People often ask why I like the East coast so much more than the West coast where I grew up, and I would have to say that experiencing the seasons is one of the things I love best of all.
Living in New England for the past 30 years has attuned me to the rhythm of life in a way I had never understood before, and learning to enjoy each season for its unique blessings and challenges, is a good way to create harmony between us and the natural world.
Being part of the changing circle of creation, forces us out of our everydayness into something flowing and alive. Just when we have reached our limit of cold winter days, the warm tendrils of Spring make their way across the land into our hearts, whispering softly of its promised arrival.
Like the finest of connoisseurs, I can feel it coming from miles away. Waking up from our long slumber, siblings to the trees, bodies stretching up towards the sun, we arrive, rejoicing in our eternal story.
Experiencing both moments of hardship and joy, brought to us on the winds of each new season, strengthens our resolve to live fully and with gratitude, knowing underneath the fertile soil are the miraculous stirrings of new beginnings, wonders never cease.
Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall; each an opportunity to celebrate the gifts from Mother Earth, and to release any lingering shadows held far too long, inspiring healing choices of forgiveness and love.
The symphony of birds outside my window every morning sing to me of dreams created during long winter nights. Heralding its arrival, robins sent out as tiny ambassadors announce the brightness of a new day.
Every season different, from beginning to end, renews our spirit, offering us a chance to grow and adjust our path. Though the days of time move in a continuous circle, our footsteps, if we desire, never having to be the same.
Spring is in full bloom here in New England, and has been for a couple of weeks. The tulips and daffodils are lovely and already the magnolia blossoms are losing their petals, yet their sweet fragrance fills the air.
A dogwood tree in my front yard has started flowering, and each day on my walk I see something wondrous. Soon baby geese will paddle gently behind their parents on the lake, and I will take great pleasure in spying bunnies nibbling on clover during my morning walk.
Already the young crows are exploring, their voices loud overhead as they call to each other through the trees; under the fullness of the moon I hear the frogs sing across the water, and just today I saw my first butterfly, it’s wings softly painted white.
The arrival of this particular Spring has gently nudged me out from under the umbrella of melancholy I have long sheltered beneath, and into the cleansing rain of a new season.
“Life is brief and very fragile, do that which makes you happy,” is a quote I saved as a teenager. I made it into a collage which I brought with me when I moved here from California over 3 decades ago. I have it hung in my room as a daily reminder.
Despite my uncertainty in the unknown future, I am determined to remain open to all the beautiful possibilities life has to offer. The magic of each season holds a special message for everyone of us, if only we are willing to listen.
Every day without fail, my eyes drift open into the early darkness of morning light and I immediately reach into the data base of my mind to remember what day it is; like a revolving door it returns without fail, the liminal space in time, where in that portal of nothingness, weightless in the unknowing, I am completely disconnected from the outside world, even from my own physicality, without substance or conscious intent. It is that one vibrant moment where I am aware of my soul, with no beginning or end.
One minute I am floating along in my river of dreams and the next tossed abruptly awake into the waters of reality. How far have I drifted from shore, no longer tethered by the measure of time. Until I know what day it is, I remain on the threshold of the in between, without need or purpose.
I have been unemployed since the pandemic began almost a year ago. It took many years of struggle to dig myself out of financial trauma, and mostly by working jobs I greatly disliked. Finally I had reached a place of security with my children’s program, something that was meaningful, built out of love, and all my own. They say it takes several years of opening your business before it becomes lucrative, and for me I was heading into my 4th one when it all came crashing down. I think if I were comfortably retired right now I wouldn’t mind the unknowing, but because I am *shamefully* unemployed I carry a simmering pot of angst in almost everything I do. I manage to escape it for the most part by tucking it away into the box of avoidance, but it’s in that exact moment of wakefulness that I must face every day, the decision to leave the sanctuary of my spirit and step back into my human need for physical, mental, and emotional security.
