Monday, 31 December 2012

Sunday, 30 December 2012

New Year

I love this meme...Change your perspectives.

Happy New Year Dear Ones!!

Image credit: Henkie Hype

Saturday, 22 December 2012


Close the language-door,
and open the love-window
The moon won’t use the door,
only the window.


We are living in a time when we all need to come together 
and help one another. 
The spirits say we need to learn to get along. 

Indian Country Today Media Network
Photo by Peter Holme

From the Stars

Its breathtaking to consider:
You have two eyes, 
each composed of 130 million photoreceptor cells.
In each one of those cells, 
there are 100,000,000,000,000 (100 trillion atoms), 
that's more than all the stars in the Milky Way galaxy.
However, each atom in each cell in each eye 
formed in the core of a star,
billions of years ago, and yet, here they are today, 
being utilized 
to capture the energy released from the same process.
All to expand the consciousness that is YOU.
The universe has an interesting sense of irony, in that, 
you are the universe experiencing itself.
All you are is a thought.

Sunday, 16 December 2012


A compass for navigation, like any good inventor knows, is made with a piece of magnetized and a simple metal pin, but the makings of a moral compass are not as clear. Some believe that all are born with a moral compass, like an appendix or the fear of worms. According to others, the moral compass develops over time, as you discover the decisions of others, observing the world and reading books. In any case, a moral compass seems to be a delicate thing, and as people grow and venture into the world, often it becomes increasingly difficult to understand in which direction lies the needle tip, and increasingly difficult to decide which is the best thing to do. 
Lemony Snicket, 'The End'  'A Series of Unfortunate Events'

Saturday, 15 December 2012

Friday, 23 November 2012

On Human Capacity

Inside each of us there is an unimaginable capacity for goodness, 
to give without seeking reward, 
to listen without judgment, 
to love unconditionally.

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross 

Monday, 19 November 2012

I Have Learned

I Have Learned so much from God that I can no longer call myself  a Christian, a Hindu, a Muslim, a Buddhist, a Jew. 

Thursday, 8 November 2012

Living Process

"...there has been a revolution in how we perceive the body.  
What appears to be an object, 
a three dimensional anatomical structure, 
is actually a process, 
a constant flow of energy and information."

Deepak Chopra


He was making his way slowly towards the Elder during the ceremony. He wondered if the Elder would laugh at the cloth he brought, it wasn’t the usual print cloth he offered. He held the material tightly in hands and once again he examined it. The cloth was carefully cut from a well-worn brown sweater. This sweater contained so many memories. But the most recent, brought a batch of fresh tears. He sat down on one of the plastic lawn chairs that always adorned the sweat lodge grounds. It was here when she wore the sweater last.

When he felt he could speak without crying, he approached the Elder. He said, ‘there are no words that I could possibly say of the gratitude I feel for the healing ceremony you did for my partner. My sweet girl is at home resting comfortably right now and I have to come to pray for her.’ The Elder accepted the sweater cloth and the tobacco. She said, ‘oh yes, I remember her wearing this sweater many times. This was her favorite. I am wondering my boy if I can have a few words with you before we go into the lodge. The Grandfathers and Grandmothers aren’t quite ready so we have time.’ The man took a seat next to the Elder.

She looked at him with so much compassion; he quickly looked down at his feet fearing that he would be unable to control his tears. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder for a minute; then she reached down to the bag that lay at her feet. She rooted through the contents and then found what she was looking for; in her hand she held an Apache teardrop. She offered to the man and he accepted. She said, ‘thank you for taking my offering; I want to share a teaching with you. You know my boy; you are a good man. I mean it. I have seen you with your partner. You are kind and gentle. I have could see your worry and sometimes even your frustration. I don’t think many see it, but I could, it appears ever so briefly in your eyes, or in the smile that at the times seems to have painted on. I imagine that never in your wildest dreams would you have thought that your partner would become sick. I imagine you thought that you two would be like other couples going about life with the usual worries, but not worries like this.’ The man nodded and brought his hand quickly up to his face, using his thumb and finger to wipe away the tears that were threatening to spill over. He held the stone in his other hand so tight, he felt like he was imprinting it into his palm.

