divine | grace | inspiration | love | mystery | photography | poetry | the delicious now
a haiku for David
Shiva and Shakti
lime whiskey laced with laughter
sing transformation
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- healing | photography | poetry | quotes | self-excavation | the delicious now | truth
she
“Don’t pack whatever is easiest or most available into the emptiness. Hold out for the right medicine. You will recognize it because it makes your life stronger rather than weaker.” ~Clarissa Pinkola Estes she empty and ever emptier as winter closes in around her waits beneath the cold, icy mantle for the truth her beauty…
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every step an act of faith
“You cannot travel the path until you have become the path itself” ~Buddha each step i am destined to take illuminates itself. as i travel in the dark, unseen hands keep me from taking a wrong turn. every breath every step every moment is an act of faith and sublime s u r r e…
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Vowels I Have Known
O, an obsidian eye peering into the depths of my infinity The pink of U the aroused blush on my tongue— moist and turgid I, a bridge into places— blue and willowy surrendering to an unknown sky Red A, a pyramid of delight— you are reckless, bloody and without fear E, you come to me,…
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- divine | faith | grace | healing | photography | quotes | self-excavation | truth
temperance [a follow up to zaftig women awaken]
Yesterday, I wrote a short story for fun based on some words my friends gave me. In response, I received this email from an acquaintance: There have been a very few Matriarchal societies and none that were much above Hunter/gather stage in development. This is not to say that Matriarchy stunts development at all but…
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bruises of different sorts
I do. I do bruise easily. I often like bruises in strategic places on my body but on my heart, not so much. The words that both scare the fuck out of me and that I most want to hear (with the right person) are: “When can I see you again?” I feel so vulnerable…
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linger here
Self-care has taught me to linger in the company of those who listen with the ear of their heart. There are those who listen with the ear of their broken heart. They hear pain and look for weakness, they look for holes to enter and often carry a cutting knife. They know nothing but suffering…
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