It turns out it really doesn’t matter what day it is, because I have very few obligations in life. If it weren’t for creating my blog/magazine, and my new idea to become a visual storyteller by taking up photography, I would have nothing in place for the future, and even in this current endeavor my chances for financial security are based on my wish to connect with a gigantic amount of people who will hopefully like me enough to follow. It’s all a numbers game whether my family will thrive or not, but I have faith in my ability to survive and so I move forward.
The other day I needed cash for some treasures I found on Marketplace. After leaving the ATM I drove out of the parking lot, cozy in my car with it’s special deluxe seat warmers. As I approached the red light, I saw a woman standing on the medium next to where I would be waiting for the light to change. It was only in the upper 20’s, and she was bundled from head to foot with her jacket collar raised to cover her face like a mask, she stood holding a cardboard sign I couldn’t read, shivering on her small patch of concrete. I cautioned myself as I inched forward; don’t look at her, you are not giving her money, what if she has Covid, neither of you are wearing a mask, it’s not safe, you can help someone else another time, you are unemployed…and so on. Mind you all this was happening in the blink of an eye, because I was quickly next to her before I even finished my silent list of why I could not possibly do anything.
Suddenly another voice rose up inside, and not from my place of lack, my simmering angst, or my fear of the plague. This voice was the familiar one I wake up to every morning, the one that keeps me company while I sift through my thoughts of what day of the week it is. The voice that is always there under the surface of my outside self, the voice of my spirit, heart, and soul.
Help her, it said, you proclaim to the world to follow the path of beauty, you know what it means to be scared and alone, you understand desperation, and grief. There is no separation, this woman is you.
I sat there in the crossroads and made my decision. With haste to do all this before the light changed, I reached into my purse, grabbed one of the bills and like a slapstick comedy routine I pressed the lever of my window with the intent to lower it only enough to push the money through. In my clumsiness the window rose up smashing my wrist, and then all the way back down, leaving me exposed to the elements as well as any possible germs. Simultaneously, I called to her, my 20 dollar bill fluttering in the wind while my window rose up and down, up and down. She mumbled something behind her jacket scarf, her eyes crinkling in the corners with age, smiling in delight. With one last attempt to control my wayward window I wished her luck and sped away.
I am sharing this not as a way to expand myself in your eyes, but to express my very real struggle in that turning point to overcome my own fears, and to live by love. The money meant nothing to me as I was able to see it for what it was, an exchange of energy. I had told myself to not even look at her, but suddenly I was looking into her very soul, and she into mine.
I thought about her later and wondered if she had a place to sleep that was warm and safe. I want to make a difference in this world and hope to do so by my artistic expression. Maybe I can turn this blog/magazine into something more, perhaps as a way to create change for all people who don’t have a place to live, medical care, or enough food to eat. We all deserve it, not because one person is better than another, or our skin is a particular color, or even because we express our sexuality or gender in a particular way, but just because it’s a basic human right.
I think it’s time for us to check into our souls and make choices that are not based on our projected ideas of morality, politics or religion, but on the one undeniable truth. We are all connected as living human beings, and are here for one purpose only, to exchange love. The world is changing, nothing can stay the same, which is a good thing since much of what we know was born out of ignorance and fear.
This time, I am hoping Love wins. So cast aside your judgement, for it all begins with you.
I have decided to become a professional photographer so I can better develop my blog/magazine; it seems like a natural progression to enhance my words by adding photos. Even though my phone’s camera works very well, it is not satisfying my artistic vision, especially when it comes to taking pictures of wildlife and nature.
I see stories everywhere I go, some that I would dearly love to unravel through the eye of my lens, and the words of my interpretation.
The idea of leaving for the day with my camera-bag slung over my shoulder, to wander the forests, rivers, fields, and trails of all the beautiful places I love to visit; sounds like an adventurous dream to me. I would also enjoy taking photos of old buildings, gardens, design ideas, and to capture candid snapshots of daily life.
