Monday, December 29, 2014

"Home." As life treads on, home’s no longer a specific town or house or room 
where we reside. It’s instead a series of moments we gather, 
like snapshots on a string of times spent with the people we love most. 
Time always stands stillest in those subtle moments that seem to echo loudest 
in this swiftly turning world.
If you could collect one crucial thing in this life, let it be the subtle moments, 
the snapshots, and collection of still points that make up “home”, 
and hold them close in spaces that remain open whenever you may need to return. 
When it’s time to dive into them, it’s simply time.

Victoria Erickson





'I love those moments when you just think, and you realize how happy you actually are. 
At that one moment in time, you can’t think of anything that brings you down. 
You put everything negative aside and you just smile. 
Random bursts of happiness are fantastic.'


Thursday, December 18, 2014

christmas is just around the corner



Everything you are looking at
You have already seen once
Through the eyes of love.
In this second vision,
Do not judge.
For you do not know
what needs your help here.
And you do not know
what has come to serve you.
Assume there is wisdom in every devastation,
And awakening power in every wound.
And every feeling you push away
May contain medicine.
Gentleness is the only answer.

Jeff Foster


People travel to wonder at the height of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, 
at the long courses of rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, 
at the circular motion of the stars; 
and they pass by themselves without wondering.



Augustine of Hippo, “Confessions”


Tuesday, December 9, 2014



I sit before flowers

hoping they will train me in the art
of opening up
that avalanches will teach me to let go
nothing


I stand on mountain tops believing
I know
but I am here to learn.

Shane Koyczan

vincent van gogh

Monday, November 17, 2014

Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark in the hopeless swamps 
of the not-quite, the not-yet, and the not-at-all. 
Do not let the hero in your soul perish in lonely frustration for the life 
you deserved and have never been able to reach. 
The world you desire can be won. It exists… it is real… it is possible… it’s yours.

Ayn Rand


Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Show me how to be brave. 
How to be made of still and steady ground instead of waves, 
or rocks instead of fire, and flickering, dying flame. 
How to walk in the storm and not be swallowed by wind, 
or how to breathe when your throat feels as though it’s rapidly tightening, and closing in. 
Help me speak the truth. 
How to pass along words that may be hard to swallow, 
how to not ignore all things that must be noticed. 
Guide me on how to be wrong. 
How to knock on a door and apologize, how to listen hard to feedback, 
how to nod and agree when I should simply go along.
 Help me unlearn what I’ve learned, unravel what shouldn’t stay tied, 
and walk away, even when it will never feel comfortable, gentle, or right.

Victoria Erickson, Writer 


Saturday, October 25, 2014

'We are taught to be afraid of the dark. 
We are taught to be afraid of difference. We are taught to be afraid of each other. 
We are taught to be afraid. Period.
Difference is a construct. Difference separates us. 
Separation makes it possible to harm one another and feel justified in doing so. 
There are differences between us. 
That’s what makes us beautiful. Differences can be feared or respected;
 honored or betrayed. 
Difference is often used against the “different…'


Monday, October 20, 2014

choose

When you’re deeply sensitive, love is ecstasy. Music is godlike. 
Heartache is a wide, somatic wound. Visual natural beauty is jewel-drenched, wild bliss. Tension and conflict are muscle tightening and toxic, straight down to the cells. 
So how do you hold it all? 
You rinse, re-centre, and remain clear. 
You recycle your sensitivity by propelling yourself and others to create 
waves of change in a super starving world. 
Direct your passion by spreading your heart only across what clearly matters most. Surround yourself with the souls and spaces that groove alongside your own- 
the ones that also desire to chase the beauty, 
courage and freedom we’re all here to teach each other. 
Choose love over fear and let go of all the rest, 
breathing what isn’t best for you straight out of your bones. 
Remember-there is power in the body. 
Harness it for the greater good, and allow nothing confusing, 
peace disrupting, or hurtful stand in its way.

Victoria Erickson


Love is not an equation, it is not a contract, and it is not a happy ending. 
Love is the slate under the chalk, the ground that buildings rise, and the oxygen in the air. 
It is the place you come back to, no matter where your headed.




Friday, October 17, 2014


Then the feeling moves on. It does not collapse; it is not whisked away. 
It simply moves on, like a train that stops at a small country station, 
stands for a while, and then continues out of sight.



Michael Cunningham, from The Hours

the next moment

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Always say 'Yes' to the present moment. 
What could be more futile, more insane, 
than to create inner resistance to what already is?

