Underneath modern history lies the ancient. Thanks to stories from many religious traditions including Christianity, Judaism and Buddhism, the proverbial “forty days” has come to be a symbol of the quintessential inward journey. A deep dive of being with oneself. And I guess that’s what I find relevant for all of us right now regardless of our circumstance and experience.
How are we being with ourselves?
Read MoreOn hearing the word “shiatsu,” most people either give me a blank stare or grimace a bit, no doubt conjuring images and/or sensations of incredibly painful to almost unbearable pressure that digs into specific points throughout the body. After seeing their discomfort, I assure them that that no, that is not what I do.
Read MoreI courted sobriety. I had been flirting with sobriety for a while. I would invite her into my life on one of my yearly cleanses, for four months one year as I prepared for an ayhuaascaa ceremony followed by ten days of silence, meditation and yoga and again to lose weight on an anti-inflammation diet. But she was elusive, always reminding me of the thing I wanted but couldn’t have and I would find myself back in a routine of having cocktails or wine (mostly wine) 3-5 nights a week. Not a raging alcoholic by any means. Highly functional. Deceptively so
Read MoreThe Little Mothers.
They are pure and potent. Pregnant with creative possibility. Forms that somewhow hold and birth the infinite. They themselves are holy with the eternal and that which cannot be named. They name it. And spell this world and that one into being. They dance with syllable, sound and syncopation…
Read MoreMy mother died early in the morning before sunrise on Halloween of last year. Just as the portal that connects the everyday newtonian, visible world with the unseen world of magic, spirit and energy opened. And a few days before that, she had become my universe again— the only world there was. All the other worlds didn’t matter. Mama was all I could see and hear and feel.
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