Just yesterday while on my neighborhood walk, an elder man was carefully making his way up the street, pushing a small shopping cart with a few grocery bags. Appearing out of nowhere, several miles in any direction from a store, there he was walking right past me. Dressed in winter-wear from head to toe, elegant in his movements, he seemed to step out of a scene from another place in time. He had stopped to fuss with his bags, and as I drew near we both smiled and greeted one another. I was filled with curiosity and wanted to ask him so many questions, like…was walking to the grocery store something he did often… how much further did he have to go…does he have a wife waiting at home ready to help unpack their supplies…or did he live alone with his cat…how pray tell, has he been holding up during these difficult times?!
Note* Any photos I take of random people are from a distance, and do not show their face out of respect for the individual’s privacy, unless I otherwise have their permission to do something more formal.
Luckily for him I was feeling quiet and asked none of these things, although most people are charmed by my friendliness, and usually responsive to my chattiness — I was too comfortable in my solitude to say anything beyond hello. Understandingly, by his age he has lived through the after-effects of the Great Depression and several wars. Perhaps this is why I perceived a certain easy-going-travel-weariness that enveloped him like a cloud. Having already endured so much, his suffering through a pandemic, insurrection, domestic terrorists, combined with political corruption, was nothing more than a regular day in his life. In my imaginings, (because at the end of the day that’s all I had, having no real idea who he is or how he thinks) I admired his savoir faire attitude. Maybe in the future I will be the same way, unmoved by outside chaos, and no longer surprised by the fall of man.
I consider myself a visual storyteller, teacher, and inspirational writer, so I think adding photography to my repertoire is the next step. It’s hard not to be intimidated by the cost of a good camera, not to mention needing to buy a new computer that is able to handle editing programs crucial to my expanding career.
I am trying to justify spending such an exorbitant amount of money while I am currently unemployed and living off of prayers. It would be a gigantic leap of faith to believe I could become skilled in something so technical. I am an artist, so hopefully photography will come easy for me. Although I am able to self-learn, I will most likely have to take a few classes, and maybe find myself a willing mentor.
Either way, I believe it’s never too late to begin something new. I have been lost in the land of despair for so long it feels good to be inspired again with my writing and now perfecting my use of photos/videos.
When I lived in Southern California, for several years as a young adult I lived within feet of the boardwalk in Mission Beach. This was back in the early 80’s, I didn’t know it then, but those were my glory years. Too bad they were also filled with so much angst, but I still had some of the happiest and most memorable times of my life there.
My daughter and I went home to San Diego to visit my family in 2018, and it was such a joy to revisit my youth.
Back then, being a little more daring than I am now, I would get up every morning and walk to the boardwalk, coffee in one hand and roller skates in the other. Outfitted in my beach girl uniform; mini skirt, bikini, favorite Grateful Dead t-shirt, my Sony walk-man and headphones, I would lace up my skates, put on my music and fly down the boardwalk. I averaged about 60 miles a week, and would skate both day and night. I loved those times and smile in my memories to see myself navigating around bicyclists, surfer boys, scantily clad girls, skate boarders, and a myriad of other fine characters….especially because I wasn’t the greatest at stopping or going over curbs. It’s a miracle I survived.
To this day I can feel the sunshine, cool wind in my hair, and the sound of Cream, Led Zeppelin, The Doors, Eagles, Janis Joplin, Pink Floyd, and all of my favorite bands blasting in my ears. Never have I felt so free!
On quieter nights, I would walk along the boardwalk with the Pacific Ocean to one side, and the wealthy beach front owners, or those who could afford summer rentals, on the other. I loved looking in the windows (not in a creepy way) but to catch casual glimpses of people going about their daily lives. I have always been fascinated by the mysteriousness of how others live, which is one of the reasons why I like to write.
