It begins by not beginning at all.

Some birthlessness. Some grace has always been glowing.

Do you remember? Don’t fret if you can’t. She does. And She remembers you, always.

There used to be prayers of connection every morning. People would go, alone, to the waters, to the trees, to stand in the sunlight, to be awed in the sky, to recall the vivid feeling of being alive and the teamwork that makes that happen. This might seem required to cultures of a more indigenous origin, that is, those that live close to Earth (so close we largely don’t understand), but it isn’t. It’s far from it. Look closer. Do you see that pearl of teardrop getting ready to leap from a young woman’s poignant eye? Do you see the heroic smile of that elder man over there, basking in solar benediction? Do you see the glee ignited in the children when their hands touch the soft, mercurial skin of the water? It’s because of joy, the child of love, the child of connection, that morning is swept up in thanksgiving…

This is a feeling faith, a deep belief in the power of the Heart to pour truth into our every wish, anointing it with the virtue of adventure. And what we call the body which holds this heart? No, body is a word that has grown tired and tattered. As cliché as it may be, temple comes much closer. If we could see this ‘body’ with the eye of Spirit we would know in an instant what I’m on about. We would see rivers of light, weaving a holistic symphony of consciousness and matter in perpetual love-making, the Heart would be keeping rhythm, banging the drum with the most happy jubilance, shooting out infinitely-spontaneous rays of incandescence to hundreds even thousands of people (even more!) at ONCE; to trees, birds, cars, music, planets, galaxies—we would see that whatever the Heart considers it becomes, and that means also galaxies and universe! The Heart would be an endless morphing into all these cosmic shapes and we would (Ah!) understand one of the greatest mysteries of human beingness: that being that we do understand! There would be layers upon energetic layers surrounding and expanding the body, both within and without, and these wouldn’t be hardened with skin as their surface, but wavy with colour and luminosity. We’d gasp seeing that there is no clear lines between them; that we are profoundly porous and open—a continuum. Suddenly, a blue beam, singing with a female voice a melodious opera of love, would shoot down from somewhere up high and smack our ‘body’, charging it, spinning chakras, oozing light-veins with electric feeling. That was Venus; mother-sucking, Venus!!!

Feel of it this way, do you remember as a kid when we’d have those games when a gift was wrapped in several layers and you had to get through them to get to the present? We’re like that gift and the world is us. All it wants to do is reveal the gift that we are. Especially adverse, shitty situations. Those are the most passionate to see what’s inside of you.

“if you don’t become the ocean, you’ll be seasick every day” leonard cohen

The funny thing about mystery is that the moment you ask the question, ‘what is it?’, if you’re quiet enough, you’ll hear a childish giggle somewhere unseen. That’s the giggle of mystery itself, profusely enjoying this wondrous game of hide and seek.

The Earth is a worth wizard.

Dancing is one of the surest ways to disappear. Did you know disappearing is an essential daily vitamin? That’s when the ocean takes over.

He reaches out a wondering finger, strikes a key on the piano, and worlds wake up inside of him. 

don’t go anywhere, please, please, please weeps the Heart. Don’t stray in knowing, put down those books, and come inside yourself, and make love.

The first day of school for every child should begin like this: and now we will begin an adventure that will last your lifetime—discovering what we really are. 

Did you notice, how everything, from the tip of my toes to the gaseous snot of that star’s nose, just got unified?

Wonder is the prayer.

The city is in desperate need to be tickled. 

We surrendered so much to each other, in the hymn of sacred sex, that I could no longer tell the difference between our heartbeats. And it wasn’t the puff of marijuana I’d had before, it was the spirals of beauty that sprung out of her opening secret door, flooding me like a tsunami, blowing me over. Sighs were the only thing possible and the free-flow of feeling words, playful eyes, the bloom of heart-made kisses. Rainbows flowered on her chest and woman became a sheer force of love and I knew beauty as the greatest truth.

There is only one way out of the madness of conflict, division and insane separation from the natural world that has wreaked such havoc on our species: ONE…We convinced ourselves that the world, Earth, Her, was something to fear, get beyond, remove ourselves from, conquer…perhaps it was a comet smashing into the Earth 11 000 years ago that collectively traumatized us. Perhaps it was a small faction of madmen who wanted to denigrate women. Maybe it was sinister aliens. Don’t really matter. What matters is we were deceived. And it’s time to turn around, peer all around us, at everything, silently, and listen. Each day every day. Wait. Wait. Wait. Do you hear it? The sound of frantically running footsteps, the weeping joy of love-laden laughter, a lovely melody of a mating call as if sung by a band of angels and cherubs? That’s the soul of the Mother, coming for us…Love is coming for us…

It’s all woven together, from the tip of the feather to the cosmic weather. This consciousness is a wisdom-waking-limit-breaking-gloom-forsaking-play-making force-fielding-eternity-wielding thing-song-ju-ju that wants to make babies with every cell of your light-loaded multidimensional bliss-body. What the heaven are you waiting for??