8:45 pm, 1/14/2022, Sanctuary. Crunched Walnut.

What follows is an exercise of expression, a release of perfection, and an opening to a deeper intimacy between you and me.

~

What does “community” mean to you?

What lies in the way of radical acceptance of your deepest shame filled crannies?

Where is the line between acceptance and complacency?

It sometimes feels easier to hold onto fear and victimhood so tightly my knuckles turn red as they do on the cold and windy forest trail, hands grasping the dog leash tightly, forgotten gloves laying in lonesome stillness on the table by the front door.

New neural pathways.

Embodied ways of being.

This shit is getting easier.

I can taste it.

~

Crunched walnuts in hot soup by the hands of my beloved. Salt and chicken feet, rose petal tea and a cracked lip, dried and chapped by cold and the heat of furnace and home.

Hot soup and cold noses. Covid-19 recovery and immunity wars.

Try less. Trust more.

Celebrate often.

Get organized, and then let it flow.

You’re in far less control than you’d like to believe.

There are beings conspiring for your flourishing who’d appreciate your bright eyes and relaxed stomach muscles.

We are whole, first and foremost.

We are held, by beings seen and unseen.

We are being lied to and led astray by those who “know” their way is best.

We are awakening to our own beauty, the power of our sacred breath, the sensation of cold wind on faces full of the weathering of becoming.

May our wild Song surge through our veins and pour through the holy spaces between our atoms.

May we be sanctuaries of sanity for one another.

May I remember that sanity is never found in “my side” and my stories, but in…

… the intimacy and reciprocity with the ecosystems that hold me…

… my ability to listen and to feel…

… my present awareness, led by my radiant and loving heart…

… my calm and curious mind…

… my anchored nervous system…

… the galaxy of breath flowing deeply and rhythmically into my interwoven symphony of…

“Me”.