With alignment comes flow. Energy magnetic like wind to breeze. This is the way when walking the road of intention. Each step taken leads you there, and when you arrive you see what is to be known. Everything exists in order to reveal to you the fullness. What has ever been missing when the cup remains full and you drink, dripping to overflow? Life sustains you in each moment. How many have you held in gratitude? What moments have been remembered when the newness passes and what was once fresh has lost the scent of fragrance? Still, it gives to you more. Life.



I see you. It is you that I have seen. Gratitude. I hold you close, a sacred reminder of all that has every been. May it always be–this deep knowing that I have known since time folded into itself and created the road upon which I walk. I move always to the center of your being. Oneness. May it always be–that I see you with eyes wide open to the way, and that mindfulness remains both faint and strong, both subtle and direct. As long as I know it is enough. The cup runs over.

When the echo chimes


Image: Gomyanmartours

When I turn toward, you show me the way. Never without an open path upon which to walk. You guide. I follow. I’ve called out in times when the road seemed to wind, nauseating twists leading me there through the valley that the peak might be found. I live there atop the mountain, feet dangling.




Suspended between the pottery and the clay. I’ve been molded and shaped. I’ve been shifted and transformed. I’ve been made whole out of the fragments of pieces of me. Whole. It’s been missing. Nothing. Stone like cement making permanent wise decisions. I’ve decided and undecided time and time again and you’ve freed me from the unknown that I might know.




You remain there for me. A breeze through time and space that my inhale does not go dry. You wet wide the whistle that sound might fill me. I hear. I’ve heard. It is the sound of music.

All things in time


Image: Jeri Garry

I wonder about dating quite a bit, especially because that’s where I am at this point in my life. I’ve been here before, and then not, and again, and not, and here again. I’m looking forward to not, but differently. That’s the key: Different. Everyone is seeking to connect but not everyone is meant to connect with each other. Sometimes we find this out further along the road. I’ve experienced that before, which contributes to the starts and stops, the beginnings and endings. It’s interesting, the way of people, the way of myself. Even two “good” people may not be good for each other. I’ve learned that. I’d like to think that the people I’ve dated or been in relationships with are good people. They are. Many of them remain friends. So what happened? Who knows? That’s like asking why you got caught at the light while driving. Is it because you were going to slow or too fast, or was it just a random moment? Alignment. That’s the experience that tells the truth. When you’re aligned you’re able to walk the journey, and when you’re not, you won’t. You may try–I have–but you will not succeed, because without alignment it doesn’t matter how “good” a person is or how hopeful you are; it’s all about the truth of the two of you and how you add up together.


Where am I now? Open. Not in a rush. Welcoming alignment and truth. Not willing to compromise things that ought not be compromised. Not trying to turn a no into a yes. Paying attention beyond the excitement of newness. Keeping steady with my intentions. Being real.


Life is colorful. Every experience is worth the journey when it is walked in truth. I’ve been in truth. I am clear on that. I’ve been authentic. I’ve not compromised my voice, not stayed past the expiration date nor left before. Some things I can see early on and others may take a second, still, I see in time. All things in time.


That’s how I feel about meeting someone: all things in time. I appreciate that knowing, that awareness. Pictures painted are never perfect. The hand cannot create straight lines nor can two people create total harmony. The waves make way for the calm. We ebb and flow.



Image: Kissiah Young

Today, I celebrate.

I do so with a bottle of wine.

On this, the thirty-first day I use it to pour red into a glass.

Thirty days have come and gone.

Dry, even as the rain fell.

Steady my gait in the direction of now.

It is over. It is finished. It is time to return again to the joy of taste.

Clos du Bois.

– the sound of a toast-

Cin Cin!

old vintage clock

Quick steps.

In the direction. Nowhere going.

We move still. Stilled by movement.

Time lapse, like a glass holding hours.

Seconds of infinity long enough for dreams to become.

Sleeper rests too long

– then –

Quick steps.

In the direction. Nowhere going.



I haven’t been sharing my journey, but I’ve been baring my soul. This much I know is true because it speaks to me when I hear it. Listening requires a certain ear, one tuned in to the way of the path. Each person walks. Every direction leads to a different place arriving at the same point in the center. It’s been my prayer that I’ve shared. A secret language known only to those who know. It takes knowing, lest you think nothing of the words expressed in parables inside of paradox, a locked box. Pandora. To be open is to find. To find is to seek. To seek is to accept the responsibility of having ever known. You only listened in part–missed the beginning and the middle of a life of soul-baring. The ending missing pieces lost in translation. This is what happens when you skip beats, abandoning the present for the future.



Yesterday I spent most of my day absorb in writing, not here on this site, but behind the scenes in the site of my life. I’m working on a book along with a couple of essay projects and caught the breeze of momentum. In the flow. That’s how I felt as word after word left my inner and arrived on the screen before me. The words came calling. I allowed the room and space of them. I created a pathway clear of debris that there be no excuses, nothing to distract me from the walk, nothing to block flow. Conscious. That’s what I like to call it. It was time spent consciously absorbed in the craft of word making, of story telling, of life sharing. It’s a memoir of sorts, one happening in real time rather than a story in past reflection. I’m keeping steady, breathing through all moments that I might arrive at clarity. It is there through clear eyes that I see the stories that are to be told.


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