November 21, 2015

This is our healing

Let us surrender to love, my friend. 

Tell me, where is your wound? I feel the ache. We will both carry unease until we let the light in. You see, there is no separation between your cuts and my healing. 
No barrier between love and the void of it. 

Are we not all breathing the same air? 
Under the same sun? 
Cradled by the same moon? 

Narrow the distance so we can see we are not what we fear of each other. 

I surrender to love, my friend. 
I cannot see without your light. 
This is our healing. 
This is our reason for being. 

Don't you marvel how we all define joy because we share the same sensation?
Have we all not shed tears? Your tears are made of the same elements as mine. 
Does your smile not come without thought and is its shape not the same as the lift of my lips?

Down to the detail. Down to the nails, to the hair, to the teeth, and tongue that can taste the bitterness of what is not right. It can also taste the sweetness we all crave and enjoy. 
We are all in search of the same sweetness. 

We are the same, you and I. 
Tell me, where is your wound? I feel the ache. 
Let us surrender to love, my friend. 

When we stop scratching away at our own skin, we will realize that we cannot make an enemy out of a brother. We cannot blame fear on our sister. Anger and sadness is housed in our own skin. It is up to us to cleanse what we hold. We are the same. We are one organism. The disparity and separation we create is reflective of the disparity and separation within ourselves. The distance we observe in another is the exact bridge we need to build to extend our love.
Someday, you too will need a bridge to reach for you. 

We are the same. 

Rather than pushing away and creating boundaries, in times like these; at all times, we need each other most. To heal is to surrender to love. To thrive is to face the truth that there is no separation between us. Where is the wound, my friend? I too have felt it. I too have suffered. We need the other equally. It is no coincidence our bodies are symmetrical. It is no accident that we are mirrors images. We are no accident; structural and molecular walking miracles. 

We will always shed each others’ tears. We carry each others’ pains. We are freed by each others’ joys. We are one organism, finding peace within. 

We are the same, you and I. 
Tell me, where is your wound? I feel the ache. 
I surrender to love, my friend. 

unearth me

maybe that’s what has been stalling me
maybe i’ve been distracting; digging depths around me
finding roots that aren't mine
looking for answers in places; not of this time

maybe I’ve been wedging distance from the heart of it
wanting to fall in love with something outside of it
asking the world to unearth me
maybe i’ve been afraid of falling
in love with me

nothing would ever be the same
this gated heat; a breath away from flame
I would burn flying wildfire
done with silencing the breath beneath the shame
oh, my wild heart unleashed under love’s powerful spell

i’ve been wishing to fall in love
to burst open
wanting love to unearth me
maybe i’ve been afraid of falling
in love with me

witness the unbound roots
the cracking open of ground
taking the first sip of sky
passion beyond reasoning ideas beyond the shackles of design
will beyond anyone’s need to confine

don’t fear your own light
shadows larger than you
heart mightier than the mind

maybe that’s what has stalled these yearning dreams
maybe that’s what has frozen me to follow through
wanting love to unearth me
maybe i’ve been afraid of falling  in love who I know to be

i would fly so fast and far
there would be no turning back
if i lived for the spirit inside,
i would be a recluse for change - i would take no direction and live outside this cage
i would have unearthed what took years to dim
i would fall in love with me.
extend my hand and it would be the beginning of everything.

November 11, 2015

Remind me

Remind me dear spirit. Remind me when the wind comes again and I mistake the bending at my roots with weakness. Remind me that this sway and fluid body is not survival or proof that I can't keep it all in order. Remind me that it's not my job. Predictability is a staged and forced state, robbing our breath of its existence as our guide. 

Remind me gentle heart. Remind me that when I want to surrender all effort, it is not a sign of failure or a display of life's lack of love towards me. When my heart is weary, remind my heartbeat that it is merely time to rest. I am being reminded to fall into surrender and unclench the struggle. Oh gentle heart, remind me that opening is the only way to see and be seen; to love and be loved. It is the epicenter of our existence. 

