when there is safety
and deep roots
the healing can start
Like an earthquake that loosened
those deep ancient roots
what was hidden has now surfaced
to be healed or revealed
Healing is not linear
or a one and done
like all life circumstance
it is cyclical and spiral
When it comes back to
the surface, it is not
a failure, a revisiting of
past wounds
It is an opportunity
to use my lived experience
to deeply heal what was
shameful and dark
to be turned over
during this cycle
re-examined and not
discarded
no more
no more
Tag: safety
Little Bird
Soar little bird
find safety in the many.
Many hungry mouths
they do not know where, what
or when their next meal is.
The struggle for survival is real.
You have to always be on guard
in case of predators.
Even in all the danger and uncertainty,
the little bird sings its melody
so sweet and uniquely its own.
It sings not only as a calling,
as a means of communication,
but because it is its own
unique expression of the good,
the beauty, the gift of this thing
called life.
Many humans may never know
what a gift today brings.
The little bird reminds me
that I am not alone;
that seeing the good is not wasteful
or a trivial thing
but the only true and real reason to live.
Enjoy the brief moments of pleasure and joy.
They are the things made out of stardust.
What a marvelous thing that made me and you.
That spark of life. I take it gently in my hand
and place it over my heart
in a revery and duty
it is mine to carry.
No longer secret knowledge
only for the saints and the sages.
It is not so quiet and humble
but the echoes of the ancients
bellowing out on loudspeaker
and humans have been too busy
living in their head
that many may have missed
the many glimpses of this universal truth.
Each day is a gift.
It does not only belong to the few.
It is a universal truth and right.
Hold out your hand.
Be prepared to not only see but feel
the magic transform into raw energy
to be that songbird in the trees
with not only a tale in its heart
and a whisper of truth on its tongue.
But to rejoice and celebrate this day
upside on the earth
Feel and be that joy, my little bird.
The way in
Do you believe in magic?
fairy wings that sparkle true,
birdsong that calls for my attention,
What turns the tide in the ocean,
and whispers "grow" to the trees'
invisible blossoms?
I refuse to look for evidence
of the contrary or a
second opinion.
Instead, I hold tight to this truth.
There is magic inside of me
Inside of you
The way in starts with the heart
the beat uniquely yours.
a jewel in your chest
sees the sparkle of another.
The way in starts with what inspires you,
where do you find your footing,
what uplifts and grounds you
deep like tree roots.
The answer can seem fleeing
and almost imperceivable
like a slight movement in the
corner of my eye
I saw it! I felt it.
I know it deep in my bones.
And I have the authority
to choose to see the magic
in a blossom, in a leaf,
in a snowflake, in a branch
now brittle but once full of life
coursing through sweet nectar.
A perch, a safe place to land.
We all want safety.
What brings you home
to your heart, to your own sense
of belonging?
There is magic there too
in your strands of hair
down to your toes
life courses through
your veins, your breath.
The magic of atoms and elements
made of stardust to make you.
Now
Do you believe in magic?
The path to freedom
The path to freedom,
truth be told,
lies in the heart,
and in the letting go.
Though at times it may appear
disheveled and eroded
by river, brook and spring,
the path winds through.
Even through narrow trees and shrubs
surrounded by darkness and echo.
uncertainty looms as
decisions and choices are made.
Remember,
to embrace freedom
Listen and still the body,
Speak from the heart.
Our hands embrace
and we guide each other.
Our steps match in rhythm and stride.
A dance of truth and pure awareness
illuminates the paths unseen.
I listen to my heart
our hands let go
knowing there is safety here
in freedom.
“Make of yourself a light”
The darkness can be all too consuming.
Fear lurches behind every corner.
Each stone unturned, untouched
Afraid of what lies underneath.
Secrets are meant to stay that way
Buried, dark and moist.
Like fungi in the undergrowth of a dying tree,
it consumes the decayed
The fallen.
How can the light reach even here?
A darkened warm cave
What seemed like shelter and safety is now a cage
Even with its wide open mouth entrance.
Light at the end of the tunnel
Brings hope and a promise.
It ushers us home –
a reunion of sorts –
of what it’s like to be free.
To feel the warm rays is to
Wrap love around me like a blanket.
There is protection and comfort here too.
Though I may recoil and try to go back.
In the safe quiet of the darkest night sky,
I reach out and feel your warmth
Knowing I have all that I need.
The Shooting Range on a Sunday Morning
It’s 9 A.M. on Sunday morning. The booming sound of shots Pierces the quiet atmosphere. Usually like clockwork The shots of gunfire ring like a Sunday sermon. In those moments at the range, You feel connected to a higher power. You may even feel that power in your hands. The handgun is a tool. There’s challenges, targets, and goals. You can set your eyes on the prize. Like all good things It can be loud, hot, and messy With occasional painful flying projectiles Of the shell casings. When the round is complete, We all work together to clean up the debris. Maybe that’s what I crave sometimes. Working together so we can enjoy A distraction and clutter-free space. It’s all in the expectation and communication of the group. We can protect ourselves with safety precautions. Be responsible Americans. The target is clear and tangible. We can see our growth and our setbacks. Each day is an opportunity to try and improve Again and again.
Healing Insights 