I don’t know when it was I ran out of space for outrage. I can’t remember if there was a singular sudden clap of thunder-like something or whether love just seeped in through all the cracks. I do remember thinking that, when I finally noticed, my brain went to “Something is wrong with me. Maybe I’m just numbed to it all.” We do that, don’t we? To try to make newness make sense? Our go-to isn’t that it must be ‘so right’ but that there must be something so wrong. I remember th

What would change for you if you knew that a God, The God, all the Gods, wanted nothing more than a relationship with you? What if you knew they do not require worship or for you to follow the rules others have set forward as your way to access the truth of their Being, of your Own? What freedom would that bring? What fears would arise? Where would you explore with an open heart, open mind and open arms? How would you welcome your new Friend? #spiritualhealing #universal #Gra

To feel the pain of another is to know their heart. To feel the darkness of another is to know their heart is not dark. To breathe the breath of another, is to breathe each other. Beyond the identities we choose and the language we use, is that for which words only confuse. To see through the clutter of our own creation is to see that which has created us, as they are. As we are. The breath, the pain, the light, the dark. The love. One. #Grace #oneness #Divine #connection #so

You have no idea You have no idea your desire to retreat is merely your fear of meeting yourself in another. You have no idea that your fear of another is merely your fear of intimacy with the one you’ve separated yourself from. Your avoidance of the stimuli that feeds your soul has led you to substitutions that are no substitution at all. You feel because there is no separation. There is no separation. You want there to be, though. You feel the reality will split you open an

“Empath Bullshit” That’s the Google search that brings the most people to this blog. I’ve addressed some of the bullshit that’s out there about the nature of being an empath, I try to assure folks that having the capacity to feel the emotional energies of others is real. It is real, it is purposeful, and has little to do with one’s beliefs, identification as literal, logical, psychic or spiritual. It is the most visceral expression of our interconnected nature and the presenc

Does it feel foolish to you, impossible even, that your ‘feeling too much’ isn’t that at all? Can you, even the tiniest of moments between the fear, understand that when you truly recognize what it is you’re feeling and from whence it comes, you’ll know it is the highest expression of love there is? That is what being an empath is–the highest expression of love there is. The capacity, without a word being said, to say, “I feel your pain”. Can you wrap your head, maybe even yo

I’m reading a book called Benediction by Kent Haruf. It’s one of those that I’m forcing myself to finish for reasons I can’t comprehend. It’s annoying. Damn-near all dialogue and not a single quotation mark. There’s a scene in which a preacher pisses off his congregation by suggesting that loving thine enemy and turning the cheek might be literal expressions of Jesus’ teaching and not a mere metaphorical for living peaceably. He preaches, many congregants walk out, cursing hi

It often feels impossible to describe the love contained within me. Even when I cannot give it words, it frightens people. They seem to be confused that the course of love would somehow find them beyond their beliefs or behaviors, that they would be missed or their cry for help would be unheard, and that kind of love would just appear, even unbidden. It courses through every fiber of my being, slips from the pores into the spaces between grains of sand, dances on the wind, dr

They are more than mournable bodies whether disappeared or reinvented in a pimp’s image, no less an image of God, in case you thought otherwise. Children of blood and bone, certainly; but beyond the skin they are or were in, they breathe fire and thread sinew. Sometimes, dripping it between the grains of sand they are buried in. They carry their own heartbeats and that of another generation, they sing unto themselves and sisters far into the beyond that is beyond. Birthing wh

May the grief-stricken be touched with the tenderest kiss. May the hunger for hubris be starved as love is heard. May mercy rise. May the light of beauty shine in the darkest corners. May hate give way to forgiving Grace. May mercy rise. May pain and fear be supplanted by communion. May pride and prejudice succumb to peace. May mercy rise. May the voiceless sing and open the way. May the hardened crack under their flood of love. May mercy rise. May beauty speak the heart of a

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

Mercy. noun 1. compassion or forgiveness shown toward someone whom it is within one’s power to punish or harm. or: a blessing that is an act of divine favor or compassion We most often associate Mercy with someone else. I suggest that we show ourselves a little mercy. And give ourselves a little Merci. Mercy and thanks for not having it all figured out; for feeling ungraceful and ungrace-filled; for floundering; for all the goodness that we know is there but can’t feel it i