Community
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San Francisco, Summer 1978 ~ à Jérémie
I was holding your small hand in mine as we crossed the magnificent Golden Gate Bridge, your father walking beside us. We heard about the Dalai Lama Peace March coming to town, and the meeting place was the Sausalito waterfront, where we lived. It was both a solemn and festive occasion, and we showed up in our most colorful and finest hippie attire: long flowing hair and bandanas – de rigueur for everyone – tattered jeans and embroidered Guatemalan shirts, layered petticoats and fringes and for me, ankle bracelets that jingled with every step I took. My flower-child years were the only ones when I dared to make music. And…
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Shapeshifting
Each morning, I stretch my limbs and allow the soft animal in me to pull and push. This way, that way, a limb, then another, in a familiar routine. In turn, every single particle of my inner creature calls attention to itself. The mild animal in me is no longer soft. It has awakened into agility and readiness to shape shift. Now stretched into a bow and arrow, determined and practised, it aims for the orgre’s underbelly. With precision, it busts the lies and exposes the moral injury we are enduring at the whims of drunks gorged on greed and power. And thus, while shattering this waking nightmare, we reclaim…
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Whose child is suffering?
"How could that possibly matter?"
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Moving away, I’ll miss my winged neighbors
There is so much I shall miss about this ancestral home; the birds are at the top of the list.
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Ho’oponopono~ Pacific Islanders’ Practice of Putting Things Right
4 steps to learning a simple healing practice
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The Story of My Soul Name
Ceolanna ~ She Who Bears Gifts of the Soul
