We are the bird and the work is the song, and we must sing it while we can. And when this song comes not from a desire to please or to prove or to achieve, but from a profound and earnest longing in the sacred nucleus of us, it is holy work too.
Don’t ask me about my sun, my moon, my stars;
Don’t think they will teach you my triumphs and scars.
The truth you are seeking won’t come in a word.
The secrets I’m keeping will speak when I want them heard.
Don’t ask me my sign -- no, don’t ask me that yet.
I looked up the symbol the coyote was speaking to me. The animal totem teaches how to live amidst paradox -- how to laugh, shapeshift, trust, be cunning and foolish, wise and yet stupid; ultimately how to not take it all so seriously. Known as the trickster, coyote medicine conjures childhood ...
She has within her infinite chances to break the chains that bind her and burn the past away, to be able to let go of the shore and flow upon the winding river that stretches eternally in front of her. The bridges she burns and watches fall in the distance are those which lead back towards that ...
You will run and laugh and sing, and one day you will meet someone who makes your heart beat with no pattern again, and you might try to hide or protect yourself, or compare the different states of love, but you must not grow up.
I found music to be the fastest and most efficient way to connect to Source, or what yogis call the Naad, or Brahma Nada, or the Sound Current. And I knew when I’d tapped into it because it felt like pure bliss and freedom. Or, it sometimes felt uncomfortable… because it was showing me how I ...