The Elder continued, ‘you know as old as I am, I have witnessed many good people, like yourself; go through things like this. I have heard well-meaning people say different things like; we aren’t given what we can’t handle, there is a reason for everything, I know how you feel, or the worst in my opinion, be strong. I must be getting old because sometimes I think, sad things just happen in our life and there is no good reason in the world. I think about the time I lost my mother and people said these things to me, I would just nod because I knew they meant well and sometimes, they didn’t know what else to say. I think for some, it is about trying to explain grief, or they just were just trying to make me feel better. I know they have their reasons and like I said, they really do mean well and want to express their caring and that is beautiful and compassionate.

The thing is that they didn’t know was my mom was sick for about a year before she went left to the spirit world and I was a witness to her progression towards that side, I guess that I don’t need to tell you, but it is very difficult to see someone you love sick. I felt sad, tired, angry, depressed, frustrated and hopeless. Worst of all every self-defeating thought I ever had seemed to surface. Oh, don’t get me wrong; there were times of great joy, happiness, inspiration, fulfillment, and so much love.

I guess that is the way of loss or when we grieve our old way of life; we go through so many feelings. And, people don’t know what to say, but like I said, they mean well. I suspect that it is similar for you. I want you to know that whenever you need to talk, I am here. I want you to know, you can tell me how you feel without feeling guilty or think that I will judge you. I guess most of all, I would like you to consider about praying for yourself once and awhile. I am going to suggest something and it is totally up to you, I just want you think about it; perhaps, you might consider not praying for strength. I say this because you have plenty of strength. I can see that. What I want to say is that I know that while your partner is sick and could use all our prayers, I also know you are going through this as well and can use them.

It is ok to process your feelings, no matter what they are. For example, if you are mad, get good and mad, talk about it; shout it out, it is important, but where you feel safe to do so. I say this because I kept saying to myself, once my mother goes to the other side, I will process my feelings then. But by that time, whenever I became angry, I felt good and guilty about feeling angry. It took me years to come to a place where I could just feel comfortable thinking about my mom or even cry about losing her in a healthy way. You see, many of my tears were about guilt and not loss. I am not saying; your partner is anywhere near going to the other side, I seen this when I did her healing ceremony and the doctors say she far from it. However, I believe the more you honor your feelings in a safe manner, where you don’t feel guilty afterward, the more you can be there for both yourself, and your partner. I am asking you just to give this some thought, my boy. I just wanted to give you something to consider.’ He stood up and reached down and gave her a huge hug. He asked, ‘can I keep this Apache teardrop in my medicine pouch?’ She answered, ‘sure for as long as you need to, but when you are ready, offer it up to the river where it can be washed clean from the energy it had provided you.

Now, I think those Grandmothers and Grandfathers are ready for us. Let’s enter into the lodge. We will pray for your partner and I am going to pray for you, silently; mind you; because I want to honor your feelings and when and if you are ready, I hope, one day soon that you might pray for yourself. I just want to say one more thing, I love you my son. I am proud of you. You are good and worthy man and I am honored to know you.’ With that the Elder placed her hands on her knees, facing forward, with her fingers spread far apart, and she rose, she used her hands to support her. She turned to the man, winked and said, ‘oh my bones, they feel older than I am.’

The man had a great deal to think about and he was determined to give full weight to the words the Elder was kind enough to share with him. He thought; ‘in this lodge, I am going to follow through on what I came to do, and that is to pray for my partner.’ Later, inside the lodge, as he prayed for his partner, he couldn’t help but smile because he could feel the prayers being said by the Elder for his well being. He felt embraced by not only the lodge, but also nurtured by the love that surrounded him.


I am listening to a deeper way.
Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me.
Be still, they say.
Watch and listen.
You are the result of the love of thousands.