Remind me of faith, graceful soul. This body hasn't carried you for very long. It forgets that the earth always cradles my body; securely firming up into me. Falling is merely an illusionary sensation. Remind me to allow myself to be held by our Mother Earth. She always has us. This body frets about the unknown. Remind me that you always know the way. Faith and trust are tickets to the next and it is up to me whether I choose to enjoy the ride or worry along the way. We end up at the same place regardless, through to the next reveal, that all is well. All is always well. Remind me, graceful soul, to embody that knowing. 

When I deny my flexibility and fight for a result, remind me that the pieces fall into place for my highest good. Remind my ego that possession is nothing but a mirage of safety. Remind me, my uninhibited spirit, that it is up to me how high I am willing to fly. How grand I am willing to feel joy in any circumstance. How much light I exude. How willingly I to trust that I am, enough. 

In the despair of the discomfort, remind me that my body responds to my heart. Allow my heart to lead it through always. The body responds to the heart as if it had never been held down; as if it wasn't aware that it's wings were invisible. Like a lover's gaze in awe of your magic, the body can save the world with the heart behind it. 

Remind me my compassionate soul, that my boiled anger is always welcome. That these fits of tears and resistance for what is, only bring me closer to peace. Remind me that my shouting to the sky in pain is why I am here. It is a conversation with God and a prayer to myself that needs to happen so that I may catch my breath, wipe my tears, and see the parted storms reveal the forgotten sky. Remind me however you can, that this life isn't meant to mirror anything else I've ever witnessed. There is no counterpart twin to this soul's path. And so, in my loneliness, remind me that I, in fact, am exactly where I need to be. I am accompanied by everything that came before me and everything standing by my side, so that I may be me, here. 

In this hopeful breath, remind me always dear light in my belly, of possibility. When my fingers are numb and my sight blurry, remind me that time will come again when excitement will fill my lungs. Remind me that waves are meant to pull me back as needed for the next surge ahead and that you know exactly how much preparation I need to welcome that in. Remind me that my longings are heard and my spine caressed as my head bows down in doubt. Remind me at my root of knowing, that I have got this. I can do this and waiting for the tide of energy to come in will get me there. Oh fire at my core, remind me when I forget, how potent my drive is and how accompanied it has always been. Remind me it is all in my favor. Remind me I can and I will. 

Gracious light, remind me of who I am when I am not brave enough to look into the mirror. Lift me up and hold me. Infuse love into my veins and cradle my overworked spirit. Breathe your sun into my chest, so that I radiate the warm glow that brought me here in the first place. 

Remind me. 

September 28, 2015

A Love Letter

Youth is beautiful. There is no denying what the eye can see. A consensus effortlessly presented, allured, and enjoyed. Youth carries that. A beautiful innocence and existence of living on the surety of inexperience. It is a state of being without truly knowing its juxtaposition. Trust without questioning its value. 

Youth comes with a faith that exists without resistance or leverage that develops from being tested. There’s a freedom that just is, at no cost or effort. The road intended for youth is untouched, clean and new. There is tremendous beauty in youth. Whether observed by those who have expended it or those able to observe while still breathing its sweet age. Physical beauty. A young face and body. A young heart. An unobstructed energy. It is indeed beautiful. 

There is also the kind of beauty that unfolds with age and experience. It is depth found after digging in muddy trenches with tested trust and freedom. This Beauty is found in trembling vulnerability and earned belief. The surface wrinkles and hair turns grey, as the spirit sparks and is reintroduced to itself. We have seen first-hand what was once given to us. We have repeatedly fallen until we learned and the skin we carry tells our stories. 

Beauty that comes with age is in the bones and roots unseen to the naked eye. It is a felt beauty. Beauty of the spirit. Beauty grown by humility and experience. Beauty that has birthed our souls and weathered our physical exteriors. This beauty shines from the inside. It is manifested through our resilience. 

