I make a point of putting myself out there in a number of ways.  I want to demystify this ‘healing thing’; create a relationship that hopefully allows others to connect to me or folks like me with trust; provide my own catharsis, and help myself keep it real…nothing like knowing there are a potential few million people who might read what you write and call you on your shit to keep you honest, no? I hold back on things, though.  The first is how I’ve come to know myself.  In

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

I don’t share with many folk the experiences I have with some frequency; almost daily.  I’m not quite sure why I tend to keep them to myself.  I think there are a combination of factors.  They are at once deeply moving, awe-inspiring, sometimes physically taxing, some more ‘ecstatic’ than others, and seem just for me.  I don’t often try to understand, figure ’em out or connect the dots.  I also don’t connect them to life-stuff, psychic-stuff, spiritual-stuff and other whatnot

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

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

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