Linda Hogan, Chickasaw  
Artistic by Valter Patrial

Litany Against Fear

I must not fear. 
Fear is the mind-killer. 
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. 
I will face my fear. 
I will permit it to pass over me and through me. 
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. 
Only I will remain.

Bene Gesserit Litany against fear from the literary classic Dune by Frank Herbert

Wednesday, 17 October 2012

Shared Wisdom

 A long time ago, Anansi the spider, had all the wisdom in the world stored in a huge pot. Nyame, the sky god, had given it to him. Anansi had been instructed to share it with everyone.

Every day, Anansi looked in the pot, and learned different things. The pot was full of wonderful ideas and skills.

Anansi greedily thought, "I will not share the treasure of knowledge with everyone. I will keep all the wisdom for myself."

So, Anansi decided to hide the wisdom on top of a tall tree. He took some vines and made some strong string and tied it firmly around the pot, leaving one end free. He then tied the loose end around his waist so that the pot hung in front or him.

He then started to climb the tree. He struggled as he climbed because the pot of wisdom kept getting in his way, bumping against his tummy.

Anansi's son watched in fascination as his father struggled up the tree. Finally, Anansi's son told him "If you tie the pot to your back, it will be easier to cling to the tree and climb."

Anansi tied the pot to his back instead, and continued to climb the tree, with much more ease than before.

When Anansi got to the top of the tree, he became angry. "A young one with some common sense knows more than I, and I have the pot of wisdom!"

In anger, Anansi threw down the pot of wisdom. The pot broke, and pieces of wisdom flew in every direction. People found the bits scattered everywhere, and if they wanted to, they could take some home to their families and friends.

That is why to this day, no one person has ALL the world's wisdom. People everywhere share small pieces of it whenever they exchange ideas.
Ashanti Folktale

Awakening Tool

"First, come into the present. Flash on what’s happening with you right now. Be fully aware of your body, its energetic quality. Be aware of your thoughts and emotions.

Next, feel your heart, literally placing your hand on your chest if you find that helpful. This is a way of accepting yourself just as you are in that moment, a way of saying, “This is my experience right now, and it’s okay.”

Then go into the next moment without any agenda.

This practice can open us to others at times when we tend to close down. It gives us a way to be awake rather than asleep, a way to look outward rather than withdraw."

Pema Chodron

Tuesday, 9 October 2012

The Kid in the Picture

October 9, 2012

There are things that come to you in life that you don’t expect. Sometimes the sudden surprises are difficult and demand the most of you in order to navigate your way to peace with them. Other times all they ask you is reflection. All they ask of you is a commitment to time in order to flesh out your insides with the definitive impact of their arrival. As I get older I’ve become better at both but much prefer the latter.

            There’s a picture that occupies a special place on my desk. It’s within easy reach. I take it down now and then and look at it. It’s an old black and white photo obviously taken with am early 1960s model Kodak camera. It’s grainy and faded. But there’s a quality of light in it that makes it magical. It’s a picture of a small boy and girl with their arms around each other.  

The boy in the picture wears a half smile. He’s standing in a fenced backyard squinting at the camera as though it’s something alien and he’s unsure of what to expect. He’s wearing pants rolled up four inches at the hem, suspenders and a nondescript shirt. His runners are worn and old looking. He’s small with a severe brush cut.

            The girl beside him is the same height. She’s dressed in saddle shoes with white socks, cowboy style jeans rolled up mid calf. Her hair is cut in a tomboy style with long bangs and she’s smiling at the camera like a thing she’s used to.

            It’s 1963. The girl is my foster sister. I am the kid with the rolled up jeans and suspenders. I am a foster kid and nearly I’m seven years old. That means the photograph is nearly fifty years old and it’s the first time I have ever seen it. The kid in the picture has been a stranger until now. When I look at him there are pangs of regret, of loss and of a time in my life that I never really fully occupied.

            Oh, I know who he was. Years of therapy have allowed me to see him in my mind’s eyes. I’ve held him, comforted him. I’ve told him that everything would be all right, that he was safe and that he wasn’t going anywhere alone anymore. I talked to him about dark and lonely nights. I spoke to him about how light when it comes can chase the darker things away. I spoke to him about permanence and home, belonging and security. Through all of that, I know him and he knows me.

