Night terrors and fertile soil

Whether it’s a ghost with a blade or the promise of certain physical disintegration, these scare tactics cannot touch our true essence. Illusions of impending catastrophe will try to convince us to abandon the sowing of seeds. They will urge us to remove our hands from fertile soil and trample precious new life as we run to erect unnecessary defenses. We have the capacity to dismiss the illusion of urgency. We can reject the fear and...

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Birth Is Untamable

There is nothing wrong with imagining different scenarios and working to manifest our preferences for the big day, but birth is inherently untamable. It will always articulate its wildness, whether in the moment we offer ourselves up to the unknown, or decades later in seemingly random bouts of rage and wounded fury. The wildness will always prevail.

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There IS More Than One Way to Birth A Baby

Without room made for questions or conversation, I was told by the attending obstetrician, in no uncertain terms, that "there is only one way to birth a baby and that is to push." Despite the various complications which made solid ground for intervention and my repeated pleadings over twelve hours in hospital, life-saving measures were refused... That is until my baby's heart stopped beating inside of me. Only then was I finally granted the surgery I knew could have saved my son's life. I endured the emergency cesarean without anesthesia...

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Discord is a Gift

This struggle is a beautiful one, and so much of the reason why we manifest in the flesh. I feel a collective awakening, wherein we’re turning our attention to the less honored aspects of self. When we can both honor and allow ourselves to embody the less attractive aspects of this process, we begin to sow seeds of alignment.

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Throwback Thursday (with a twist)

Ego was working overtime that night... Refusing the severity of my condition, I raged against and in spite of an injury which threatened to divert the unbridled path of self destruction I walked. Instead of heading to the emergency room, I clung with desperation to that path of rebellion and ruination, managing to track down ways to dull my physical pain AND "keep the party going." I succeeded tremendously. I am both ingenious and relentless when it comes to my own undoing.

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Can You Hear the Hawk's Cry?

A daughter’s tears absorb into the parched earth, as she bear witness to the imbalance and separation. Our work now is to hold space in acknowledgement of these traumas and assaults on the sacred. We must allow the festering wounds to emerge from the depths, right up to the surface for all to see. This purge is a necessary step and cannot be avoided.

Only through the opening, emptying and cleansing of our wounds can these spaces revive and re-cover.

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Welcome Back

Return of the visionary.
Return of the oracle.
Return of balance.
Realigned, we imagine again.
Creation unfolds,
Contesting all boundaries.
Making a mockery of limitation.

Gratitude for the agonizing forgetfulness that has revealed the magnificence of compassion, grace and unconditional love.
A divine homecoming.
Welcome back, priestess.

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There is no being without the bee.

We must share the plight of the bee and pay attention to all the animal encounters we are gifted with. Even the most painful ones. Our survival depends on our ability and success at interpreting the messages and honoring the messengers by acting upon them. We must protect the symbiotic relationship between Mother Earth and all of her inhabitants, from the mammoth to the minuscule...

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