Drinking From the Source: How People of Different Faiths Can Get Along.
Institutionalized religion often forges psychological chains to keep us bound and in subjection, to keep us separate from one another.
Browsing Tag:
mountain
Where Shall We Place the Sorrows? {poetry}
It is all you, it is all in you
breathe your sorrows small
love them small
live them small
We know it is a big ask
but you must make room for your sorrow
We Are Mountain People.
It’s the tectonic plates of the soul shifting, creating tension for you to grow and evolve, pushing your true self out into life like a mountain rising.
Calling All Superwomen: Step up for Our Foremothers, Never Step Down.
We don’t need giant carved likenesses of our foremothers in granite on mountains, or statues in town squares. We don’t have giant head envy.
I Am Made and Destroyed by the Heat of Love.
Love is nothing but an endless series of questions, a sharp set of teeth in your valves, and an undying devotion to being awake because sleep is rendered useless. Love is everything including the very slowness of minutes when you await affection, the unbearable desire of wanting to fit yourself ...
You Can Do ‘The Thing’ And You Don’t Have To Be Happy To Do It!
All you actually need to have to do that dreaded Thing is a few seconds of stubbornness, enough stubbornness to try, to make a little teeny tiny small and smelly promise to yourself that you will try, that you're open to it not working and looking stupid and feeling small.
Making Ecstatic Mountains Out Of Molehills.
I collect these moments. As if they are shiny gold pieces and the brightest ruby and shimmering emerald stones. Treasures often found after digging through the mud.
My Climbing Rope Binds Me To The Power Of Your Wild Heart.
My love, you are Mount Everest. Some who dare climb to the heights of your frequency risk life and limb. Others — true athletes and adventurers — see just another mountain to be conquered. I, on the other hand, am an explorer, a seeker, not a conqueror. I am not averse to hanging ...
Bounce: A Journey Through Grief.
There will be some people who understand the passage you take, for they too have walked these lands, but many will not. It is not their load to carry or their journey to make, and they will sit expectantly waiting for you to bounce back, waiting for you to reach that distant horizon, so life ...
The Dark Side Of The Watershed. {prose poetry}
Tufts and flakes of cloud like the careless scuffs of an etcher upon an aquamarine surface of wax, revealing the shock of bronze beneath. A moment’s movement caught and held beyond time and space: such pure stillness, such godly perfection. It is sunset, and close to where we sit a dilapidated ...