It is a peace in the discomfort. This kind of beauty fuels a magnetism from your core, felt only by others who recognize the will. It is what propels life forward in evolution. Beauty unfolded through age is the heartbeat of all possibility. It is where change is fueled. It is the opportunity that perseverance creates, the surrender that strife for change offers, and the blossoming of authenticity. 

It is you, unfolding. Opening. 

September 14, 2015

Never Alone

You see it? It's there. 

A Universe inside of you. 

A sustainable and boundless supply of stars and constellations. 

I see it. 

Go ahead. 

Take a deep look. 

Unveil it. 

Unleash your full expression. 

Fully equipped. Fully supported. More than enough. 

There is no separation between you and the world outside of you. 

Never alone. 

Always with purpose for being. 

September 3, 2015


What are you running from that pushes you to run towards, my darling? 

Can you stand still and be at peace with what is? 

The bad won't hurt you and the good won't leave you. 

You will see that in stillness. 

You will see that behind the seen. 

It is then when the world comes to you. 

Trust it will come to you. 

It will find you. 

You just have to let yourself be found. 

'The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away' - John Steinbeck 

Dear, Time.

Oh, Time. How we humans have tried to define you and control you. How we wrestle with your presence and our place in it. We carefully watch over you. We build everything in our lives around you. All of our efforts are bound by your existence and we measure ourselves through the appearance of staying ahead of you. We try and try to dominate you before you have a chance to dominate us. 

You slyly smile with a smirk, allowing us to pretend. You know it is our fear of you and our lack of control over you, that pushes us to grasp you so tightly.  

Time, you dress up so nicely as a metaphor. 

We cannot see you or touch you, and yet we get older still. Days pass. Nights come and go, as you remind us to live; to live as if your existence wasn't suppressive, but inspiring instead. And so we battle within to stay present and enjoy you without counting. As a wealthy person would lose his wealth by spending days counting it instead of producing more. 

How will we spend you, dear Time? 

Shall we hold your hand like a loyal companion or race you with a blindfold hoping to be a step ahead of what is? You are always alive, even when we aren't. We wake up one day and realize you have been busy. We wake up and see ourselves older and count our wealth in experiences and lessons. Our children are taking over where our memories had left off and our parents are far beyond our grasp of comfort; reminding us of your truth. 

Oh, Time. You clever and mystical companion. Observing as we sleep through our days. Patiently waiting so that we may discover for ourselves, that we only have so much left of you.

On that magical day, once we have taken enough advantage of you, you shake us awake into this art of truly living. You help us to crack open into the acceptance of what once was; the surrender of what is, and into the courageous vulnerability of opening to the unknown ahead. 

Oh dear, Time. How shall we celebrate you?


If you ever feel like you're going in circles and not 'moving' forward; exerting effort with little to show for it; stop where you are and remember. 

We are here to reveal the stars that reside in each others' worlds. 

Your acts ripple through countless lives. 

Your breath alone breathes life into our lungs. 

You have impacted many without knowing it. 

You have been seen and loved, even if the words haven't graced your ears. 

Trust that. Feel that. 

This truth does not exist in proof or in measurable results. It can't. You see, it would be physically impossible to measure the magnitude of your life on this earth. There is no scale, no measurement, no accounting in tangible format for visible proof. It is in the fibers of all that pulsates and breathes. So you must believe in the felt, in the heart, in the magic, in the silence, and in the glow that swells from the depths of you. 

I have learned to respond rather than to react. I have gained a desire to be of service rather than a need to win a race. I intend to make choices based on love rather than fear. The culmination of experiences and events in my life have led me here. The greatest of all may be that I have a clear need to create the life I love. As simple and as majestic as that. 

And maybe that's enough to remind me how far I have come. 

So have you. 

And so it is. 

To my love

Feel everything. Every-Thing. In darkness, hopelessness, and storms, always trust in your deepest of hearts that you know the sun is there. Be open to life. Pave the way now so that throughout it, you see and feel every sunrise, every sunset and every moment in between. It is all a gift. Allow your soul to have a direct connection to this life. There is no use in hiding your beautiful light. Let it shine without asking for permission or apology. 