            But I had never seen him. I had never seen the squint, the rough home hair cut, the outsized jeans and the face unfamiliar with smiles or the idea that something could be captured forever. He had only ever been a sea of feelings I carried from all those years. They were feelings of losses I couldn’t understand, of an emptiness at the core of me I had carried all my life but had never found the words for.

            He sits squarely in my palm like a treasured thing now. I have the photograph. It’s mine to keep. I never knew that it was possible for someone to give you years. I never knew it was possible for someone to transport you through time and space. Yet they did and the boy in the picture lives in every line and squint and half smile of the man I am at fifty six.

            See, I was a foster kid. I was a small Ojibway kid cut off from everything that was supposed to be mine. I was lonely and filled with pain. You can tell that by the eyes. No one knew that about me then. I was just a kid. I existed in files; files that no one shared with my foster family, me, school teachers or anyone who had anything to do with me. No one, not even the kid in the picture himself, knew his history.

            No one knew about my night terrors. No one knew about pain I carried in my body. No one knew how damaged I had been by tings I was defenseless against as a toddler and an infant. The terms, Children’s Aid and care, didn’t seem to apply much to me or thousands of other foster kids, then or now. As long as they exist only in files that will never change.           

The boy in the picture lives in me. He just doesn’t carry the pain anymore. I comfort him very day. I heal him and he heals me. Together we give ourselves a new past by creating a better day today. I belong somewhere. I’m loved. I smile at cameras. The child is father to the man

Monday, 8 October 2012

The Elephant Whisperer

Author and legendary conservationist Lawrence Anthony died March 2. His family tells of a solemn procession of Elephants that defies human explanation.
For 12 hours, two herds of wild South African elephants slowly made their way through the Zululand bush until they reached the house of late author Lawrence Anthony, the conservationist who saved their lives.The formerly violent, rogue elephants, destined to be shot a few years ago as pests, were rescued and rehabilitated by Anthony, who had grown up in the bush and was known as the “Elephant Whisperer.”
For two days the herds loitered at Anthony’s rural compound on the vast Thula Thula game reserve in the South African KwaZulu – to say good-bye to the man they loved. But how did they know he had died? Known for his unique ability to calm traumatized elephants, Anthony had become a legend. He is the author of three books, Babylon Ark, detailing his efforts to rescue the animals at Baghdad Zoo during the Iraqi war, the forthcoming The Last Rhinos, and his bestselling The Elephant Whisperer.
There are two elephant herds at Thula Thula. According to his son Dylan, both arrived at the Anthony family compound shortly after Anthony’s death.“They had not visited the house for a year and a half and it must have taken them about 12 hours to make the journey,” Dylan is quoted in various local news accounts. “The first herd arrived on Sunday and the second herd, a day later. They all hung around for about two days before making their way back into the bush.”Elephants have long been known to mourn their dead. In India, baby elephants often are raised with a boy who will be their lifelong “mahout.” The pair develop legendary bonds – and it is not
uncommon for one to waste away without a will to live after the death of the other.