Eckhart Tolle

a point of view

Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Love is friendship that has caught fire. It is quiet understanding. 
Mutual confidence, sharing, and forgiving.

Ann Landers


Your successes and happiness are forgiven you only if 

you generously consent to share them. 

But to be happy it is essential not to be too concerned with others. Consequently, there is no escape. 

Happy and judged, or absolved and wretched.


Albert Camus, The Fall


Saturday, September 27, 2014


So often, I am moved by what others express in writing, 
and I feel the urge to share what I read.
With their words, I am either filled with a silent but immense Yes, 
that settles into me with a deep internal sacral click, 
like a puzzle piece falling heavily into place, or I feel a yearning down low in my soul 
— that softly drifting fog that I sense inside.
This soul, an intertwining light and dark mist I embrace; 
turning in slow circles, gently caressing the inside of me with lazy fingers, feels calm. 
Patient and content, compassionate and wise, faithful and exquisite, 
she watches with a knowing smile, saying, Follow me. 
It is time.


Kris Lord



Friday, September 26, 2014

magic

Things that bring in magic: paradigm shifts happening before your eyes, service, community, stillness within movement, gaining strength from the ground, groups of sweet people, sunshine on soft grass, and soaring from gorgeous, acoustic sound. 
These should be prescribed to anyone anywhere, and often. 
Simple medicine.

Victoria Erickson




Monday, September 22, 2014

Leave everything undefined,including yourself.Befriend uncertainty. Fall in love with mystery.Kneel at the altar of Not Knowing.Give your questions time to breathe.And the answers will find you.

Jeff Foster


Saturday, September 20, 2014

us


We see the world, not as it is, but as we are — or, as we are conditioned to see it. 
When we open our mouths to describe what we see, 
we in effect describe ourselves, our perceptions, our paradigms.

Stephen R. Covey 




Loneliness is black coffee and late-night television; 
solitude is herb tea and soft music. 
Solitude, quality solitude, is an assertion of self-worth, 
because only in the stillness can we hear the truth of our own unique voices. 

Pearl Cleage, “Deals with the Devil, and Other Reasons to Riot”


Friday, September 19, 2014

Love is a driver, bitter and fierce if you fight and resist him,
Easy-going enough once you acknowledge his power.


Ovid 


Wednesday, September 17, 2014

If I let you look into my eyes, silently, there are many things I may allow you to see, 
but you must have the vision. 
Like other mythical creatures that have left their marks upon us all, 
there is a danger in the seeking you have asked for. 
You don’t believe that Medusa literally turned her lovers to stone, do you?
 What of those who were already stone-hearted? 
Did they crumble?

Alison Nappi



Monday, September 15, 2014

starting school

You have always been there
right by my side.
Your hot hand pressed into mine
it's imprint touching my heart
just like it was meant to be.
us.
together.

And today we part.

You placed a bird where I sit
made of paper and your fair hands.
How apt my love
as you spread your wings
and take your first steps away from me
and into your first day at school.

Fly my love,
go as far as the moon,
you will make it my darling
I am sure,
you were always meant to be amongst the stars.

Kate Kelleher


Wednesday, September 10, 2014





trust


Trust that soft waiting place
where you feel everything and 
nothing all at once
where your quiver is empty of arrows
and there’s nothing left to hunt


Trust in the path unfolding
even when you cant see 
that darkness contains lifetimes
its a bitter sweet aching mystery


Stretch open your heart 
take a deep breath
its time to trust in the birthing
its time to trust in the death


Elyse Morgan


to inner child

AN OPEN LOVE LETTER TO YOUR INNER CHILD | 
 by ALISON NAPPI

To the child who couldn’t understand
why nobody could understand.

To the one whose hand was never taken,
whose eyes were never gazed into by
an adult who said,
“I love you.
You are a miracle.
You are holy,
right now and forever.”

To the one who grew up in the realm of “can’t.”
To you who lived “never enough.”
To the one who came home to no one there, and
there but not home.

To the one who could never understand why
she was being hit
by hands, words, ignorance.
To the one whose innocence was
unceremoniously stolen.

To the one who fought back.
To the one who shattered.
To the never not broken one.
To the child who survived.

To the one who was told she was
sinful, bad, ugly.
To the one who didn’t fit.
To she who bucked authority
and challenged the status quo.

To the one who called out
the big people for
lying, hiding and cruelty.

To the one who never stopped loving anyway.

To the child that was forbidden to need.

To the ones whose dreams were crushed
by adults whose dreams were crushed.

To the one whose only friend
was the bursting, budding forest.
To the ones who prayed to the moon,
who sang to the stars
in the secrecy of the night
to keep the darkness at bay.

