Naturally woven into the contrast of light and dark, I’m slowly getting comfortable looking at myself in the mirror, recognizing the darkness in my eyes and the lightness of my subtle body slowly taking shape with everything around me. Vibrate. Vibrant.

Easily overwhelming yet decidedly pure, this self-proclaimed process, precious in my hands. Reaching up, I grow faith and hold on to trust. Deepening roots I watch leaves bud, grow tall and crumble into the dirt and I remember the intricacy of my design in this vast system, each ventricle to be touched as a blessed passage, because we know where we come from, and in some ways, where we are going. The flow of grace in the uncertain can be as simple as a smile, a shaft of light, a shift in thinking like walking into a dormant space for the first time in a long while. And soon we carry weight and navigate light, together, welcoming the nature of transformation and the human capacity to love.

home is where the he(art) is.

Yew House, David Jonason

Clouds are moving fast above me. And I’m wondering if I’m sitting still enough to gather myself before the next storm. Steadily meditative, I am moving with the flow around me. A natural wave ever present even in stimulation, there is a center I am drawing from, we are drawing from, where we were drawn. A conscious power articulating itself within, a blossom to give voice to, my voice to give name to. What deems me speechless for many reasons, there are not words to give justice, yet it asks for a name anyways. And as I took myself out of the position of naming, so that I may accept all that is in a humble place of experience, I have neglected to see a power in me to co-create. What is within is without and I am the 'source of my own abundance' as much a source of my own misery as much a reflection of good in this world or, a sincere attempt made in good effort. My desire has shifted from want to surrender to higher purpose to self-less service to, sometimes nothing. For the first time, understanding faith as a practice. While cultivating a higher sense of trust in something larger than us, recognizing myself as a vehicle of transformation and a source of love. A blessed power it is to feel compelled to name something, for the sake of letting go, for the sake of a bloom.

So I dig inside the well of my soul for something worthy of this moment. And in so digging, extracting contradictions that are painful to face, still hovering old spaces, abandoned and empty, like ghosts waiting to be named. “It’s the letting be, in the letting go that takes discipline” she says. Acceptance is to let go with the full force of love. The message echoes against these walls as if to will a graceful collapse underneath the sound of my voice, and the silence waits for me like a blue sky after the rain.