SOON BUDS WILL EMERGE

What weather is washing through your world?

Is the rising angle of the sun inspiring you with hope?
Or is it shining too brightly on the gray comfort of your grief?

Are spring pollens excitedly carrying forward and giving birth to your dreams?
Or are the bees and hummingbirds simply scattering your visions to pretty petals with no discernment and without a plan?

Is the growing green filling your heart, infusing it with fullness and mindless and smiling joy?
Or does it invade and irritate you, penetrating the dull and dark closure of those four chambers in your chest, the ones you think you’d rather leave alone?

Are the spring winds whipping you awake at dawn?

I feel these sacred whirls of chaos and change spinning me like a tornado, churning up winter’s quiet and sleep.

I thought I’d be resting forever, but my blood turned into a gusty and warm breeze waking the subtly slumbering spaces I still have inside.

Soon buds will emerge, maybe even from my limbs. I wonder, what will the garden look like this year?

MEET THE YEARNING FULL ON

Sometimes yearning is fierce,

a raging fire consuming the path itself,

so you’ll free fall into the abyss 

of the moment.

Sometimes yearning is subtle,

a soft canopy of dandelion fluff, floating in the wind. 

It whispers to you as it blows against your skin.

Sometimes yearning is full of mischief,

a sneaky trickster, twisting your thoughts,

distracting you from the very oneness you seek.

But remember this!

Yearning bursts you into flames, 

obliterating you open.

Yearning pollinates your infinite seeds, 

fertilizing you.

Sometimes, you meet the yearning full on, 

and it brings you to life.

WHERE HAS YOUR WILD GONE?

Is the wild buried in your belly after winter’s slumbering?

Have you lodged it invisibly inside you, 
leashed to the grip of control?

Is a part of you demanding it wait patiently,
yearning to be released with no hope?

Have you required it to make a home for itself,
so deep inside that its messy cries to shine are
too distant and muffled to interfere with your quiet?

Where has the wild gone?
That particular place, breathe right into it, do it now!

After long months listening to the even drudgery
and pitter-patter of rain on the rooftop,
feel the wave of momentary terror wash over you
as you open the gate to your wild.

After your initial shock, grief, or fear;
celebrate the freshly found freedom and aliveness!

Do you feel the "YES!" resounding within with the strength of a hurricane? I do.

Where has the wild gone?
It hasn’t gone.

She yearns for you to notice her,
to give her life,
to move her through you.

Let the weeds grow rampant and
turn your well-manicured lawn into a field of magic.

Let spring burst you at the seams of your control
and breathe life’s universe.

Let it bloom you into the beautiful blossom that you are.

Now, go spread your seeds of wild.

UNSHAKEABLE

My creative soul emerges when the house is swept and death is at the doorway.

These bits of truth don’t make themselves available when I’m attached to the past, they require the utmost surrender, and the absolute embrace.

If I hold onto anything, the universe just stares me down, knowingly waiting for me to open my arms to it.

After curling up for the winter, I have to stretch my limbs to remember the chaotic place that feels like roots - solid and deep, unshakeable.