Reflections about enlightenment and the journey.
You’re showing up, you’re tending,and still—something feels flat,like the current isn’t flowing the way it usually does.Sometimes, presence doesn’t bring immediate joy—it just brings what is.And sometimes what’s here is a kind of fog…No drama not even despair. Just… dull.But this, too, is part of the cyclea kind of quiet integration that feels like nothing […]
She was fasting for truthwhile they were splashing in the river on Sunday mornings.She was memorizing scripture all day while they were licking honey off their fingers,sticky with life. She guarded the sacred scrolls,wrote doctrines on silence,burned incense at dawnwhile someone down the hillwas laughing so hardthey snorted tea through their nose. She bowed in
You are like the Earth. A sacred, sentient groundwhere anything—shame, fear, overindulgence, ancestral weight—can fall into youand be compostedinto richness, warmth, wisdom, and life. Not by trying to fix,but by allowing everything to land. Just as the forest floor welcomes every leaf,every death,every dropping—and slowly, softly, turns it allinto nourishment—so can you. You don’t have
I am that birdat the top of that tree, over there,chirping and singing. And yes,there are countless other birdsin all the other trees—each offering their gifts this day. Yet I wonder—do they understand my singing?Do they like my songs?And does that really matter? Because I must sing, anyway.I have denied it for too long.I must