year old?
I need not be told
It is a challenge that brings many to their knees
Begging please, please, please...

But that doesn't work.
Fire does though!
I lit the sweet grass.
In for five...out for five...
Breathed it in. And out.
Smoke trailing into the air. All around his body, his hair.
He stops screaming. Like magic.
Whatever was so tragic
Is over now.
Wow.

I am grateful. He is back.
We read stories.
Light turns to black night.
We pray then we sleep.
So deep. So sweet.

And now, just one extra poem tomorrow and I am back on track!

I wonder, what will they say?

Your presence was missed again today.
Two months since I have seen your sweet face.
Angel auburn hair framing sweet freckled cheeks
A voice so mild and gentle, but not exactly meek.

No. Not meek, but so very brave.
I can only guess at why you went away
Your energy so serene and so kind
I hadn't the luxury of also learning your mind.

And though this cruel world did hurt you,
You remain the epitome of feminine virtue.
I can only hope and pray that you are all right
And wish that I could have saved you from that fateful night.

Was it night? Or day? I can not say.
I do so hope that I see you again someday.

Feeling the Spectrum

Tears seeping into clenched hands.
Laughter erupting as I dance.

Let go of this trance called Pleasure and Pain.
Beneath all this, We are one. And the Same.

You and me. He and we. They and her. All a blur
Of colours and sounds, emanations melting into the sands
of time
Placing hands humbly on the ground.
Palms down.

Thank you Mother Earth. For supporting every moment of this life.
Thank you for my own birth, Mother and Father of mine.
Thank you to those who have loved me along the way.
Thank you for those who are brave enough to stay.

By my side. This wild ride. It is a beautiful dance.
Stalking my own mind for the voice that tells lies.
It speaks of things that are not so
My task is thus to ask it, though:

Is this true? And this too?
And is what I knew
the same as what I now know?

Travelling yesterday (Nov. 16 poem)

I was on the road yesterday. I jotted down the following, not quite a "poem" by any standards, in my notebook:


Maybe I could write a quick haiku?
But then again, seventeen syllables could never encapsulate the depth of this day.

To play! To laugh and to sing.
The Joy my heart can bring to this Universe...

When I am aligned rather than cursed to believe the lies my storyteller weaves
Small spider in the snow. Will you weave again tomorrow? Or did you freeze not long after I held you in the palm of my hand? Where must you land in order to thrive?

When I am happy, when I can see clearly
with a mind that is fear-free...

Oh dearly. There are many who would do anything to be loved like this.
So what is the problem? Can the problem quite simply be that nothing is the matter?

Sleepy brain. Relaxed. Soaked in minerals from the Womb of Gaia.
Free from pain. Made tracks on the lake where Angels or Soldiers dwell.

The blessing of being here on this Earth, of walking and loving next to you...

But again my mind begins to worry...hurry back to me. Talk to me. Walk with me. Tell me everything will always be ok...at least for today, we did pretty good, didn't we?

The internet said that feeling paradoxical is a sign of something toxical in the waters. But dear sons and daughters, a wise man once wrote:

"THE PARADOX IS ONE OF OUR MOST VALUED SPIRITUAL POSSESSIONS…ONLY THE PARADOX COMES ANYWHERE NEAR TO COMPREHENDING THE FULLNESS OF LIFE." Carl Jung   

Just a Few Moments

Pressed for time.
Words that rhyme
Don't always carry the most meaning.

Is that what words do?
Carry meaning for you?
Or does understanding seep through
Due to assumptions regarding what is and is not true?

Deep rhythmic rhyming and scheming
Words pulsing, ripe with meaning...
But if they have no hands to carry the intention I set
Do they not simply let
it fall to the earth?

Can we birth unintended forces
by taming the wild horses
of emanations, of vibrations
turning elation into chopped up pieces

Such as: The glory of her arms around my hips, her lips pressed softly against my...

oh my! We can try to describe the experiences of life.

And then send images and sounds bursting forth
watering seeds from the ground of the Source

The sources? What forces really are at play?
Yes. You may hear what I say.
But can we ever really know what we mean?
Do I even? Understand the Joy, the Pain unseen
And still deeply felt.

"Just the Way" A poem for my Grandpa Willy on his Birthday

"Just the Way"

Today. The 14th of November.
I usually remember
Grandma's voice on the line.
(Was I in Japan? Or some other far-away land?)

I can see her sitting peacefully
at her telephone bench (such a novelty when she bought it!)
next to her dial-tone phone with the giant numbers.

She permeates an energy as serene as Heaven must be
as she reminisces.

"Today would have been Willy's birthday." She tells me.
"I made him hot cocoa on the stove with milk, sugar, and real cocoa. Just the way he liked it."

Is that what Love is?
Knowing just the right way to serve our Beloveds?

I spoke with my father, his own father long gone.
"Yep. Dad would have been 105 today."
The measure of years no longer smacks of life ended too soon.

I never knew his sparkling eyes,
never witnessed his happiness as he danced,
never heard his laughter as he played.

I love to dance too. And though I never met you
I caught glimpses of the man you were
Through remembered Merry Dish-mops
Through talk of home made cream puffs
All the good stuff that memories can hold...

But I wonder, what stories would you have told?
Of your childhood? Your siblings?
Did you propose to Grandma with an engagement ring?

