When I was in the sixth grade, I saw an angel. At least, that’s what I called it. It was in the sky, it was alive, and not a bird or a plane or Superman. Not even a super-something else. It just was. And pretty as it just was. I told my mother who commemorated the experience with a poor concrete facsimile that confused me to no end. Because that wasn’t it and it wasn’t quite right in my adolescent mind. I don’t know if I ever thought again of that beautiful being I saw until

I’m asked with some frequency if I believe in reincarnation, past lives, life after death, the afterlife, Heaven, and such.  Invariably, my answer goes a little something like this:  “There are, at the very minimum around seven billion expressions of life  (7, 122, 966, 300 by today’s population clock at 8:05EST) that flux and flow between breaths.  It seems to be there would be that many experiences of death and post-death.  Although there may be some similarities, they are

“In a society at war with man and nature, a religion of peace and love might be fantasized into creed, rituals & otherworlds while it’s professed adherent continue to live [in a way that doesn’t support it]. ~ Jim Corbett (Goatwalking) “Everything is Love” is a mantra that’s been around a loooong time and has recently begun to irk my nerves.  It’s achieved a cult-like status with millions of people, variations shared ad nauseum with pretty pictures via Facebook and Twitter. 

Thomas Merton to Aldous Huxley during their discussion about genuine & pseudo-mysticism: What I would call a supernatural and mystical experience…has in it very essence some note of a direct spiritual contact of two liberties, a kind of flash or spark which ignites an intuition…plus something much more which I can only describe as “personal”, in which God I known not as an “object’ or and “Him up there” or “Him in Everything” nor as “the All” but as—the biblical expression—I

That line comes from Dan Millman’s Sacred Journey of the Peaceful Warrior.  Here, Mama Chia is reminding Dan that really, seriously, we don’t need to do anything. Period. It annoys us humans–particularly those w/ amazing gifts, to think that we don’t need to, or in fact, should not DO something.  I bring this up because as England burns amid other violence, there has been a repeated call among those of the proclaimed Lightworker (I’m really not quite sure what that means thes

Inspired by Rumi, blog posts about hate, love and god; and 24 hours steeped in connection with all that is. In Between Stories ~ Rumi Did you hear that? It’s the man who was looking for treasure. He wants me to finish his story. You didn’t hear him? Then, he must be inside me yelling, “Over Here! Come over here!” Don’t think of him as a seeker, though. Whatever he’s looking for, he is that himself. How can a lover be anything other than the beloved? Every second he’s bowing t

There are those who think of me as ‘merely’ naive when it comes to things of spirit.  Here, I ask they consider their own limitation of expression that appears bound by others’ ideas & ideals. The string of logic posed by quite a few is that I’ve not studied spiritualism, metaphysics, any aspect of any religion, and not living/speaking/healing/BE-ing within the bounds of someone else’s playbook.   I’ve not sought out sages or saddhus, not read from mystics and mages, not wors

Unknot the knickers, unpinch the panties; it’s not in the nikked sense of the word, it’s in the George Carlin sense. Not exactly rated-G but not porn. So, I had an inspirational experience this morning on Twitter.  Because it’s one way I communicate w/ the world and because I believe in putting all of me out there in every way, I posted, “I’m fucking frustrated!”.  Oh. My. Yup, I said it. Folks seemed a little taken aback that a “spiritual” (whatever that really means) someon

When I woke up this morning, I felt my body pulsing in a manner not entirely my own.  It’s not an unusual thing for me.  I always know I’m connected to you, he, she, that thing both within and without that connects us all.  It’s not unusual for me to feel another’s heartbeat alongside mine, feel another’s pain in my own body, know another’s joy in some quiet moments.  Today, though, the rythmn that moved in and around me developed a special meaning that I could not divine or

Inspired by a local listserve’s back-n-forth about prayer–the belief in, efficacy of, purpose for, and belly-aching about it not being the ‘proper’ platform to discuss such matters–I felt this. My Prayer for Today That you hear the Divine both within silence and a child’s laughter, That you see the Divine both in yourself and another, That you touch the Divine both in a blade of grass and burbling water, That you feel the Divine both in the sting of the wind and touch of a lo

This post is inspired by two events last week.  The first involved a session with a new client; the second, a reminder from Panache Desai to play like a five-year old. On Saturday, a new client came to see me for a number of reasons–some shared, some not.  He happens to be an older gentleman, who during the session fully admitted he didn’t want to grow up (although wanted some adult action!)  and, in fact, had a temper tantrum while on the table. Also on Saturday, Panache put

Simplicity seems to baffles many folks. Because we want to understaaand stuff.  The hows of stuff.  The whys of stuff.  How does it fit with what I think I already know?  Which box of life-data do I put this information in so that it makes sense to me? This concept has become stronger over the course of the past few weeks as I moved through a strain of viral yuck.  As I recovered, I moved from literally losing my voice (sounding far too much like a toad for my liking) to figu