A line of elephants approaching the Anthony house, but these are wild elephants in the 21st century, not some Rudyard Kipling novel.The first herd to arrive at Thula Thula several years ago were violent. They hated humans. Anthony found himself fighting a desperate battle for their survival and their trust, which he detailed in The Elephant Whisperer:“It was 4:45 a.m. and I was standing in front of Nana, an enraged wild elephant, pleading with her in desperation. Both our lives depended on it. The only thing separating us was an 8,000-volt electric fence that she was preparing to flatten and make her escape.“Nana, the matriarch of her herd, tensed her enormous frame and flared her ears.“’Don’t do it, Nana,’ I said, as calmly as I could. She stood there, motionless but tense. The rest of the herd froze.“’This is your home now,’ I continued. ‘Please don’t do it, girl.’I felt her eyes boring into me.
Anthony, Nana and calf “’They’ll kill you all if you break out. This is your home now. You have no need to run any more.’“Suddenly, the absurdity of the situation struck me,” Anthony writes. “Here I was in pitch darkness, talking to a wild female elephant with a baby, the most dangerous possible combination, as if we were having a friendly chat. But I meant every word. ‘You will all die if you go. Stay here. I will be here with you and it’s a good place.’“She took another step forward. I could see her tense up again, preparing to snap the electric wire and be out, the rest of the herd smashing after her in a flash.“I was in their path, and would only have seconds to scramble out of their way and climb the nearest tree. I wondered if I would be fast enough to avoid being trampled. Possibly not.“Then something happened between Nana and me, some tiny spark of recognition, flaring for the briefest of moments. Then it was gone. Nana turned and melted into the bush. The rest of the herd followed. I couldn’t explain what had happened between us, but it gave me the
first glimmer of hope since the elephants had first thundered into my life.”
Elephants gathering at the Anthony home It had all started several weeks earlier with a phone call from an elephant welfare organization. Would Anthony be interested in adopting a problem herd of wild elephants? They lived on a game reserve 600 miles away and were “troublesome,” recalled Anthony.“They had a tendency to break out of reserves and the owners wanted to get rid of them fast. If we didn’t take them, they would be shot.“The woman explained, ‘The matriarch is an amazing escape artist and has worked out how to break through electric fences. She just twists the wire around her tusks until it snaps, or takes the pain and smashes through.’“’Why me?’ I asked.“’I’ve heard you have a way with animals. You’re right for them. Or maybe they’re right for you.’”What followed was heart-breaking. One of the females and her baby were shot and killed in the round-up, trying to evade capture.
The French version of “The Elephant Whisperer”“When they arrived, they were thumping the inside of the trailer like a gigantic drum. We sedated them with a pole-sized syringe, and once they had calmed down, the door slid open and the matriarch emerged, followed by her baby bull, three females and an 11-year-old bull.”Last off was the 15-year-old son of the dead mother. “He stared at us,” writes Anthony, “flared his ears and with a trumpet of rage, charged, pulling up just short of the fence in front of us.“His mother and baby sister had been shot before his eyes, and here he was, just a teenager, defending his herd. David, my head ranger, named him Mnumzane, which in Zulu means ‘Sir.’ We christened the matriarch Nana, and the second female-in-command, the most feisty, Frankie, after my wife.“We had erected a giant enclosure within the reserve to keep them safe until they became calm enough to move out into the reserve proper.“Nana gathered her clan, loped up to the fence and stretched out her trunk, touching the electric wires. The 8,000-volt charge sent a jolt shuddering through her bulk. She backed off. Then, with her family in tow, she strode the entire perimeter of the enclosure, pointing her trunk at the wire to check for vibrations from the electric current.
“As I went to bed that night, I noticed the elephants lining up along the fence, facing out towards their former home. It looked ominous. I was woken several hours later by one of the reserve’s rangers, shouting, ‘The elephants have gone! They’ve broken out!’ The two adult elephants had worked as a team to fell a tree, smashing it onto the electric fence and then charging out of the enclosure.
“I scrambled together a search party and we raced to the border of the game reserve, but we were too late. The fence was down and the animals had broken out.
“They had somehow found the generator that powered the electric fence around the reserve. After trampling it like a tin can, they had pulled the concrete-embedded fence posts out of the ground like matchsticks, and headed north.”
The reserve staff chased them – but had competition.
“We met a group of locals carrying large caliber rifles, who claimed the elephants were ‘fair game’ now. On our radios we heard the wildlife authorities were issuing elephant rifles to staff. It was now a simple race against time.”
Anthony managed to get the herd back onto Thula Thula property, but problems had just begun:
“Their bid for freedom had, if anything, increased their resentment at being kept in captivity. Nana watched my every move, hostility seeping from every pore, her family behind her. There was no doubt that sooner or later they were going to make another break for freedom.
“Then, in a flash, came the answer. I would live with the herd. To save their lives, I would stay with them, feed them, talk to them. But, most importantly, be with them day and night. We all had to get to know each other.”
It worked, as the book describes in detail, notes the London Daily Mail newspaper.
Anthony was later offered another troubled elephant – one that was all alone because the rest of her herd had been shot or sold, and which feared humans. He had to start the process all over again.
And as his reputation spread, more “troublesome” elephants were brought to Thula Thula.
So, how after Anthony’s death, did the reserve’s elephants — grazing miles away in distant parts of the park — know?
“A good man died suddenly,” says Rabbi Leila Gal Berner, Ph.D., “and from miles and miles away, two herds of elephants, sensing that they had lost a beloved human friend, moved in a solemn, almost ‘funereal’ procession to make a call on the bereaved family at the deceased man’s home.”
“If there ever were a time, when we can truly sense the wondrous ‘interconnectedness of all beings,’ it is when we reflect on the elephants of Thula Thula. A man’s heart’s stops, and hundreds of elephants’ hearts are grieving. This man’s oh-so-abundantly loving heart offered healing to these elephants, and now, they came to pay loving homage to their friend.”
His sons say that their father was a remarkable man who lived his life to the fullest and never looked back on any choices he made.
He leaves behind his wife Francoise, his two sons, Dylan and Jason, and two grandsons, Ethan and Brogan.

