There is a theme that has been playing over and over throughout my life. Helpless and voiceless.

The first beginning, coming out of sleep. The second beginning, settling down for meditation. The third beginning, the crystal bowl.

A book caught my eye yesterday as I gazed in that in-between space in early dawn. It was a subtle nudge I’ve learned to pay attention to.

I feel softened on the inside, seeking comforting beauty. I deserve to pause and remember I am worthy of flowers. I bloom with abandon.

Many blessings are still with me from my trip to Ireland. It's where I fell in love with black birds. I talk to them. There's trust.

Discerning is a skill I practice every day. I forget to take from what I give and I’m left with a hollowness needing solace.

Nothing is static. We live in an illusion of stability. Everything is changing. Including us.