Solace of the Kindred

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Move your body, your being, towards what you love…
what delights you, tickles, gladdens…
flow in the river of your Soul.

Permission to be alive can be overwhelming,
we get used to being asleep,
mistake trying for living.

Let others who have found themselves
support you on your journey,
but don’t mistake their river for
your own sweet water.

Enjoy the solace of the kindred,
but beware confusing joyful familiarity
with the discovery of your own Soul.

Wander Within

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Live in the Soul’s soft longing,
where all things beautiful and true
(especially the ugly and the false)
wait to be transformed.

Move towards what is beautiful to you —
a smile, a flower, a favorite corner
where you can see the river.
Move into what moves you and
uncover the mysteries of your life.

From these journeys come the treasures
of the Soul, a direct response to
the world and its sorrow, emerging
from within to become medicine —
first for you, and then for all of us.

Wander within, slow down and find
the pace of deep knowing.
Just when it seems terrible, fraught,
and impossible, that’s when to keep going,
that’s when to push against the walls,
come into the light, be born into
the dance of your life.

Don't Get Distracted

Don’t get distracted from your Soul’s fulfillment,
looking for that pat on the head.

Yearning to belong in a society that has forgotten
the meaning of the word, we sell our Souls —
or at least try — just to receive the possibility of
”I like you.”

How did our expectations get so low?
Or maybe they are too high, up in our
heads where they don’t belong.

We ignore our body’s yearning for the
sweetness of skin, the warmth of one we love
held close, not out of desire,
but from the pure need and enjoyment of belonging.

We all want to curl up in our pack, rest
in friendly arms, easy in their love.
This is everything.

The work is simple: What gets in the way?


beloved communion

painting by Iceland’s  Eggert Pétursson

painting by Iceland’s Eggert Pétursson

Beauty is the way

The way is fraught,
but beauty is the way.

We are like the clouds I see,
morning sun coming through

We are also the mountains
strong and ancient,
a becoming that is also a letting go.

We are sky, too — vast, infinite,
so much to explore and know.

Cloud and mountain differentiate
light pouring through the —
what are they called? — ridges?
I want to say crevasse.

How can we give up hope in the face
of so much beauty?
Our mother is powerful and we have
rebelled like misunderstood teenagers,
full of desire and truth and longing.

Still, in this world, this morning exists.
Still now, here in this troubled time,
my eyes are squinting as morning sunlight
pours over a mountainside.

When I am awake in this way, I think:
what if everyone could feel like I do now,
trusting the day to open,
taking the sacred offering.

The Earth speaks a complex and terrible
language, vast in its implication

Understanding begins in the gentling of ourselves,
in soft whispers felt in the
vast intimacies of our own hearts.

Truth felt and then a breath,
big and full and sighing,
the body’s grateful participation
in a beloved communion.