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Are you looking for a quiet place? But friend, you are already here. The repose of your blood between pulsations. A secret chamber in your chest where you have no enemies, no one is to blame, and the endless journey has never begun. Here even prayers for peace need no speaking. You can disperse into the finer element you are before you breathe. You can be the sparkling sky in the lungs of a hummingbird, smoke of sage in desert air, aureole in emptiness where the flame just blew out. Here you can burn away because you remember your body is made of vanished stars. You can stumble and fall into your own rhythm, which feels like you are not moving at all because your mind is at rest in flesh that needs no discipline of stillness. You are a nest inside the egg, a mother's womb that carries her own savior, the seed of what you have always been seeking. Now flower on a Winter night. - Alfred K. LaMotte
We cannot live without the night, gossamer veils of emptiness. The Goddess is black, but each pore of her body emits a rainbow. Motionless, she watches beyond care, yet flows like a river of healing. Doesn't dark energy circle us all like Mother Raven? Take root in your grief. That is where the sun is born. Ascend through a bolder falling. Her womb is immaculate silence. Her void is moist with stars. Yet she who cradles them all has become your breath. Haven't I told you there is wine in the void between thoughts, Joy and sorrow mingled in one cup? Now taste, and who knows if tonight you might not finally embrace the fierce beauty of your beaten heart? - Alfred K. LaMotte
There is no refuge No destination No resolution Only This Blessed are the fruit of my womb Blessed are the cycles that have no end Blessed is the Wound Blessed is the Hole Blessed is the space that holds you always Blessed is this unfinished life Blessed is the eternal and unchanging Blessed are we who bear the unbearable who carry our cross from first to last breath Blessed are we who know the relentless mercy of the Mysterious Other known only when we sacrifice our reaching There is no refuge No destination No resolution Only This To you who are the Birther of Samsara and the doorway to Nirvana To you whose Love is the bridge that flows between them To you who holds the mirror of perfection inside the crack of imperfection whose Road leads nowhere and is everywhere To you whose breast is the refuge of no refuge To you whose passion dissolves all ignorance and whose innocence reveals unstained beauty Enveloped by your Grace With nowhere to go Around and around Heart to the Ground Here I am -Maya Luna Foolish Goat Woman by [email protected] I want to put down what the mountain has awakened. My mouthful of grass. My curious tale. I want to stand still but find myself moved patch by patch. There's a bleat in my throat. Words fail me here. Can you understand? I sink to my knees tired or not. I now know the ragweed from the goldenrod, and the blinding beauty of green. Don't you see? I am shedding my skins. I am a paper hive, a wolf-spider, the creeping ivy, the ache of a birch, a heifer, a doe. I have fallen from my dream of progress: the clear-cut glass, the potted and balconied tree, the lemon-waxed wood over a marbled pillar, into my own nocturne. The lullabies I had forgotten. How could I know what slept inside? What would rend my fantasies to cud and up from this belly's wet straw-strewn field- these soundings. - Vievee Francis
What if... inside of you right now there was the precious treasured long-awaited radiant beloved You, just waiting to be born...
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