If you have ever lived at a beach in Southern California, you would know that most people tend to enjoy a life of celebration, especially on the weekends. I would see versions of this playing out everywhere, some functions private and small, others grandiose, with families and people of all ages and backgrounds. Often we would find ourselves pushing our way through a sudden crowd of keg drinking party goers spilling out onto the boardwalk, dancing to some live band tucked tightly into a corner patio. Obviously we didn’t have cell phones back then so I never really had a camera handy. Too busy making memories, but I wish I would have taken more photos.
I looked up, “How to be a Professional Photographer” which was slightly discouraging. The first thing I read was that since we all carry a phone with a built in camera, almost everyone has illusions of being a photographer. This sort of brought me down a peg or two, as I know I have an incredible amount of information to learn, but I am determined to begin my journey either way.
Like I mentioned before, I wasn’t the most creative of roller skaters. Some people could literally dance circles around me, many could skate backwards, and leap over curbs with such dexterity I would be in total awe.
Here is a local legend, filmed on the exact same boardwalk I spent years on. I love what he has to say, this video is totally worth watching.
Nonetheless, I had the most wonderful time being the best I could be. I understand there will always be amazing photographers better than me, most who have studied for years, with experiences and equipment I may never have, but I won’t let this prevent me from following my dream.
I will do it my way, and on my roller skates!
In Professional Peace, Raven
These are actually my daughter’s skates, hers are much more modern. Back in my day the stopper was in the back, which always made me feel like I was going to fall over backwards. Never did I wear a helmet, that absolutely did not go with my California beach girl outfit!
Here in New England we are having a 48-hour mini-storm, complete with ice, sleet and snow. I recently discovered that walking on icy roads, though adventurous, is not always the best idea (see my previous postfor my most recent perilous expedition). So, here I am now staying inside enjoying my hibernation. With my guardian-polar-bear-dog Skadi on mostly high alert, and my cozy wood stove, I am safe and warm.
A day in the life of Skadi, a snowstorm, and a couch
The weather is always interesting, which is one of the reasons why I love living out here. Several days ago it had warmed up to a balmy 43 degrees which turned the snow to slush and melted all of my beautiful window icicles. Everything is frozen again, but for a brief time I smelled the coming of Spring. Last night it was back down to a seasonal 19 degrees. Brrrrrrr!
Frozen-slippery-cold outside, and our firewood is almost all gone, but I still love Winter.
Several days before the storm while I was taking my walk, I found myself deep in thought; haunted reflections of my past and stressful concerns for my future ambushed all focus and I was unable to think of anything else. Immersed in a labyrinth of contemplation, I walked like I was asleep, my gaze turned inward, oblivious to everything around me.
Step, step, step…the sound of my feet hypnotized me as they hit the rough pavement.
Step, step, step…”You are going deeper and deeper, deeper and deeper” they sang
Step, step, step… I was a captive to my thoughts, unable to escape the spirals of my mind; remembering, pondering, questioning, worrying, thinking, thinking, thinking.
Step, step, step… side-tracked from one corridor to the next, I explored all the reasons why.
Step, step, step…searching hidden corners I considered every possibility.
Step, step, step…my mind is filled with corridors, spirals, and corners.
Step, step, step…I no longer remembered what I had originally been thinking about in the first place.
Step, step, step…sometimes it’s exhausting being in my head.
Out of nowhere, a beautiful streak of red cardinal flew swiftly across my path and into the trees, startling me from the deep caverns of myself and back into the vibrant presence of my surroundings. He, with his brilliant red plumage, darted by so fast that I didn’t even have a chance to formally greet him.
Females are a tan color, with an orange beak, while males are red, with a matching red beak.
If you are curious, or maybe a little superstitious like myself, you may already know that cardinals foretell good luck, most likely because seeing them is always a cheerful sight. Some people believe when meeting up with a cardinal, they are being visited from someone dear who has passed away. Because cardinals mate for life, with both recognized as caring parents, they are natural representatives for love and devotion, two of my favorite values. These loyal cardinals are also known for their lively songs, sometimes performing duets with a list of over a dozen romantic hits.
