For you, John I open up slowly, like a flower unfurling her petals Letting go of the fear of being seen, relaxing into the Sweet cascade of your fingers skimming over each Region
For you, J I open up slowly, like a flower unfurling her petals letting go of the fear of being seen, relaxing into the sweet cascade of your fingers skimming over each region
fertile ground Pregnant with poetry I stand on this fertile ground waiting, breathing down into my abdomen my breath nourishing that which is growing within me The budding rose grows solid in
The eve of 30 Tomorrow is your 30th birthday. You will celebrate at home, surrounded by the love of your brothers, mom, and dad, in a time of blooming water lilies, red maple saplings,
Melanie's birthday retreat changing like all things To my dearest friends, Each of whom I have invited to Delight in the towering trees Of a mariposa spring Our time together is canceled for
practice critical thinking What does the practice look like if critical thinking is built into the beginning of every dharma talk before the refuges, before the four noble truths What if nothing is
fuck the practice Today, throw a tantrum, rage at every Fucking thing you hate Let the axe fall hard into the ground, Fuck you fuck this fuck everything Allow yourself to feel everything.
critical thinking [raw] What does the practice look like if critical thinking is built into the beginning of every dharma talk? Is inserted before the four noble truths as the first and most
Severing roots Accessing the power in my body swinging the axe, letting the weight of the blade sing in my hands, I am but the metal's vessel The axe slices
Axe My body sings with power heat, sex, lustful for destruction, taking The axe arcs through the air, from the ground, past my left shoulder, singhing the air with the force
fireglow Little fireglow bathed in the rainbow light of the sun Welcome to your new home May you be happy and safe here able to plant your roots down firmly and
if you were to ask again... thoughts on wednesday's resiliency training thank you very much for your question, johanna for including your own mind and body experience in the possibility of human experience I
Can I share this? the poet is to write without fear to release her words into the wild knowing they are not just hers I do not wish to hoard my truth I want
pointing at the moon Fuck the moon Fuck pointing at the moon I’m tired of looking at things outside myself pretending That they are a way out No, the way out is to
belief hey, I am happy to connect but I don't know if there is a bone in my body that can commit to anything outside of showing up I
Poet I am a poet The horoscopes already read this fortune but I protested in my unconscious No, give me something more prestigious, more colorful more of service No, god roared
If you were to speak of me again... I have a client, so broken by her own hatred that she emerges glowing in the summer light mind on fire lit by rage Everything she loves is broken. Ambition,
acts of love From Melanie to Joann: today was an act of love, my dear feeling caught in my own dark well of sorrow, angry, processing I carried myself to this little zoom
fuck you, demons I am terrified of you, J Terrified that in your company I will be so fucking bored Fall asleep during your stories Have no delight, no joy, no play I
10000 words of hatred I wrote 10000 words of hatred, broke everything I love, including practice, my family, you, every person, every thing broke them with hate, broke them so I never wanted to see them again to see myself again
Rebirth Hands in dirt like a newborn taking its first breaths in this is air this is sun this is water Squishing my palms into the earth, a worm wriggles back
Fuck you, world I have to say, I am fucking angry at the state of the world. People of plenty, why are you polluting the oceans, consuming resources like crazy, acting as if
Red maple I am scared to lose the sweet Harmony of father and daughter hands in the soil The damp earth and dark clay Saying all that needs saying I’m sorry
Almond trees The almond trees on the slopes in Palestine are flowering pink after a long winter rest I saw them for one fleeting afternoon, basking in the embrace of a dear
meditation on rainbows on balance and letting go Sometimes we must let go of what brings us wonder and ease to allow us to breathe and to enjoy anew. Imagine if a rainbow
