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The Law of Cycles
The third law in living rhythm Not all days bloom.Some arrive to empty the sky,to teach the body how to wait,to fold us into restso that becoming may continue underground. Cycles do not apologise for turning.They do not explain the rainor justify the fall of leaves.They simply turn.As do we. You are not meant to…
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The Law of Presence
The second law in living rhythm There is a fullness that only exists here,in this unrepeatable moment.The scent in the air,the weight of your hand,the silence between sounds,it cannot be captured later. Presence asks for noticing.A shift in light.A pause in thought.The way breath touches the inside of your chest. To be present is not…
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The Law of Flow
The first law in living rhythm Nothing forced ever thrives.The river moves without needing to announce its direction.It curves. It deepens. It waits.And still, it reaches everywhere it was meant to. There is a movement that happenswhen you stop trying to hold the world still.When you loosen your gripon what must happenand let life arrive…
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In and Up
When the Spiral Pulls You In and Up There comes a timenot marked by clocks,but by the noise between thoughts. A time when the skin feels foreign,and the light too sharp,and the body craves only blankets and sky. Almost like lost,in the mid-molting, some feathers falling, others formingin the sacred ache of becoming. The new…
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After the Spiral
Reflections after latest meditations led by Daniel Raphael Something fell away again.Not broken, just shed.Like an old skin that had loved me once,but no longer fit. This was another healing.This was another remembering. Through mirrors I hadn’t touched before,through frequencies I didn’t know I could hear,I was brought back to my original settings.My heart wide…
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Late Summer
Love letter to my sisters This is the seasonwhen the soil is still warmand the fruit has sweetened. A time not to sow, but to reap,to sip the morning cupand know:you’ve done well. The children are walking their own paths now,faces full of your lessons.The house breathes a little quieter.The Sundays come softer. You feel…
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The Morning We Choose
Wake upWith sunlight on your cheekAnd no rush in your breath. Before the mind remembers the world,Set it gently-On beauty.On kindness.On the soft miracle of being here. Stretch your bodyLike trees waking to spring.Drink water like the Earth after drought.Add a pinch of salt.A whisper of minerals.A kindness to your cells. Place one hand on…
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A Tangle of Stars
I am a walking chaos-something betweena breath and a storm.A hymn hummed backwardsin the tongue of stars.I see patternswhere others see noise,numbers dancing in cracked pavements,meaning folded into a crow’s wingor the flick of a curtain. Nothing in lines.I move in spirals,like roots that choose darkness,like water that forgets straightnessand finds its own way. No…
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To the Young Woman
We are the soft strength behind mornings.We rise not just to tasks,but to life itself–with days folded in our palmsand worlds balanced on our shoulders. We are creators- of moments, of beauty,of nourishment, of laughter.We carry time with grace,and give without counting. Our bodies are temples of rhythm,breathing with the sky, rooted in the Earth.We glow…
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To Still the Mind
and Nourish Its Light There is a mind that rushes like a stream after winter,and a mind that waits like a leaf in the morning hush.Both are yours.And you may choose, each day, which to become. We speak often of strength-but forget that clarity is its quiet sibling.The mind was not made to carry noise,but…
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DAISY ELEMENTAL 