May your purpose and passions be yours and yours alone. Pleasing others for that sake alone will only diminish your ability to truly touch souls. Question the should's, when they arise. Avoid pleasing for that sake alone, altogether. Me included. Especially for me. Pleasing your own heart is and always will be, enough. It is everything. Please remember that sacred truth and BE it, my love. 

You are always enough. 

May you recognize the sun always at your face.  May you trust that grace is always watching over you; guiding you through lessons to help you reach higher. Lessons to heal your heart and allow your soul to sing. May gratitude leave your lips as constantly and easily as breath. They are one in the same. Recognize this life is a gift and everything in your path is there for a reason, my love. 

You will always have a family. We will be your net to catch you. We will be ears to listen to every unspoken and rumbled word. We are eyes to watch in awe as you shine. We love you more than you could imagine. There will be times when you won't be able to. Our love is here all the same. 

Thank you for choosing us. Thank you for gracing us with your heart and spirit. We are better because of you and will always strive to evolve higher; to show you examples of the boundless possibilities, and expansive love that is available to you in this lifetime. May you live your most beautiful life, my darling. 

August 31, 2015

You are surely imperfect

You are surely imperfect. 

You should know that. 

A living puzzle.
Scraps bound together by the stickiness of frustration, the dampness of fear, the magnetic excitement of wonder, hope, love, and the soft landing into surrender. Each piece as colorful, unique and unexpectedly precise as the next. We take it all apart. Examine. Question. Force pieces that don't fit. And once we have had enough and feel ready, we observe. We step away and look at ourselves from a distance, to see the art we've made with what we were handed. 

As much as we try to figure ourselves out, we secretly know it's an endless pursuit. The questions multiply with each potential response. We want more and more, knowing there is nothing to grasp; nothing to attain. A bland uneasiness we feel as we search for something we can't define. What a laborious and fruitless treadmill run. We confine ourselves to this itchy turtleneck thinking it will make us better. 

You are surely imperfect.

 It was written in the stars long before you ever began thinking that you-being-you, wasn't enough. I wonder what made us create that thought in the first place. Tell that moment to go to fuck itself; that first moment that led to so many myths of inadequacy. So many efforts to mask yourself. 

Don't just give it a rest. Give it up all together. Let yourself be. 

You weren't born perfect. You didnt lose the ability to become perfect. You never had it. This striving you do. This tiresome pushing and collecting of the not enough's. All in an effort to reach something that will never be because it isn't you. This roller coaster of 'achievements' for someone else's game.  

Whatever you are searching for or hiding from, already lives within you.

You are surely imperfect. Each and every impeccable imperfection was designed for you. Lean into that. Listen to that. Make art with that. Thank this mosaic of you. Nothing more is needed. No outside ingredients to add. It will all unfold, one messy and masterful piece at a time. There are no mistakes. There is no right or wrong answer. 

You are the answer. 

You, my sweet, are surely and wonder-fully, perfectly designed. 

Heart of the matter

I can't remember what life was like before my boy. 

And that's just the thing. We hold on and resist change. We are, rationally so, scared to move forward because this is not a matter of the mind. 

Maybe to say, you can't remember what life was like before, is evidence enough that your heart is the one that needs you to leap; so that soon, you can wake up on the other side, and with a sigh of lightness say, I can't remember what life was like before you. 

Wisdom begins in wonder

Take a step back.  Find some space from the work. Release the effort. Look how far you have come, you beautiful human. 

You have been digging and walking; recalibrating and churning. All of the while, unsure of where this is all going and the worth of results unseen. 

Your knowledge has circled this Earth and reached more lives than you will ever truly know. 

You joy and dedication has inspired and rooted seeds for generations to come. 

Yes, you. 

You think that your life is small? That you may not have much to show for the leaps you take in those shoes? That your courageous heart isn't seen or felt?

What's left after the work and the notion of a consequence is released? 

Give thanks. Often. Redesign. Break patterns. 