To the child who saw God
in the bursting sunshine of
dandelion heads
and the whispering
clover leaf.

To the child of light who cannot die,
even when she’s choking
in seven seas of darkness.

To the one love
I am and you are.

You are holy.
I love you.
You are a miracle.

Your life,
your feelings,
your hopes and dreams–
they matter.

Somebody failed you but you will not fail.
Somebody looked in your eyes and saw the sun — blazing — and got scared.
Somebody broke your heart but your love remains perfect.
Somebody lost their dreams and thought you should too,
but you mustn’t.

Somebody told you
that you weren’t
enough
or too much,
but you are
without question
 the most perfect
and holy creation of
God’s
own
hands.


Monday, September 1, 2014

I wake before the rest of the world stirs in order to snatch away those few quiet moments 
of the day where anything and everything feels possible, 
where dreams and desires merge on a horizon that is yet to catch 
wishes spoken from other lips.

Kelly Fielding


Saturday, August 30, 2014


Some people say home is where you come from. 
But I think it’s a place you need to find, 
like it’s scattered and you pick pieces of it up along the way.

Katie Kacvinsky


Friday, August 29, 2014

As a single woman, I am often asked about love. 
People ask whether or not I am ever going to have children (the answer: No), 
why am I single, and, why have I never been married?
Most of the time I am okay answering these questions, 
I know myself well enough to answer them honestly, 
but sometimes I want to turn the questions around and ask people: why are you married?
What makes your heart come alive, really come alive? 
What makes your heart break wide-fucking-open?
How often do you feel that fall-to-the-ground, this-world-is-so-beautiful kind of love? 
Most people would not want, or know how, to answer such questions. 
I live inside these questions most days of my life.

Patricia Dowd


where is the magic gone?


It is hard to live a magical life in a world that disdains and rejects all that I experience and feel on a daily basis as an aberration, a fantasy or even as non-existent.
So many great artists - musicians, authors, painters, and just great spirits - choose to drown themselves in addiction or leave completely, because the over industrialized and cerebral world that we live in cannot - and more importantly, will not - 
support the idea of magical humans living in a magical world.
Magical people leave because it is almost as if there is no oxygen left on this planet that they can breathe. It is too alien and harsh to live in a world of Muggles, when you know 
how it feels to fly amongst the stars and commune with the Divine.
Of course I need to add the challenges of parenting in such a world… how do we preserve the magic for our children while also preparing them for a world which will not respect it?
Russell Brand asked this important question when writing about Robin Williams this week: “What does it say about our society when our brightest lights are extinguishing themselves?”
I do not know what the answer is. 
But I do know that I want to find one, that I want to continue to create 
more and greater art and community that nourishes and nurtures brilliance and magic 
and otherworldly vision. I do not know what form that can, will, 
or should take, but I know I want to find it. 
And maybe, just maybe, some of the more adventurous Muggles will join us.
Our very existence may depend upon it.

Kathleen McGowan









Sunday, August 10, 2014

It is well sometimes to half understand a poem 
in the same manner that we half understand the world
One of the deepest and strangest of all human moods is the mood which will suddenly strike us perhaps in a garden at night, or deep in sloping meadows, the feeling that every flower and leaf has just uttered something stupendously direct and important, 
and that we have by a prodigy of imbecility not heard or understood it. 
There is a certain poetic value, and that a genuine one, 
in this sense of having missed the full meaning of things. 
There is beauty, not only in wisdom, but in this dazed and dramatic ignorance.

 G. K. Chesterton, 'Robert Browning'


If you would hold my hand, maybe the rest of me could fall apart. 
I could shed this extra grief and begin again.

Krista Sassni

CARESS
photography by Jacob Lesher
more details: http://whoaitsjake.deviantart.com/art/5-328293100

Thursday, August 7, 2014


If you’ve been through enough relationships, you begin to suspect there’s no right person, just different flavours of wrong. 
It isn’t until you finally run up against your deepest demons, 
your unsolvable problems—the ones that make you truly who you are—
that we’re ready to find a lifelong mate. 
Only then do you finally know what you’re looking for. 
You’re looking for the wrong person. 
But not just any wrong person: the right wrong person
—someone you lovingly gaze upon and think, ‘This is the problem I want to have.’
I will find that special person who is wrong for me in just the right way. 
Let our scars fall in love.


Galway Kinnell


Tuesday, August 5, 2014

 It’s all messy:
The hair.
The bed.
The words.
The heart.
Life… 
WILLIAM LEAL


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