I’m finding shelter amidst the rain drops,

An alchemical opening glistening in the silence

Of this purification between heaven and earth.

What is it that we are frightened of?

An immeasurable euphoria molded by extremes of both heartbreak and joy

In every pearl of water that falls from the sky.

You and me christened by the same moon, the same sun, the same stars

Only to see each other so differently that the gods

Contemplate our sanity at times.

In every raindrop, I will find you my friend.

And you will find me.

Inhale peace from the knowing that we fall from the same heaven

And pilgrimage along the same earth.

The only shelter is one in which we all call home.


Gather the bones of your ancestors my friends. Gently whisper into their ears.
The time has come to be released from their form.
Even in the world of spirit, some still struggle with the darkness. Others still fear the light.
Accompanied by the Divine, you will become master of your own heart as this portal emerges upon us.
A solstice so inviting, the sun and moon weep tears of ecstasy,
The stars surrender to a rhythm only love can create.
We are in a brief moment in time where we can dwell in the house of the gods.
All of us.
Both saint and sinner, equally held by tender mercies of a great compassion we have yet to behold.
It is here the unknown will be known to us.
Where God’s magnificent handiwork upon creation
Will be afforded the indispensable opportunity to forgive one another.
To release each other from the very darkness that brought us to this place.
To release our ancestors from their own fears.
Yes, a brief moment in linear time is upon us my fellow travelers.
We beseech you Solstice, have mercy on us and give us the strength to enter into love unconditionally.

The earthquake in Marrakesh

The fires in Maui

The flooding in Libya

Just a few of the tears in our sorrowful tapestry as we wait for more to come.

The earth has become a battlefield and

Death has become a neighbor

Waiting to be recognized with the

Early morning sun only to rest before the rising moon.

We are drenched in the unknown

Not knowing which ancestor to call upon for mercy

Forgetting that our hatred of those who have different wounds

Than us has scorched the earth

Dried her womb of creation

Drained her blood of hope.

We have been given time to remember the valley of God from which we came.

Every angel has shouldered the burden of our mistakes

Has forgiven our trespasses

Has talked with the sun, the moon, the stars

Has begged the earth to forgive us for not understanding what it means to love.

We still have time

To love.

It is a choice.

One that shouldn’t be so difficult to make.



So much suffering goes unnoticed or is marginalized. I watch as violence rises within humanity whose moral compass has been challenged by wounds past and present. Bearing witness to our own challenges, not to mention those around us, has become all about survival of the fittest.

Why do we reward the emotionally and spiritually strong and berate those we see as weak?

Why is there a need for separation?

A wound can leave a sense of depersonalization that all of us struggle with. It begs the question, who are we without our wounds?

We tend to isolate in times of weakness but present ourselves when we feel brave.

I see so much separation with our individual and shared suffering. It has an element of dehumanizing us because somewhere in that separation, our unworthiness motivates us to continue to separate even further from ourselves, from each other. Bearing witness for many carries shame, as though a wound becomes a trademark for our life story and survival is a means by which we attach our deepest insecurities to life itself instead of receiving life as a gift.

It takes a lot of inner work to truly see life as a gift and not a race to thrive and rise above suffering.

This competition we have created so that we may live evokes such an emotional and spiritual death, the dehumanization of humanity.

The us vs. them mentality will not help us rise above, but will only compel us to fold inward.

I respect your suffering.

I respect my suffering.

May an inspired peace arise from that space.

Not everything is projection.

There’s this place within us where chaos desperately searches for silence.

Where trauma is recognized on a preverbal level, having occurred transgenerationally.

Where cellular memory works tirelessly to integrate parallel realities and collective wounds.

Where the narratives of our ancestors dwell in our cerebrospinal fluid pulsing to the rhythms of every experience they have ever shared with us.

Where identity and integration become pathways for the validation of thoughts and emotions

We were never allowed to honor.

Not everything is projection.

Perhaps what we call projection is simply a need to feel safe.

An undeniable yearning for the acknowledgement that feeling safe Is a human and spiritual right

Afforded to us as we pass from the womb onto this sacred earth

Carrying our stories in our hearts not to be told through someone else’s experience,

But to be spoken when we do feel safe enough that even the silence can be heard rejoicing.

You’ve spent a lifetime trying to overcome your fears.

Waiting for the sun to rise because someone once told you

That fear cannot exist where there is love.

You’ve heard that ego is a poison which treads heavily on 

The spiritual path and ridding yourself of this aspect of being

leads to enlightenment.

You’ve been taught that this world is illusion and to practice non-attachment to all things physical.

I don’t remember a time when fear did not exist without love.

When darkness did not acknowledge the light and light learned from the darkness.

When ego did not balance the spirit and the spirit needed ego to grow.

When the physical world was a manifestation of love and creation was not illusion but a gift.

Who was it that claimed to know the perfect path to enlightenment?

Life is an experience and a consciousness.. 

Steps into your own heart and mind.

The silence will tell you everything you need to know.

The stillness will show you how to embrace it.

The emptiness will teach you how to live it.

Dear Earth,

Your wounds are becoming more visible each time you burn or flood with embers of stories past

trying to reconcile themselves with the present. Tears are no longer raindrops but immense storms that ravage peoples and lands leaving them unrecognizable for generations to come. The sun and the moon dissolve into your shadow like a newborn birthing out of the womb unsure of its new surroundings. Humans and animals prey upon each other like adversaries whose swords only end up piercing their own hearts. I stumble each time I call out to you in bewilderment, wondering if you and God can sit down in a field and talk placidly. You implode at every moment you are disgraced, which seems to be unyielding these days. How can I blame you?

You were once a Garden of Eden immersed in innocence before the toils of ego ran rampant amidst humanity. I pray you forgive us our trespasses and that we learn a gentler way to honor you. And perhaps one day, we too can join you and God in that lush field of wildflowers touched by an earth whose time has come to finally know peace.

All my love,



Immersed in grief

She tip-toed through the emptiness

Trying to push through the wounds

Left by a life not lived

Scattered like molten flesh and bone

Against an earth she deemed as foe

Against a heart she left unclaimed

In her quest to abandon her burdens

She forgot her own sacredness

Her own birth born to lifetimes of confusion

About to enter another incarnation

Another portal seeped in holy waters awaiting

The moment when the womb will set her free

To begin again

Another breath, another life

Another moment in time

When she can become the master of her own darkness

While dancing with the light.


There are moments you feel consumed by emptiness

Yet flickers of light enter into the abode of your heart

The fireflies yearning to illuminate every shadow on your voyage.

You wait, with bated breath, for your world to stop crumbling

For your heart to start beating again

For a firefly to find its way upon your shoulder with its light

Simply to whisper in your ear

“You are not forgotten.”

I see you.

Struggling through the darkness and hiding your wounds

Afraid to let anyone see your despair.

I see you.

Lighting candles along the way for everyone else

When no one sees how alone you feel.

I see you.

Raw with such grief that each tear has its own name

as it rolls down your cheek.

I see you.

Embodying such isolation only to pretend it is solitude.

I see you.

Afraid to disappoint others when no one even remembers to

thank you.

I see you.

Praying so hard for others in need while prayers for yourself

never cross your lips.

I see you.

Embedded in shame that you feel you are not worthy of love.

I see you.

Losing faith while trying so hard to inspire it in others.

I see you.

Especially in those times you do not see yourself.

I see you.

In those moments you do not want to be seen or feel you do not deserve such acknowledgment.

Know that as much as you are seen you are also deeply loved.

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