Monday, 24 September 2012

The Birth of Tragedy

And me happiest when I compose poems.
Love, power, the huzza of battle
are something, are much;
yet a poem includes them like a pool
water and reflection.
In me, nature’s divided things—
tree, mould on a tree—
have their fruition;
I am their core. Let them swap,
bandy, like a flame swerve
I am their mouth; as a mouth I serve.

And I observe how the sensual moths
big with odour and sunshine
dart in the perilous shrubbery;
or drop their visiting shadows
upon the garden I one year made
of flowering stone to be a footstool
for the perfect gods
who, friends to the ascending orders,
will sustain this passionate meditation
and call down pardons
for the insurgent blood.

A quiet madman, never far from tears,
I lie like a slain thing
under the green air the trees
inhabit, or rest upon a chair
towards which the inflammable air
tumbles on many robins’ wings;
noting how seasonably
leaf and blossom uncurl
and living things arrange their death,
while someone from afar off
blows birthday candles for the world. 
Artwork by Sawako Yamamoto
Poem by Irving Layton 

Friday, 21 September 2012

On Maturity

Great Spirit

On Breath

The most amazing miracle is the coming and going of this Breath. 

Out of nowhere it comes and to nowhere it goes.

From this breath comes the Gift of Life and Life makes all the other miracles possible. 

You can Be.

You can admire.

You can be thankful that you exist.

You can feel and give kindness.

Prem Rawat

Wednesday, 19 September 2012


Listen to what you know,
Instead of what you fear.

Richard Bach

Friday, 7 September 2012

It is in the Shelter of each other that the people Live.
Irish Proverb

Arrogance makes you strong for the moment, 
Humility brings strength for every moment.

Friday, 31 August 2012

On Gramas' Rules

As they sat, each with her own mug, the old woman settled on the bed and the girl on the chair, the grandmother began to speak. 

"You will find two kinds of people in the world. Some say that there are the bad and the good. But it isn't like that.  Since what is good for one may be bad for another.  No, that doesn't work.  You have to depend on your own intuition."

"There are those who make you feel inside as if you are drinking a good, warm soup - even if you are hungry and the two of you have nothing to eat. In spite of that they nourish you.
And then there are those who cause you to freeze inside, even if you are sitting before a roaring fire and have eaten your fill. Those you should keep away from. They are not good for you, even though others might say they are good people. Remember that my chick."

The girl nodded.

"The second rule says that the door to a person's heart can only be opened from within. If there is someone who will not let you in, it's no use hammering and kicking and lamenting and complaining. For what if the door is ajar, and you push it shut? With some people it can never be opened again."

"What else?" the girl asked.