All of these fun facts rose quickly to the surface of my memories, but the main tidings I understood from this delightful messenger’s sudden appearance were unmistakably clear:
“Stop thinking, stop trying to make sense of everything, let go of needing answers, accept uncertainty, move forward, and don’t look back.”
In that fleeting speck of time, I did exactly that. I stopped thinking.
You may consider this to be a small thing, but I have been working towards this moment for years. Today a line was drawn in the snow, and the bright flash of my red-feathered friend ushered me unceremoniously over to the other side. To stop thinking means to remove the well-worn bookmark, creased and tattered from constant use, out from the recesses of my history book. I am ready to turn the page and begin the manuscript for my newest chapter.
Leaving the labyrinth of my mind means liberation from my past, with a new hope for the future.
*See if you can find the camouflaged snowman*
And so unchained at last from the endless loop of my thoughts, I was free to enjoy the rest of my walk, this time completely aware of my surroundings (which is actually a much safer way to travel) and awake to whatever came next…
…which, strangely enough, happened to be several versions of snow-people, my loud talking crow friends, and a somewhat muddy white chicken crossing the road.
A lot can happen on a 3 mile walk!
It’s a little blurry, but here it is!
Citizens of the snow
Here are a few of my crow-friends, eating the roasted-unsalted peanuts I brought for them as a treat.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
I have no answer for you, I told you, I stopped thinking.
Today is watering-my-house-plants-day, which is something I do once a week when I know I will be home alone. It’s a dedicated time that I set aside specifically for their care. Tending to my plants has slowly evolved over the years from being a basic chore to a sacred ritual that I find very calming.
Being surrounded by my plants brings me such happiness; they are my ever flourishing reminders to the beauty of nature.
I believe creating rituals that are significant to you, will strengthen your ‘soul-er system,’ by opening up pathways between your body, mind, and heart. This holistic perspective will give you the clarity to live a life that is more genuine, purposeful, and truer to your inner convictions.
Traditionally, many rituals are practiced by performing a meaningful course of actions, with the intent to honor and/or connect with the divine. However, rituals don’t always have to be elaborate in order to be authentic: you can easily take a simple routine such as making your morning meal and turn it into a ceremony of gratitude, just by adding purpose and higher intention to your actions.
My leafy pals are my daily companions, each with a different personality, energy, and personal story. For instance, I found my giant Fern on the side of the road while on a walk last Summer. Another time while driving I saw a person about to place this full grown Spider plant on the curb. I quickly pulled over and they handed it right to me.
My large aloe, and pink geraniums were freely given to me by a generous gardener two summers ago. She carefully dug them up from the ground and I brought them home wrapped in a blanket, dirt and all. They are now potted so I can bring them outside during the warmth of summer, then back in for the cooler months.
These origin stories are only a small part of what I see as I water each one: they are also reminders of who I was when they first arrived and who I have now become in the present. Watching my plant friends evolve through the changing seasons has been a helpful way for me to measure my own personal growth.
Recently, my potted geraniums have begun flowering, which is amazing since we are in the coldest part of winter; they are very pretty against the backdrop of ice and snow.
Establishing rituals can support one’s belief in the divine, and manifest the possibility that we are part of something magnificent and holy. By our very actions we become active participants in beauty.
Watching my plants grow in size and seeing their newly sprouted leaves is so rewarding. Some of my favorite plants bloom throughout the year: delicate little whites, tubular fuchsias, purples, and rosy pinks, all blessings of joy to brighten my world; I have several heirloom varieties of scented geraniums: lemon, apricot, nutmeg, lime, and orange, along with my organic herbs: rosemary, oregano, and lavender, all delightfully fragrant and pleasing to the senses. I also have the added joy of caring for my friend’s Patchouli plant while she is away being a ‘traveling nurse hero’ during this pandemic.
