Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Training and generosity

I spent just over two weeks this summer in retreat in Colorado. I wish I had the words to express what it's like, why I go back again and again. This practice has become my life. Through relating to my own mind and heart, I have realized something very important: my life is not mine. I am not here to acquire things, make statements, achieve this or that success. Rather, my entire existence is to be of benefit to all beings. To help others experience their innate qualities of wisdom, goodness, kindness, and strength. To help wake others up to their own minds and hearts. This I know. Thus, I have dedicated my life to this purpose.

I can't help others if I'm not relating to myself. Thus, this path of practice and training is choiceless. It is beautiful and profound. I continue to learn and to deepen, touching in to what this ancient lineage has to offer. How fortunate we are to have these realized teachers who have also dedicated their lives so that I could wake up and touch my own mind and heart.

I am currently raising funds to support the continuation of my training. If you feel inspired to give, I would greatly appreciate your generosity. You can read more about my path here.

Thank you.

Red Feather Peak, Shambhala Mountain Center





Sunday, April 27, 2014

Broken Heart Blossoms

It's been a while.

I've been engaged in so many ways- healing, creating, and following my inspiration.

I wanted you to know that I now have a book of poetry out.

All proceeds from the sales of this book will go to pay for meditation retreat.

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You can check it out here
Broken Heart Blossoms

Monday, January 6, 2014

Blink of the Moon


There's something simple
in the twilight of coming
into
just this.

 The way the moon blinks
long and slow
cat-like
just above the horizon.

Or the mirror the tide makes
pulling out and in
the stretch of reflection
that blurs the shore.




Dancing with the blur,
my mind licks the shore
of things as they are

Perception recedes
leaving the luminous
bare and open

Tentatively, I touch
one finger to the
raw nature of
my mind

And find that
having a finger
makes no sense