Meditation seeks what is Already there. The paled blue and Pops of red; Remaining still beneath The breath. Even though The colors have Faded, still We see what Lovingly remains. A delicate imprint, Reaching forward And through. Beyond, what mind Permits as ‘truth’. And, until We commit to The boundlessness Of our own Self view.…

Trees always grow toward the sun, As if in reverent prayer. As a child, I stood Always in awe, looking up – Wondering, what stood As the basis of their resolve. Reaching beyond and through What we simple humans Term as ‘distraction’, The elder oak views as ‘play’. Our perception draws the Voice of context…

Today, we are reminded of the precious and permanence of This magnificent life. and all of the gratitude that is expressed through the manifestation of our own self-awareness – what we believe what we think becoming the cornerstone of our faith and legacy. We are born, we die..but somewhere in the midst a true miracle…

Be still, my friends. Pay attention to the soft flow of breath as it shares it’s essence with this world – and becoming, in time, so much more. ‘Beyond self’ is where our transformation begins, it’s roots unearthing the catalyst of all pain – fixed within the depths of a seemingly unforgiving earth. And yet,…

At some point in our lives we must submit to our transition; shifting our long-worn central point of focus from awareness to inclusion. And, within which, our bias subsides offering acceptance in the place of fear, and enough love to fill any hurt. In time we begin to understand the fluidity of our ‘boundaries’. What…

The poet Rumi contended that sorrow prepares us for joy; that it violently sweeps all clutterings of ‘home’, making space for new blessings to enter. And, ‘shaking the yellowed leaves from the bough of our hearts’, we find our renewal – our senses shifting from the sharp pit of reaction, into a newfound acceptance. It…

I’ve been roaming around for the last week and a half, looking for an old soul who approached me at an intersection as he held a cardboard sign in his hand. His face was weathered and wind burned, though not yet vacant in expression. though he had lost everything,┬áthere was something still there. Perhaps in…

There are moments in our lives when we begin to understand. We see ourselves through the softened pale light, as the shadow leaps – empowered only through the wonderment of that next, untraveled step. Over and over and once more again, until we are – at last, revealed. Between the pines – a “doorway to…

Cicada shell: little did I know it was my life. — Shuho, d. 1767 When I was a little girl, the cicadas emerged from the ground. Thousands upon thousands of these winged insects took to the trees, ascending to the highest limb, hoping to gain new perspective. I was fascinated by the synergy within their…

When the moon is full I see myself reflected within the dark pools of muddied water; even here, beneath my feet there is a sweet release. Her soft glow beckons me forward through the unforgiving brush. I stand alone though never lonely. At last I breathe, this exquisite air filling my lungs with the unrelenting…