If this is true, perhaps INSTABILITY can be summed up as the inability to release attachment to the changes taking place.

I think we have this idea that just like “happiness”, “stability” is this type of “destination-emotion” that we somehow eventually arrive at. Instead, it seems more moment to moment. And in that moment of conscious choice to adapt, or release our grasp of what we know, we find stability. It’s almost like the balance that exists between steps- the innate and subconscious release of one footing to the next.

Raw, Dirty, Beautiful

photo 2 (1)I like bendable things. The things that bend and stretch and start out one color but due to dirt or food or both turn into something else completely in your hands-kinda like putty. I remember as a kid opening the little egg-shaped container and rolling it around the kitchen table, stamping the newspaper and then stamping my hand with backwards letters.

We seem to have it all skewed. We seem to think so often that those parts of our lives, the ones we would rather recreate into a whole new story with different characters, are what separates us from others. In truth, I think its what binds us- the raw, the dirty and the beautiful. Maybe its even in this sequence that we begin to articulate and integrate these moments- at first feeling the rawness, then the shame or discomfort, only to be followed by the allowing and the intangible beauty of seeing something so out of place, fit perfectly together with our own evolution.

I like to look for these memories now. The ones that hide out like cunning children avoiding punishment in the alcoves of our minds. I like to see them emerge from the darkness, mud on their tiny faces and stolen joy in their hands clasped tight behind their backs. I just invite them. Nothing more, than invite them with no other agenda to come out. It’s in this space of agendaless authenticity that these little ones begin to speak with their eyes, and in moment-transform.


photo 4-1To know and be known.  This life—a falling in love with oneself. Deeper deeper deeper. We are mirror images of others, but only in so much to know ourselves more fully. To accept in another—ourselves, we must forgive, as to ask nothing different from the past. We must. Because it is ourselves in this moment we are really allowing.  We are asked, “What would Love say?” and that is truth. Truth is not heard, but felt. We must feel and muster the courage to siphon truth from our bellies and up to our throats. We must allow it to dance onto our tongue and drip from our lips before our mind lassos it up with all the other “is”’s and it goes from crystal to mud. From flame to ashes. For the mind, is the graveyard of wisdom. True wisdom, comes from the gristmill of inner knowing and courage. It waits patiently at the your doorstep for you to arrive home and somehow, always feels like a surprise visit from an old friend.  Wisdom, like water, moves drop by drop, softly shaping the calcified mind into the infinite it always was.