#13 Mystery without Trust is misery. Trust that you are exactly where you’re meant to be. Always.

Make out with your fear.

Fall madly in love with your fear.

Never stop pursuing what you love

and fear the most.

Never.

Yet still, I lay here in the grass

Reading poems

Women deserve to live, our babies deserve to live, and we deserve to come out of our births feeling transformed, well-supported, and nourished, not traumatized, alone, and depleted.

𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. 𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘺 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦.

And that’s ok.

I scroll on the internet, youtube or instagram, looking for someone to teach me. Looking for someone to learn from. Someone who looks like me at least a little bit. Someone who thinks like me…

Some are afraid of her depths

Even me sometimes

Great depth means great unknown

How in the hell did we commodify spirituality? I mean, are you even spiritual if you don’t go to a retreat in a different country to drink Ayahuasca and discover who you truly are?

But it is the wind who’s always whispering, “Remember my darling, Remember”

And I don’t want to.

I used to not understand what people meant when they would say that fear is the opposite of love.

#5 Get a dog!

If you know a little bit more about watermelons, you know that watermelons only ripen on the vine. Once you cut them off of the vine, that’s as ripe as they’ll get. So here arose the lesson of discernment.

Yoga was and continues to be the old man with the lantern for me. Guiding me towards Truth, helping me to remember who I am and why I am here.

How many art projects were born in 2020?

Only to reemerge when the rain washes our egos and fears away, the grass and wildflowers have grown atop us, and our bodies are composted into the soil. We would surrender and we would rise back up out of that very dirt. A new seed would sprout and out would grow a better world.