You wander down a street in a foreign town, aimlessly. It's a bright, hot morning and the street feels lazy, barely awake to face the day of chores and business, romance and tourists. You hear the creak of a door and see it opening across the road. A massive black dog almost the size of… Continue reading Little shop of Fears
Tag: 6minutes
Sleep with love
Yesterday a lady, an esoteric practitioner told me a story about a client who hadn’t been able to sleep for several nights after one session with her. As if some part of the person had become awake and didn't want to fall asleep again. It felt like a horror story to me.How can one function… Continue reading Sleep with love
To feel safe
Stay safe. One of the most cruel wishes ever invented for the human soul.Stay safe. Don't go there, don't do that, don't say that, don't wear that, don't touch that, don't have sex, don't eat that. Don't live. Just don't. Stay safe.Safe from what?From change! From the unpleasant possibilities! The inconveniences of illness, heartbreak, misunderstanding,… Continue reading To feel safe
Limits of Love
Ever since I wrote about Love, I’ve considered the subject to be unyielding, limitless and infinite. I’ve felt it in the pebbles on the shore, in the relentless rush of a summer highway, in the songful forest breeze and in a bustling market full of fresh berries and hopeful tradesmen. Love is everywhere. Everything that… Continue reading Limits of Love
It is our light
The new moon just passed, reminding me of the practise I adopted a few months ago. One thought, one action, one moon. Little by little, this practice has changed my life with each cycle. It's quite simple. At the first week of the actual moon cycle – not a euphemism for my period – I… Continue reading It is our light
Forgiven
She stepped up to the podium. The woman who had agreed to dance my dance. To mirror my truth and help me see myself more clearly. She took a breath, a bow. Her hands moved... then her head. Her body tensed. I cringed. Do you remember this song Killing Me Softly by Roberta Flack? Strumming my… Continue reading Forgiven
Origins of anger (two)
Before you continue, read this part first. Standing in a simple whitewashed chapel, I have the body of a teenage girl. Fourteen, perhaps fifteen. I feel (or she feels) cornered, contained, humiliated. Tears are streaming down our face as we clench in mad rage. It’s not fair! The scream echoes in our head as the… Continue reading Origins of anger (two)
Well of Peace 