It’s imperfect, always
It never meets our expectations, our hopes, our dreams
It confounds us, confronts us, terrifies us
It gets under our skin
It renders us helpless and full of fear
We run from it
As far as possible
Another country, another life
We hide in our addictions
In our relationships
We try and bury our resistance
We deny it, denounce it
We try and rationalize it, negotiate with it
We even spiritualize it

And finally, with grace
After years of exhaustion

We accept it as it is
And it becomes perfect.

Image from Pixabay


Old stuck past anger
Creates grievances
In the present

Turned outward
It creates war with the world

Turned inward
It creates war with the self

Ultimately it’s a destructive energy
That begs us to see it, know it, feel it
So it no longer lurks in the shadows
This transforms anger into authority
And creative expression

And it gives us our voice back.

Image by Giacomo Zanni from Pixabay


Eventually fate arrives
At every door
With the same invitation
To return home
Until then
We must live boldly
Tenderly, authentically
Wisely and freely
We must dance with tears in our eyes
And the beauty of life
In our blazing hearts
Tasting the sweetness
Even as it vanishes into emptiness.

Image by Silvano from Pixabay