Can you redefine so that there is no recognition? So that there are no labels or lines drawn? Instead of working harder, can you release and find the courage to be light? Can you let go of the effort and striving to get somewhere? 

Standing where you are right now, my darling, you have touched so many. 

We carry dreams in our pockets

We carry dreams in our pockets. Gathering and secretly storing them. That alone gets us through most days. We wait until the sun fades. Feeling safe and spared from another day of revealing what we aren't prepared to see in ourselves. 

We then empty our pockets and throw our secret visions into the night sky; watching our hearts burst open - silently, pleading the stars for answers. Praying for those hand-picked silent dreams to transform us.                                                 

It was the last time. I made the choice. I cleared away what has held me back. It took years to figure it out and a day to decide. I sobbed in gratitude. There's always a way. You can start again anytime. Just as silently as those gathered dreams and as intentionally as the decision to manifest them into life. 

It has to start with the courage to love. Love yourself enough to thank your present. Love what you do and your style of doing it. Love the paths crossed. Love every lesson. It is all there for YOU. Choose based on love rather than the fear of not getting it. 

Do yourself a favor. Reach into your pocket and pull out every one of those dreams. Those dreams you keep to yourself and repeat like a mantra in your heart. The ones that make you excited every time. The ones that you can't shake. Lay them out, one by one. Give them life. Talk about them. Tell someone. Don't wait any longer. Take a step forward. Inspiration is useless without a verb behind it. It is all on its way, waiting for you to bring it into your life. 


Freedom, you give it to yourself 

Compassion, you give it to yourself 

Forgiveness, you give it to yourself 

Dreams, you give them to yourself  

Acknowledgment, you give it to yourself 

You give it to yourself 

Suffering, you free yourself 

Joy, you fill yourself 

Abundance, you allow it to enter 

Love, you crack yourself exposed (or it cracks you) to feel its magnetism

You give it all to yourself 

Tenderness and Self-Acceptance, you give it to yourself

Peace, you give it to yourself 

Nurture, you give it to yourself 

Softness and Grace, you give it to yourself 

You, sweet soul, happen to yourself

Waiting in anticipation for resolve will only block your light. Remove exterior dependencies to fill yourself. Remove your own armor. Allow yourself to be seen. Grant yourself permission to stand as you are, then, will you receive the sweetness of this humanness. 

Only you can give it to yourself. 


I'm going to piss you off. 

I'm going to annoy you. 

It's guaranteed you will want to run away from me. 

Trust that your heart is in safekeeping, no matter the weather. 

My love is freely yours. 

~ Self 

I see him

He has a heart of gold. Expansive like the horizon and yet he keeps it to himself. He denies it. All of the tenderest ones do. The ones with the best memories and purest souls. He guards it with all of his might and covers as a sustainable machine who doesn't need love. Promising and shouting to never open his beating center again. Vowing to never let another in. Most crucially, to never need it. He swears to the heavens he is better without. In all of these promises of not feeling a damn thing, I hear his heart cry out. I feel the pain of his self-imposed solitude. Like unseen thunder, the ground beneath me trembles from his pleading heart. 

I see him. 

I can't love him enough to melt his walls. Only he can do that for himself. My words won't wake him or instill trust. My actions won't soften his grip. He can't see me and see love. He needs to find it for himself. 

Go. Go be cracked open. Allow yourself to melt like a puddle in love's warmth and tenderness. The pain you are trying to avoid is greatest in the starvation of love. And you have so much to give. 

To love you is to be a fool knowing it will go unseen and un-felt. My wasted heart is beating into an abyss. I have no control over it. She knows what she feels. She sees you. The harder you push the clearer you become. Your pain glows through your translucent walls.  Your fear is real and she begs you to see; to see for yourself that it isn't so. That this love won't hurt. And you run faster and further away. 

So I send you this prayer to satisfy my heart so that I can let you go. I could use some nourishment in return. I could use someone to hold me and support me. Hopefully he will see me as clearly as you saw me and he'll be able to stay. He'll be able to love beyond his walls.

