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

I really don’t know jack about some shit.  What follows, naturally, is I don’t know Jack Shit. In particular, I don’t know Jack about a good bit of this otherwise-called “spiritual” stuff.  Some folks expect me to because I’ve chosen to add  the label of “healer” & “teacher” to the alphabet string after my last name (B.A. in Liberal Arts & Sciences & M.A in Criminal Justice for those who really wanna know!). Here’s a string o’ stuff that I neither know jack about nor have any

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

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

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