Going out to play.
Love, heartbreak: Two sides, one coin.
Home again, shoeless.
In To It
Upon awakening, the great bear looked upon the night sky. Rather than seeing the constellation which was her namesake, she only felt that it was time to get up.
Incapable of mistakes
Dance then land with ease
Letting go is just another way of holding that which you love.
Quiet frog sitting,
Itch slips away unwitting,
Nourishing the bug.
Frolicking amidst the smoky grey home of innocence, radiant darkness met itself and the two went outside to play.
Resounding silence cradled the war-torn battlefield as soldiers fell dying and the opposing Generals met on common ground to discuss terms, each resolute that their sovereign nation remain intact. Meanwhile, the nearby King warmed himself with a hearty oat and berry cookie and a steaming cup of imported tea.
The tempestuous walls ran incessantly, for there was nothing for them to hit.
Fearlessly open, exposing your innermost beauty to the profound warmth of the generous sun. Breathe deeply, swallowing whole the intoxicating fragrance arising from your birth. Now die, smiling brazenly as the silent dusk compassionately traces your fading illustrious face.
Tilling The Soil
The farmer cannot feed the world if he hasn’t grown the grain.
The past stands revealed as the storm before the calm.
The warmth of your coldness is hotter than any sun ever was.
The natural order of things compassionately clears the sandcastles from the beach, leaving a blank slate for expansive, wondrous imagination to explore itself anew each day.
Healing stillness saturates even the most insidious heartbreak, brutality, and devastation.
I used to climb mountains. Now the mountains climb me.
Signpost To Nowhere
Courageously, appreciation sprouts from the pestilent turmoil of fear, giving way to a startled flowering of gratitude.
The willingness to be uncomfortable, if only for a moment, contains within it the very essence of courage.
Starving To Live
In not eating, there lies the possibility of death. But in eating too consistently, hunger forgets what it really is. That “forgetting” births a unique form of death: one in which hunger believes itself to be full, and death believes itself to be alive.
Beyond The Known
Wrap yourself in courage. Like the crisp, cool sheets on a cold winter’s night, it feels so sensuous and titillating: like love. Notice how your heartbeat warms the experience, and then with your feet and legs, go in search of more coolness that needs warming.