I hope you get what you need

I hope I do too 


Sometimes I can't tell if God is protecting me from something, 

or if I'm protecting myself from God. 

August 24, 2015

Don't You See?

Don't you see? 

Your breath is enough to give my wings flight. 
Your song gives my tired heart the rhythm it needed to awaken. 
Your courage stokes this fire that has been kindling in my belly. 
Your smile warms my bones like a summer day. 
Your release of what does not serve you allows my exhale to surrender. 

Your trust ignites the stars above so I can have evidence enough of my magic. 
Your song lifts me forward in grace. 
Your creation reminds me of the boundless possibilities I can manifest. 

This is our exchange. Our inhales and exhales take turns on this mysterious and wondrous journey.  

And so we remind one another of what it is to truly live. Your love brings color to the dreams I want to unleash. 

I am the ocean and you the sky. 
The infinite horizon between us blurs. 
Most humans can't distinguish where we separate. 

We don't darling. 
We are one in the same. 
An interdependent being of experiences, inspirations and lessons. 

You see it now? 

I knew you would. 

I Am

I breathe deeply. Inhaling and exhaling, breathing life into the depths of me because I have had the wind knocked out of me. I lived once with shallow breaths until I knew enough how deeply I truly wanted to breathe. So I do. And so I am. 

I sing because it feels as though I could fly; away from the cage in which I sometimes paint myself. Song is freedom and connection to the truest and oldest part of my soul. It is how I come alive. I sing. I am. 

I run because I was told to stand still and walk in straight lines for the majority of my life. I continued out of not knowing there was another way; until I figured it out when it became uncomfortable enough. So I run to remind myself I can pave my own way; that I'm not tied to anything, anyone or to myself. I run even when I don't know where I'm going. I run. I am. 

I stare at the sky in awe. Day or night. I stare. I stretch out my arms and feel how boundless I am. I stare in gratitude for the world around me and the gift it is to be alive. I stare because It is a reminder of how small I sometimes shrink into made up stories. I stretch and stare at the infinite horizons and skies to show that there really are no limits. I am. 

I write words because it is the spine of who I am. Writing is a manifestation of my dialogue with this universe. It is how I feel through my humanness and how I listen to the Divine. Words come through me and reveal my soul's whispers and screams. Words breathe life into my observations. It is how I breathe, smile, cry, study, connect and feel life. They are my reminder, my humility, my possibility, my empowerment, relief and hope. Words are my mirror; my greatest teacher. I write. I am. 

I practice yoga. It is my sanctuary. Yoga is how I use my body to explore within. It is my practice for evolution, love, forgiveness, gratitude, acceptance, surrender, and to break through barriers. I practice yoga to connect with my spirit, with others, with this body on this ground and to the God of my own unique understanding. It is how I observe my thoughts. How my body listens to my head. And how my head bows to my heart. Yoga is strengthening the foundation in preparation for flight. Root to rise. I practice. I am. 

I meditate to listen. To return. To begin again and again. To allow my spirit the breathing room it deserves. I meditate to be. To open myself to a connection grander than myself. I meditate to allow myself the space and silence to be. Without judgement or thought. In silence, I am. 

I am. 

A Mother's Love

I hope he lives without mental barriers. 

I wish him to know only the joy in him saying 'yes!'  

I do everything I can to instill and encourage a free heart and uninhibited spirit. 

That his happiness has no limits and his love, no walls. 

I hope he trusts that life is as open and available to him as he is to it. 

I hope he feels the magic he exudes is reflected back to him. 

There is no distinction between us

We have taken many trips together around the sun, you and I. 

The moon has blanketed our dreams with its stars, as we surrender into blissful sleep every night. 

The fire of the day has kindled our possibilities until they implode and the Universe inside of us is unleashed. 

Infinite stars line our belly. 

The moon in our throats and the sun between our eyes. 

We are one. 

There is no distinction between us. 

