Spiritual Gangster

 Part of my practice is to create sacred spaces where I honor my guides, my teachers, a theme, what I am manifesting, what I am inspired by, and what I am teaching.   This ritual helps me remember my intention, connect to the deeper teachings which I take quite seriously, and to myself {which I…

What are these sutras
You speak so about?
Are they stitches like sutures
With some sort of clout?

Good question, my friend~
Why, yes, yes indeed,
These sutras are potent
In times of great need.

In times of great need,
And in times of great bliss,
These highly condensed words
Should not be dismissed.

The most essential core thread,
Of deep subtle meaning,
That runs through the fabric~
It supports out of gleanings.

Gleanings of insights,
And wisdom fused pearls~
From the direct experience
Of wise boys and girls.

Sutras express so much
In so very few words.
With vast significance,
It’s not for the birds.

Sutras are formulas
To be memorized and studied.
To solve the perplexities~
Of minds getting muddied.

So chose your text wisely~
Yoga, Shiva or Seuss,
Buddhist, Tao, Platform,
Tripitaka or Mother Goose.

Then write them in BOLD~
Where you’ll see them each day!
Melt their magnificence
In every which way.

I see it everywhere. I hear it spoken in so many contexts. I come across it in a multitude of publications. Since the idea of Grounded: Yoga, Laughter, Elevation came into being and I was blessed to be a part of the ground-floor of its creation, rarely does a day pass when I do not…

Oh Ethiopia, how quickly you stole my heart! I originally set off on the journey to Africa to provide art therapy based art classes through a local non-profit in Atlanta called drawchange. The goal was to expose a group of impoverished children to art and allow them to express themselves through a variety of art…

Election! Election!
Left Versus Right
Moon Versus Sun
Both shining bright!

The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.

“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

“I suppose you are real?” said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive.

But the Skin Horse only smiled

–  From the Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams  –