Writing

Writing gives us back our voice
When our tongue has been sold
Into service of society
Into service of moral constructs
And family agreements
Writing
In its silent flow
In its secret meditation
Threads a delving line
Attaching us to
Deepest layers of the moment
Untangling thought locks
Opening perception doors
Drawing out our Truth

Golden Garden

Golden Garden
A 3hr live stage body paint at QQW
Model: Vanessa Archer
Photographer: Dolly Rocket

Light

So grateful to remember
To be able to call to my fractious mind
The re-memberance
Of You,
Of the exquisite golden brilliance;
Your love.

Grateful to patch together
the sensation of my fear of unworthiness
and it's own irrelevence

Grateful to remember your light
Your Love
Creating
Everything I am
Everything I can know
Everything I can conceive



re me
re ember

Thank You

Thank you for your Beautiful Grace
The patient loving insistence
Of the delicate call to be
Filled with
Your Heart
Your Light
Your Grace.

My love
Sings to you
Dances you
Gratefully floods
Washing away
Who I was
In my humble loving.

Self ♥ Papaji's Poem Performed by Satyashanti

Gayatri Mantra Tina Malia

Oṃ bhūr bhuvaḥ svaḥtát savitúr váreṇyaṃbhárgo devásya dhīmahidhíyo yó naḥ pracodáyāt
Oṃ bhūr bhuvaḥ svaḥtát savitúr váreṇyaṃbhárgo devásya dhīmahidhíyo yó naḥ pracodáyāt
Oṃ bhūr bhuvaḥ svaḥtát savitúr váreṇyaṃbhárgo devásya dhīmahidhíyo yó naḥ pracodáyāt
Oṃ bhūr bhuvaḥ svaḥtát savitúr váreṇyaṃbhárgo devásya dhīmahidhíyo yó naḥ pracodáyāt

Let us honor the unity of Divine Spirit
that pervades all realms of existance:
the earth, the atmosphere and the heavens.

May That most brilliant Divine Light
protect us, sustain us
and illuminate our consciousness

that we might realize
our inherent goodness,
our inborn divinity
and our unity with All That Is.

By this knowledge may our actions be inspired

Vedic Sanskrit .

When I was that age
I was longing so hard
Straining to have fun
To reach out
to touch
and be touched
Yearning to be witnessed
and explored
To be found and catapulted
Into the honey sweet piquant peak
 of some sunrise ecstasy

I see their lives
flooded with opportunity
awash with beauty
and wonder if they are
 as There
as every ingredient invites them to be?
Or are they where I was?

If I stepped in now,
off my quiet shore,
Solid in my love,
In through the froth and playfulness
Could I dive in to that sunrise
Or would I be waiting, all over again,
to be swept?

Socks

Life ticks over in mundane ways
The ever repeating arguments
That take up half the day
The piles of things, wrappers, washing
laying in the way of peace;
Of pause without thought

Is a mother
Always twice the age
Of every other?
I see two years here, four there, feel ancient.

Actually ancient sounds good
Feels clean, honest, honed and wisdom worthy.

I am crumpled laundry faded with dust