"Then there is the third and most important rule. It's about a person's need to continue wishing and hoping, for then, at last, you will get what was wished and hoped for - even if it is in a completely different way from what you had imagined."

The Crow Girl


I have traveled through the round of countless births.
How painful is birth over and over again.



Send out caring thoughts, 
On gentle healing wings,
To reach around the world, 
For thoughts are living things,
Send thoughts to those in sorrow, those in sickness and despair,
Like ripples in a pond, thoughts spread everywhere,
Send thoughts of love and healing, 
To each far distant shore,
And pray for all the nations to be at peace once more,
For loving thoughts you send, many miracles are wrought,
So never underestimate, the power of your thoughts.

On Love

On Play

Play is the only way
the highest intelligence of humankind
can unfold.
Joseph Chilton Pearce

On Sunrise

To be able to greet the sun with the sounds from all of Nature is a great blessing, and it helps us to remember Who is the real provider of all of our benefits.
Thomas Yellowtail, Crow

On Infinity

In each infinitesimal part of yourself resides the One 
in all of its' parts.  (B1, 146) 

Ra/Carla Rueckert

Sunday, 26 August 2012

On Saints and Sinners

Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.
Oscar Wilde

I would like to introduce Dreamspeaker, a very gifted Soul

On Anger

Why do people shout in anger at each other?  Why do we shout when the other person is just next to us?

When two people are angry at each other, their hearts become distant. To cover that distance they must shout to be able to hear each other. The angrier they are, the louder they shout to hear each other, to cover that great distance.

What happens when two people are in love? They talk softly with each other.  Even in silence, communication is full and complete. The distance between their hearts is very small or nonexistent. 

So when you argue do not let your hearts get distant.  There may come a day when the distance is so great that you will not find the path to return.

Saturday, 25 August 2012


We are all aware of each other on levels deeper than the horizon.

Wednesday, 22 August 2012

Before you judge

Before you judge others or claim any absolute truth, consider that you can see less than 1% of the electromagnetic spectrum and hear less than 1% of the acoustic spectrum.  
As you read this, you are travelling at 220 kilometers per second across the galaxy.  
90% of the cells in your body carry their own microbial DNA and are not 'you.'  
The atoms in your body are 99,9999999999999999% empty space and none of them are the ones you were born with, but they all originated in the belly of a star.  
Human beings have 46 chromosomes, 2 less than the common potatoe.  
The existance of the rainbow depends on the conical photreceptors in your eyes; to animals without cones, the rainbow does not exist.  So you don't just look at a rainbow, you create it.  
This is pretty amazing, especially considering that all the beautiful colors you see represent less than 1% of the electromagnetic spectrum.

Tuesday, 21 August 2012

Valuing Exercise

By mindfully practising this principle, you will notice yourself gently moving out of abusive relationships.

One can start by simply noticing, then gently making a choice.
Small choices work too, step by step. 

 Choose to place your energy where you are valued.

Saturday, 18 August 2012


Today, wherever you go, carry the intention of peace, love 
and  harmony in your heart.

On Change

The Universe is a continuous web.
Touch it at any point and the whole web ripples.

Our chosen shiftings can begin in any moment of Now.
Be gentle in your shiftings, 
in Knowing your movement ripples outward,
affecting your whole system.

The original rainbow warrior helmet, 
a spider with a drop of dew on his head.

Photo by Uda Dennie, in his garden on Batam Island, Indonesia

On Sacredness

On Healing

And I deeply pray that 
everyone discovers that they can strip away anything that might be holding them back on every level, and, 
can begin living Life 
from the real essence of their own Soul.

Spaceship Earth

Thursday, 16 August 2012



One of life's challenges is to discern whether the inner voice that prompts us in a particular direction is sourced by the sacred that lives within us or is from a smaller, less aware aspect of self that is sometimes caught in fear. 

The Beloved may urge moving in a direction that is challenging, but it never holds the edge of harshness that arises from old wounds or fresh fears. Wisdom speaks in a tone of tenderness even when urging us to find the courage to be who we are.

Oriah Mountain Dreamer