I find the ancient custom of rituals found in different religions and cultures to be fascinating, which is why I follow my own. I have learned in my quest for emotional healing that rituals can help reduce anxiety, just by the weight of comfort and stability they provide by performing familiar steps. Rituals offer up a sense of spiritual continuity which by its very nature is a reminder of peace.
My three eldest are trees, two Ficus, and a Norfolk Pine, all standing over 6 feet tall. We have known each other now for more than a decade. They have been my non-judgmental, supporting witnesses during significant times in my life, such as raising my children, divorce, financial struggles, romance, loss, and of course everything else woven in between.
Many leaves have since fallen, and dried branches broken off, yet we continue to thrive and reach for the sun.
I know my plants are happy to be here and I sincerely believe they love when I compliment and praise their beauty. I am also certain we have the same taste in music.
Prayer, walking, cleaning your house, building a fire, preparing meals, bathing, making a cup of tea, writing, exercise, art, gardening, can all be forms of rituals if you want them to be. The key is to stay mindfully focused, step by step, and to engage your entire self in the process;body, mind, heart and soul.
In Ritualistic Peace, May we Walk in Beauty, Raven
“A ritual is the enactment of a myth. And, by participating in the ritual, you are participating in the myth. And since myth is a projection of the depth wisdom of the psyche, by participating in a ritual, participating in the myth, you are being, as it were, put in accord with that wisdom, which is the wisdom that is inherent within you anyhow. Your consciousness is being re-minded of the wisdom of your own life. I think ritual is terribly important.”
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We all wear changing cloaks as we walk through life, protecting us from what is not comfortable, hiding vulnerabilities, while also expressing the beauty of how we want to be seen. Only when we are able to stand before friends and loved ones, even our perceived enemies, uncovered without armor, do we reflect the truth of what really lies within.
Trees have always been sacred to me. Something about their graceful strength fills my heart with a sense of eternity. Many times have I smoothed my hand over the rough bark just to feel the vibration of their songs echo through my soul.
Winter is here, and I am happy to hibernate for as long as I can while still enjoying the great outdoors. I love this time of quiet solitude, when most people are hidden away in their homes. I try to walk every day, not just for the health of my body, but to be refreshed by the beauty of nature. I have several trees I stop to visit with along the way. They tell me how nice it is to trust the rhythm of our earth, and how tranquil it is to feel the gentle scrolling of passing time, from the earliest of morning rays, into the darkness of setting night.
When I moved here to New England, a lifetime ago, it was in late Autumn. The trees that had been so lush when I visited one summer as a teen, now stood naked and unadorned. Coming from Southern California, I was unused to seeing trees without leaves, and in their starkness I felt such loss.
A wise friend of mine who has been my spiritual mentor for several decades helped me to see through different eyes. I will always remember the comfort of her words;
This is when they are most beautiful. Each tree stripped down to bare bones, no longer hiding behind a cloak of leaves, revealing their soul essence.
Seeing them this way now brings me such joy. I appreciate my winter walks so much more for being able to view their divinity from my new perspective. I count myself lucky for each and every moment that I get to spend in their healing presence.
As I saunter through neighborhood streets, and forests far and wide, trees of every size surround me wherever I go. The lines and curves of each branch outline my path, creating sculptures against the sky. I may not always know their names, but they are my dearest companions.
With Spring still many miles up the road, and then suddenly just around the corner, I will be ready when it arrives to enjoy one of my favorite sights: newly sprouted leaves, vivid and bright, magically coloring the canvas of our world. No matter how many times I witness the blooming of creation, I am amazed how miraculous the birth of a leaf can be.
Life constantly gives us a chance to clothe ourselves in something brand new, opening our eyes and waking us up to possibilities. Like the trees we are able to shed what no longer brings substance. Gazing inward, we let go and allow the ever flowing beauty of transformation to begin. Only in the coldness of winter, with our roots digging deep into the earth, are we able to feel the warmth of the sun gently nudging us awake.