She said it was your smile that caught her eye.
She told me you didn't like thin lips.
Don't worry! Ours are all thick and full.

I never did see your eyes shine
But I do know just how they sparkled
For every descendant of your magical Mumm line
Has that twinkle of mischief–the light of Joy Divine.

One poem per day for 40 Days!

On November 11th I began a 40 Day Yoga journey. I think that when I started this blog many moons ago it was with the intention of writing every day for 40 Days.

Today I found myself to be very inspired and wrote 3 poems! That means I could catch up on November 12th, 13th and then have a poem for today, the 14th.

And so, my pledge is to write and post one poem per day for 40 Days.

November 12th:

"Sweeping Up Angels"

Clearing space

Crumbs and dust

Have left their trace

Upon the places we have gathered.

First sift through

Removing the tiny plastic building blocks

Of creation that You,

Beloved children, seem to spew from your pores.

Open closet doors

Finding secret filth cast aside

Left behind for another time where more

Energy is available.

Grains that have fallen from the table

Sprinkled amidst the debris

Food, hairballs, and specks all capable

of building a new empire.

And there, shining amongst the old, tired

particles...a sailboat and the Queen

Two discs refracting light like fire

That shines on a cold dark night.

I gently save them from the plight

of cheerios and dead skin cells

Then place them with the crystals right

Where two Angels might just rest awhile. 

November 13th:

"Residue" 

Refresh. Renew.

I love True! I do.

So why does a plague of uncertainty

Return endlessly to torture me?

I awoke! ...At least some (what?)

Feeling, for the moment, much less glum :D

Filled with potential to rain torrential 

Creativity and Love upon this Earth!

I am rebirth: reincarnation and eternal damnation

Rolled and moulded into one beautiful...

I (eye?)...am Holy, Wholly, woe-ly and slowly...

coming to the conclusion that certainty is an illusion.

Nothing stays the way it was. 

Consciousness is in flux, evolving as do we...

I see, I see...Mind is Alive!

For me to truly thrive

I can let those horses ride!

Without bridle, without reins.

Dancing boldly with wild manes 

flying in the wind.

Free.

I begin to see. 

Control of this cosmic mind is not mine to claim.

Whirling in beautiful concentric circles

Destroying any notions that time could possibly be linear...

But it is!

When we measure it, in minutes, in pauses.

Perhaps I best write myself a constitution with few clauses:

Your constitution is impeccable: change nothing.

The remnants of smoke that intermittently cloud Reality

Offer opportunities to breathe clear again 

To wake, to shake free

Releasing suppositions of what should or should not be.

What is Real? Baby? 

It is certain that you are, and also, please remember, me (too). 

Awaken

Awake in the night
Almost morning light
All right, all right.
I'll write.

Awake at last.
Everything seems a little clearer
Joy and Peace creeping nearer

I am Home.
Not alone.
No sins to atone.

I am Safe.
In this place
Dropping the masks from my face.

I am loved
From above
And all around me too.

You. and you. You too. And three
I see now
And what I allow

Is Kindness. Respect.
No need to direct
The luminous Love of existence
I surrender all resistance.

This is my life!

I am perfectly all right.
And grateful. And proud.
My voice singing out loud

Glory and Joy
Blessed by two Amazing Boys.
Blessed by Love.
Blessed by Family.

I can gently do all that is asked of me.
With humility. With Grace.
Mixing leather with lace.

Enjoying all moments dispersed through space.
Beyond time
Beneath rhyme

Each seeming crime
Was already forgiven since all times when
Life began
When it ends
Time in circles
We can bend our journeys
So that healing the omnipresent Now
Disentangles all pasts somehow <3

So I do.
And I am.
Living each moment as I began.
With Hope. Joy and Love.

Grateful and Connected.
Below and Above.

All circles of Unity
Surrounded by Community

Once we all dare to fly free
So many arms to catch us in fleeting moments of disbelief.

Hearts held sacred.
Hands held dear.

I choose Love, now and always
Over the illusion of Fear.

Eleven Blossoms Strong ("For LOVE")

A symbol. A moment. An ancient heart-song.
Delicate perfection, eleven blossoms strong.
Was the beauty always present within?
Since forever and all along?

Iridescent fabric, weaved by the Divine
Alien faces opening slowly to a strange and unknown world
Bizarre and awkward, such dear tiny beings peering outwards with wonder
Encircled by the glorious protection of their triumphant angel wings

Open your heart! Find the courage to sing!
To bring the light of love
Even amidst the painful sting
Of all we are learning while we journey on this constantly shifting, ever-turning
Mother Earth.

...And nobody said it would be easy...

Still. The Beauty of living is never hidden from view
She always resides in us, around us
Ever-present, She surrounds us.

The Muse. The Source.
The undeniable force that ebbs and flows.
Beginning in sweet, deep slumber
The once dormant explodes!
Into life. And love. She grows and grows.
(Then dies to begin again, so best not wake too slow)

Softly tempting, She reminds us...
To peer out. Remove the veil.
Dare to See and be Seen.
To connect in heart-centered intimacy,
Is to awaken from the dream.

A dream of separation. A dream of alone.
There really is nothing wrong with You.
You have no sins to atone...

For...For? What are we for?

I already know. I was told a few years ago
By the angel I birthed, His wisdom aglow:

"You are for what everyone is for, mama.
For LOVE."