art | faith | healing | mystery | photography | self-excavation
Metamorphosis
Integrating
the fragments
of my inner being
embracing wholeness
seeking
truth
Similar Posts
healing | love | poetry | self-excavation
the turning of the wheel [or "In brightest day, in blackest night"]
(it began and ended with super heroes) sweetness of night cold and clear the lights of the city and the telling of stories massaging out the knots mutuality (the light is nearly at its climax now) rain-soaked honeysuckle blossoms on bare skin in the morning veneration and passion (and the burgeoning fear) “In brightest day,…
finding my voice
Over the past several years, I’ve been mindfully working on authenticity, issues with bullies, shadows of pain from the past and speaking uncomfortable truths. A lifetime of people pleasing and fear took a long time to rework. I feel like I have finally found my voice, like I can speak my truth and feel completely…
there is this moment
It is such a misguided notion to believe there is any other place to be but this one– the sweet smell of rain (the droplets falling on the very paper on which I was writing this), surrounded by poetry. A church bell chimes nearby and machines whirrrrrr all around me. The cacophony of seagulls crying…
healing | love | poetry | self-excavation
the turning of the wheel [or "In brightest day, in blackest night"]
(it began and ended with super heroes) sweetness of night cold and clear the lights of the city and the telling of stories massaging out the knots mutuality (the light is nearly at its climax now) rain-soaked honeysuckle blossoms on bare skin in the morning veneration and passion (and the burgeoning fear) “In brightest day,…
finding my voice
Over the past several years, I’ve been mindfully working on authenticity, issues with bullies, shadows of pain from the past and speaking uncomfortable truths. A lifetime of people pleasing and fear took a long time to rework. I feel like I have finally found my voice, like I can speak my truth and feel completely…
there is this moment
It is such a misguided notion to believe there is any other place to be but this one– the sweet smell of rain (the droplets falling on the very paper on which I was writing this), surrounded by poetry. A church bell chimes nearby and machines whirrrrrr all around me. The cacophony of seagulls crying…
healing | love | poetry | self-excavation
the turning of the wheel [or "In brightest day, in blackest night"]
(it began and ended with super heroes) sweetness of night cold and clear the lights of the city and the telling of stories massaging out the knots mutuality (the light is nearly at its climax now) rain-soaked honeysuckle blossoms on bare skin in the morning veneration and passion (and the burgeoning fear) “In brightest day,…
finding my voice
Over the past several years, I’ve been mindfully working on authenticity, issues with bullies, shadows of pain from the past and speaking uncomfortable truths. A lifetime of people pleasing and fear took a long time to rework. I feel like I have finally found my voice, like I can speak my truth and feel completely…
there is this moment
It is such a misguided notion to believe there is any other place to be but this one– the sweet smell of rain (the droplets falling on the very paper on which I was writing this), surrounded by poetry. A church bell chimes nearby and machines whirrrrrr all around me. The cacophony of seagulls crying…