Having lost my leaves before the solstice, I will be ready when the light of spring returns to clothe myself once again into something beautifully my own. Vulnerable, yet protected in my bareness, I am grateful for this time of drowsy slumber, knowing my new leafy cloak will fully express the sacredness of all that I have grown into, and will also soon become.
Trusting, I lift my branches high up to the sun, confident my new leaves will symbolize everything that is right and perfect for me.
In Beauty May We Grow~ Raven
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Communication is everything in this world. Nothing would survive without it; families, businesses, relationships, peace, wars, are all forged by what we express, or don’t express to each other. Even our amazing cells speak to one another. It’s incredible to realize our bodies are made up of billions of conversations going on behind the scenes. We truly are a miracle!
Communicating not just our thoughts, but our feelings can sometimes be difficult. Back in the day, people weren’t always encouraged to reveal themselves emotionally, especially if you were male. This led to a number of unhealthy family dynamics, since these very same boys grew up to be our fathers. A woman’s opinion was neither valued nor considered for much of history, and children were expected to be seen and not heard.
Thankfully there has been a shift in our world, and slowly many of these toxic beliefs have fallen to the wayside. Whoever you are, the ability to fully express what is in your mind and heart is powerful on an individual basis, and a crucial component for any healthy relationship.
When I was a little girl of 5 years old, I used to complain of tummy aches. My mother took me to the doctor where we learned I had the beginning symptoms of an ulcer. Throughout my life, starting at a very young age, I internalized my stress. I had no idea what to even name my feelings, let alone how to articulate them.
Being able to resolve a personal conflict is a skill I continually strive to master. I have learned that if I can’t say certain things out loud, at least I can write them down, or show them through music. I have come to a certain awareness in regards to my health and communication. I believe some physical ailments occur from unresolved emotional issues, anxiety, and stress. Because of my belief in Holistic Health *(I wrote a whole page about it, see menu)*I do my best to be introspectively mindful, and to speak up when I need to, so that I may clear my energy and return back to my natural state of happiness.
I think it’s fair to say if you are unable to comfortably communicate with someone because you do not feel emotionally safe with them, then it’s okay to remain quiet. Your words are a gift, and if there is a loss of trust, then nothing more needs to be said, until, or unless you feel otherwise.
Communication can be achieved in many ways, it doesn’t always have to be through words. On a deep level, our spirits commune to each other without us ever being aware. Prayer can be just as effective whether spoken out loud, or quietly felt from within. Even our intentions speak volumes. Interestingly, there are some highly sensitive individuals called Empaths, who have a keen ability to sense what people around them are thinking and feeling. So if you are close to someone like this, then even your silence won’t matter.
In any partnership, friendly or romantic, communicating your thoughts and feelings in a healthy manner are the building blocks to a strong foundation. Purposeful, clear, kind, intimate, and consistent discourse can strengthen bonds and make for a closer connection. If you have love in your heart, then share it. If you are upset, frustrated, thankful, angry, happy, or need to voice something, then just do it. Nothing can be resolved or improved until you bring it forth into the light. Be honest, numbing yourself from your feelings only creates more pain.
Speaking your truth, asking questions, reaching out for help, and expressing from your heart, are essential to your well-being. Your life story is made better by your ability to share it with others. So in whatever way, shape, or form that works best for you, it’s time to express yourself.
In Peace, Raven
If you have other songs related to this topic, feel free to share! Believe me, I could have filled up this whole post, but I would love to hear from you.
And it’s whispered that soon, if we all call the tune Then the piper will lead us to reason And a new day will dawn for those who stand long And the forests will echo with laughter
Led Zeppelin, Stairway to Heaven
The year has come to a close. Everyone is tired, and grieving for all that has been lost. Led Zeppelin has said that Stairway to Heaven is a song about hope, and for whatever reason it has been playing over and over again in my heart.
