On a clear night we can see the sky
through the window-
stars too staggeringly numerous to count,
and space so vast it cannot be fathomed.
As morning dawns we hear birds and insects.
They are praising the new day.
We smell mown grass and honeysuckle.
Leaves stir in the wind,
whispering about joy.
All around us is majesty.
There is even majesty in the crabgrass
growing in the flowerbeds.
All is imbued with abundant life force.
Each morning we are given a world
to be in, to enjoy, to be opened by
and grounded in.
Can we ever truly receive this gift?
How much joy can the heart hold?
we abide….and if we are shot by an arrow of the unquestionable searcher, life sanctifies its presence and colors begin to move like stained glass….these holy doubts and fissures feel like heavy sleep sloughing off into the pink and gold and bronze light within…..
During a soul encounter, you glimpse one or more features of your soul image. This image can be multifaceted and complex like an elaborate tapestry that has many sub-images. Woven into the fabric of the image is a mysterious symbol that holds within it the secrets of your life purpose. Through one or more soul encounters, you learn about that symbol and how it reflects your unique soul qualities or core powers, the gift you were born to carry to others. The fact you have your particular soul qualities, and not others, is the truth at the center of the image you were born with. You might encounter somewhat different images on different occasions. Each person’s soul image is as unique and mysterious as his or her destiny. In contrast to soul encounter, soul initiation refers to that extraordinary moment in life when we cross over from psychological adolescence to true adulthood, from our first adulthood to our second. At that moment, our everyday life becomes firmly rooted in the purposes of the soul. But it’s not so much that we choose at that moment to make soul embodiment a top priority; it’s more as if the soul commands us to that task and we assent…….Bill Plotkin
For the moment, I’ve stopped struggling.
The undertow tugs at my clothes,
and the current takes me where it will. Surrender
sounds like defeat, but this tastes like
victory, the sweet release into something
open, empty, yet complete. My heart
speaks, instructing me to relinquish all
control. I close my eyes, and see myself
dissolving while remaining whole.
When, at last, I am delivered gasping to
the shore, I know it was the letting go
that brought me home. I was saved
not by my strength, but by daring to
be vulnerable and weightless, choosing
not to hold onto any of the debris that
floated past me. Truth tastes salty, like
tears, or the wind-whipped spray torn
from the froth of breakers. Truth tastes
like drowning, feels like being spit out
of the belly of the whale to stand inside
a larger footprint on the sand.