you’ve been warmed
You cannot seek water
from the one
who drained your seas,
and you cannot build
a home for your worth
inside of another being.
The medicine is when
you return to yourself
where you will remember
your strength,
reclaim your own rhythm,
and write your new song.
(~a poem from Victoria Erickson’s wonderful new book- Rhythms and Roads… Check it out at Barnes and Noble and on Amazon (Kindle and Paperback) at https://www.amazon.com/Rhythms-Roads-Victoria-Erickson/dp/099478435X/)
The old chair is here, offering itself, whispering, “Come, sit down, rest, you are weary. See, I am here…”
And the carpet that you’ve never really looked at before, never really valued before, because you’ve been so busy looking for enlightenment and salvation and love in the future – see how it just… lies here… offering itself fully to you, prostrate in your presence, whispering, “Come, lie, sit, stand, I ask nothing of you, I want nothing. I am here….”
You didn’t truly see the carpet because you wanted to get enlightened first. You wanted to be an enlightened person standing on the carpet! You were going to work on yourself for forty years, meditate your way to Nirvana, heal your traumas, perfect your ‘self’, transcend your ego, or wait until you were ‘ready’ before valuing the carpet, seeing the carpet, recognizing the carpet as a divine expression, and a tremendous gift.
It was all a postponement, you see. It was all a movement away from ‘what is’, from the extraordinary sacredness of the ordinary. It was a displacement into a future that could never come…
The carpet was always here. The chair was always here. Ready. Alive. Innocent. Waiting. Life was always here, offering itself, showing itself, calling you, beckoning you, to finally see it, inviting you to awaken, to come alive, to be a child of awareness. And yet, you’ve been so busy moving away, into a ‘future’, into a dream…
Just take a moment. Any moment. This moment. And behold it in loving awareness, bathe it in your light.
– Jeff Foster/ BATHE THE MOMENT IN LIGHT
Let them go,
all the leaves
once green regrets,
now sweet and rusted
wings of wisdom
floating on the
winds of reason.
Sweep them up
and craft a pile
shining with
imagination—
toss the sparks
into the air and
watch them
glow…
🖋️
Susan Frybort
How do we hold all this beauty
we are given to behold
in this wondrous world
within our fragile clay
without bursting at the seams
into rainbows
vividly colored dust
catching the light
laughing with delight
like children blowing bubbles
all iridescence and sparkle
sunlight on the water
kaleidoscope of a million diamonds
heart healing in the warmth
❤️💔💛
Amy Lloyd
Blessed be…series by Brianna Saussy
life: acoustic & amplified 