Happy Beautiful New Year, this is my prayer for you.
I hope for our earth, and each person on it, all creatures great and small, the flora, the fauna, every songbird who sings, every tree, every brook, rock, and root; I hope for all that is sacred, mystical and true; I hope for your family and loves, your circle of friends; I hope for your dreams to be sung, and your memories clear; I hope for moonlight reflections under shiny bright stars; I hope for all those you have lost, that are no longer near; I hope you have peace, and follow your soul; I hope for everything holy, and those you hold close; I hope you can accept what is different from you; I hope for your knowing we are blessed to grow old; I hope for compassion, wisdom and truth; I hope you choose faith and respect above all; I hope you are thankful for the life you’ve been given; I hope for an abundance of healing, wealth, and love; I hope that in unity we will create something new.
How amazing to contemplate the intricate Beauty of the Universe. Our lives surrounded by everyday miracles we often take for granted. From the fragrant essence of a flower, to the perfect synchronicity of body and mind, breathing in and out, together, seemingly without effort. Lost in a world of struggle, we see from eyes limited by shadows. Judging situations by an endless litany of words; right, wrong, good, bad. Hoping to evade what lies before us without accepting what truly is. Gazing outwardly, denying responsibility for these life lessons. No one desires suffering, yet somehow it comes despite concerted efforts to hide. Leaning into jagged edges, centered without judgement. Choosing not to run, may be our only saving grace. Unknown to us the reasons of how or why. The masterpiece of our journey not to be seen in its entirety. We must trust there is beauty with every stroke of life’s brush. For surely the Spirit so efficiently guiding the Universe, is also the same energy from which we are born. Making our lives as miraculous as the most perfect flower.
Once upon a future time on a spinning planet called Earth, lives a seemingly infinite civilization of people, in all colors shapes and size. Each born with a shimmering light pulsing like the echo of falling stars. United by the truth that it’s better to live with grace, individually unique, equality and strength. Together in blissful harmony. The people honor and cherish the sacredness within.
Surrounded by a dizzying array of creatures great and small, hopping, flying, climbing, feathers to burrowing claws. The people honor and cherish the sacredness within.
From rugged stony mountains, to luminous blue seas, simmering deserts and ancient forests, all wonders in between. The people honor and cherish the sacredness within.
Seasons slowly turn, embracing the cycle of change. Every day a celebration, for the beauty they all share. Each night wrapped in holiness, for lessons they had learned. Thankful to remember, that separation has its cost. The people honor and cherish the sacredness within.
For long ago it was told, of a time wrought with despair. Their numbers and cares immense, they forgot why they were there on this spinning dancing earth, and began to grow apart. Fighting for whose light was brightest, each thinking theirs was best. They misused their fellow creatures, breaking cautious trust. They polluted healing waters and sundered what was grown. Depleting abundant soils, their refuge and their home.
The shimmering light within, like the pulsing echo of falling stars began to fade away, until it was nothing more than a tiny flickering spark. Separated, no longer could they see the light in the heart of others, nor feel from earthly creatures amidst the diminishing land. Instead they lied and blamed, for what they themselves had lost. Hidden behind deepening shadows, a tiny flickering spark, all but snuffed away.
The people forgot and searched to fill their growing need. In groups they stood together, formed by their own loss. Divisive was their shield, and hopelessness their sword. Using fear to create more power, they gave up their own way. Fighting to remain the same, and only darkness reigned.
Until one night it happened, the end was almost near. Everything was ruined, and the world was ruled by fear. The sky filled up with light, from each and every star, the brightness overflowing, and shown upon the earth. The brilliance of their warmth, made the people stop and stare, and suddenly they remembered what they knew since time began. They were all in this together, apart they could no longer stand.
Once upon a future time, the people honor and cherish the sacredness within.