Our Light

I feel a pull (I believe it's within you too) to rediscover and reawaken the universe within me. To feel it energetically. To feel connected. To feel free.

I am inviting creativity to enter and envelop me. Creativity to listen closely to my angels as they nudge and whisper and holler from their homes in the cosmos. Creativity to sit in the slivers of silence that find me, and breathe deeply. Creativity to nurture and nourish the universes within my children, husband, family, and friends. Creativity to sing the songs that slip through me, yearning to be heard. Creativity to dance when my body is stiff with the stuff of sadness. Creativity to write with my honest, holy heart. Creativity to ease into all uncertainty.

I believe the universe is calling us all to stop this nonsense. To flee the fog. To receive peace.

The child under the rubble is a universe. The child pursuing refuge is a universe. The child discharging the missile is a universe. The child in political royalty is a universe.

Hurting does not heal the hurting.

Within every one of us is a universe, one of light and dark. The darkness is deep and dense and can entice. But life does not thrive in the darkness. Darkness shrivels and shrinks us. Darkness is where we sleep. Life needs light. Life needs our suns. Life needs us to shine.

Recently, someone reminded me of the universe within me. He said I am my most authentic self because I seek evolution. This journey, this life, this being, is true and whole already, at this blessed moment.

We must drag ourselves from the dense. deep, and dark and seek the light. This is where energy is. This is where vibrancy is. This is where life is.

I am my evolution. My evolution is me. And evolution extends to everything. You. Me. The trees. The seas. The soils. The animals. The cultures. Everything (and I mean, EVERYTHING) is temporary, fleeting, seeking life in the light.

This isn't to say I don't make messy mistakes all over the place. The mission is acceptance and gratitude. Gratitude for life. Gratitude for the light and the books and the conversations and the international connections we can create and cultivate with this virtual multiverse, The Internet. Gratitude for space to rest. Gratitude for hope, however thin it is. Gratitude for seeking and the purpose of it. Gratitude for the peace that is, and gratitude for the peace that will come and lean itself and lift itself into the light - into all of our light. 

Moon

Barefoot on the damp deck, I look up to the moon. 

She is out, out in the open night - whole, bright, and naked. 

I speak of my longing to live in my full joy, love, and power, to be like the moon, to be a being in my brilliance, out in the open - whole, bright, and naked. Naked as in pure. Naked as in authentic. Naked as in free.  

The wind blows then on my skin.

And it feels like a kiss. It feels like a yes.

These gorgeous souls ...

All seven are so unique and yet so full of empathy, sensitivity, and abundant authenticity.

 
Every child is a gift.

Every child is here to remind us to look within, to find one's own uniqueness, empathy, sensitivity, and abundant authenticity, one's light, one's gorgeous soul.

Once a year, these beautiful, wild beings, these young cousins, become siblings for a weekend.
It is beautiful. And it is wild!

Howling, hollering, singing, screaming, and whispering. Splashing and swimming. Dancing, running, and (as pictured) jumping! Snuggles and secrets and so many stories.

We are family.

We were born for and to one another.

Every one of us is a gift.

I hope you feel space to lounge and laugh and listen and LOVE your family this summer.

Yes, Go!

Walk into the ocean. Drop into the pond. Skip through the stream. Allow your pores to open in the wet cold. Bound from book to book to book! Move from the trail to the wildland and back to the trail again. Feel the wind on your skin. Listen to the rhythm of your blood drum. Stomp through the neighborhood in a downpour. Wear boots and bathing suits and a variety of hats. Write the letter. Drink the water. Try the tea. Climb the tree. Take a walk at dusk. And dance until you feel free. (Electronic. Rap. Rock. Pop. Classical. Clapping, stomping folk. Whatever music lures your limbs into motion...turn it on and turn it up!) And sing! Yes, goodness, sing. Whenever a song reaches out of your belly and touches your tender tongue, let that bird out and SING!

My Offering

Let's stop fighting in the dark. 

Rather, let's gather and awake in the vibrancy of light and color. That's where the abundance is. And where there's abundance there is joy. And where there is joy there is a powerful vibration and motivation to create, serve, and soar.  

I have been leaping and dancing toward my spiritual expansion for several years. Time, experience, and the wise words and offerings of others have all worked together like a hungry wake of vultures, devouring the dead weight of my unconsciousness. My soul's mission is one of seeking. I seek illumination. I seek evolution. I seek consciousness. 

It is a calling. 

It is a calling for inner peace. 

Once there is inner peace, there will be earthly peace. 

I love this hurting world. I do feel the need to weep within and at its shadows. I do feel the need to heal it. I cannot heal it alone. I am only one. However, I can help. I can heal myself. I can heal my energetic being and my human body. I can seek illumination, evolution, and consciousness. I can become greater. I can live lighter and shine brighter. I can live and breathe my authenticity. I can do this. I can be this. I can be this tender, vulnerable, brave, and wise. 

I can be me.  

A Wise Friend

A wise friend is akin to a book of old wisdom.  A book of bone and soul and skin. A book that breathes and speaks and eats. A book with a song on a wet tongue. A book that walks with you up the hills, through the garden paths, across the grass, into the city, and to the top of the rugged country. A book that sits at the table, weaving with you tapestries of word histories. A book that gives and receives empathy, honesty, and energy. A book of authenticity.

We all need this attuned connecting, this co-creating that comes from existing within the exchange of such delicate witnessing. 

Yes, this love-giving living is vulnerable. It is a little scary. What if there is disagreement or accidental offense? What if there is embarrassment? Fear does this, doesn't it? It wants us all to stay home alone, hiding. There is vulnerability when one loves wholeheartedly. There is vulnerability when one lives with such bravery. 

I am on this enormous vibrant earth, in bone and soul and skin, to experience expansion. To go out and do and be. Yes, there is and will be suffering. And yes, perhaps too, a journey of beloved belonging, and perhaps too, an awakening! 

A wise friend is akin to a book of old wisdom. A book of beauty, spine, and being. A book of bounty! I want the shelves of my life to hold such generosity, to hold such love! For love is the center of us all, the center of it all, the engine of everything. 

I remember twenty. Do you?

I remember the pull of love. The almost obsession. The need of my wanting. The fear I had of anyone leaving. And all that spontaneous weeping! I feared time. I knew it could unravel unfavorably. We were young. This could end. But then it didn't. We followed and wondered and worried and wandered. Night after night, we slept beneath the same blanket. We once had a dog. We miss her still. We had many jobs. We had a baby and then four years later, we had another. And now there are children in a bedroom I once painted green, sleeping. Except when they are awake and playing, screaming, singing, running, or climbing like monkeys across our torn and worn furniture.  Now, I am forty and we live in a boat of a house on the edge of a hilly wooden bay and I can't help but think about our beginning. And about this boisterous moment. I remember twenty. Do you? Do you miss it? The simplicity of it? It wasn't simple. But it seems that way now. Are you wondering about my young pull of love? It's here. I am that beautiful child still. The one pulled by love. The one laughing and eating and running and dreaming. The one timid but climbing, like a monkey, from the box made for good little girls. I am still quite quiet and reserved, but I am returning to myself. I am rediscovering my deep wildflower soul, and let me tell you, it is bold.