“Look at the beautiful, green buds!” she exclaimed.
“I worry for them. It’s only February,” he replied.
Now, it’s nearly April and the leaves are unfurling and stretching to the sun.
He’s not here to see that and yet it’s happening all the same.
Faith trumps worry.
A voice keeps whispering, “Let the miracle happen.” So I am. And it is. I’m starting to believe in myself again. And the hurt has transformed into acceptance and wisdom. I see the road ahead of me again. And I see the blank canvas as exciting instead of overwhelming. The voices that have told me…
they chased after elusive rainbows thinking the colors– (the shimmering wonder!) were outside of them. one day, they woke up and realized they were light itself and the game changed. they did a spiral dance together luminous brilliance (refracted wonderment!) in an infinite sea of grace
There’s so much I want to say. So much I could say about friendship, and belonging, and how care (or the absence of it) feels deep in the center of my being. About feeling dehumanized so often. Objectified. Plunked into the fantasies and projections of men who said they loved me but didn’t show me…
“Your response is making me cry.” He said, “No use in crying over…
One Song by Rumi Every war and every conflict between human beings has happened because of some disagreement about names. It is such an unnecessary foolishness, because just beyond the arguing there is a long table of companionship set and waiting for us to sit down. What is praised is one, so the praise is…
Shiva and Shakti lime whiskey laced with laughter sing transformation