March 30, 2015

The Body Remembers

I need someone who knows how to love me. I've been beaten up. I've healed. The body also remembers. I have a tough exterior. Muscle enough to protect me. A sharp mind and an open intuition. A healthy heart that has found joy in living alone. It also sings at night with an ache to be nestled in safe keeping.

The body remembers.

 I need someone that knows how to love me. Reassurance that silence isn't abandonment. Trust that feelings will stay. Tenderness that listening is truly caring and a pleasant surprise in your persistent curiosity for my insides. Remind me that a look can gaze down into the depths of me. Show me that you can smell me from a mile away.  Shock me with your gentleness. Don't run; no matter how annoying or hard it gets - show me it's a pleasure still. Give Affection. Hold me. Kiss me. Show me. See me. Understand me even when you don't fully.

The body remembers. It remembers newlywed silent distance and an untouched pregnant belly and finally, disinterest. It remembers knife-sharp lonely silence. The body remembers the void, defined as abandonment and a lesson not yet learned, that abandonment is another's inability to love as you need. The body remembers a stagnant heart, starved so much it bled looking for another life source to sustain it. It remembers not knowing how to find it within; or that it could. It remembers suddenly and slowly being left and having to declare that truth in order to stop hemorrhaging. Those scars don't fade easily. The wound eventually healed and the heart is thriving. The memories come back sometimes.

 I haven't ridden my bike since.

Teach me to trust I can. Show me. Please extend your heart because I'm doing my best. Show me. Ask me. Step out on a limb and reach for me. I'm putting myself out there more than you might think. My frightened heart is willing. Please meet me halfway and take my hand. Thank me for trying. Thank me for asking. For seeing something in you and taking a step. You may not realize this is the biggest, bravest and boldest step I have ever taken since I died and came alive again.

Help me to claim trust in this new life. It's my first time at love with this wise, fresh, open heart. Be gentle. Skip the appearances and games. I want to be amongst real love; at least the exploration of it. To show it and to receive it. Meet me halfway. I'm terrified. We all are.
I will hold your heart. Please hold mine.

The body remembers.

I want new memories. With you.

January 25, 2015

Be Loved

Oh my darling, live life as only you can. Dive in and reach into your chest for that bright and beautiful heart of yours. Let it be your guide, your muse, your music; setting the rhythm for each sacred and perfectly placed step you take. As you dance in this curious space outside of you, smile in all of your glory knowing that the neurosis and wisdom come from the same place.

Fear is magnified in its knowing you will soon override it's existence with a wondrous 'yes'. So go on, my darling. Live as only you can. There are no molds or boundaries. You are far too vast of a light to be constricted by such mirages.  Freedom is inside you, roaming through your veins as the infinite figure circulates your desires; energizing you towards the unexplored.

Love will sustain you, guide you and lift you, to evolve into remembrance of the soul that carries you.

So no holding back. Go make those 'mistakes', if that's what holds you back. Make them loud and clear until they begin to blend with your magic. Make every step with intention. Say it loudly and purposefully. We need to hear you.  We need all of you. It is why you are here. To be loved.

 Every bit of you. We need to love you.

So you see, my darling. Live life as only you can. It is how we are all fed and loved; by your true essence. It is the reason why you are here. Let us love you.

January 6, 2015

If we look back...

May we thank our moments of blindness, for we appreciate how immaculate our other senses become in our being.

May we thank the night, for our light, no matter how doubtful and void of it we may feel, radiates ever so evidently in its midst. The darker it gets, the more impossible it becomes to question its existence and beauty.

And our fears and judgements.; thank them, too because without them, our challenges may never prove to us our boundless potential for greatness. Under seemingly impossible circumstances, thank each obstacle which gifted us in proving that we indeed are enough.  Our light is all we ever need to rise above and fear is nothing but an illusionary noise, right before we say 'Yes'.

January 4, 2015

I would pull the sky apart to find you.

I am not a patient woman.

I am also stubborn.

I knowingly live as if I had control of design or chance.

As if I had control over the many times our souls have sparked in recognition.