brick and mortar

The homeless woman spoke of fiscal responsibility.

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Heart/Home

Home is where the heart is

Stop

Take 3 deep breaths and put your hand on your chest

Home is where the heart is and your heart is in your body

The temple of your body is your home

How are you taking care of your home?

Have you prayed in the temple for your temple?

Home Home

Home is where your heart beats

Where your nerves and brain meet

Heart Heart

Heart is where your home is

Diamond like Love

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Their love was made of diamonds so she could wait for him and he could wait for her…
I think that I have made love much harder than it needs to be. Listening to voices that weren’t my own. Not understanding what love really is. Even being too hard on myself and him too.
Its been a rough couple of months. Showtime show worthy. The memory that often brings me back to center is of him holding me and me feeling safe enough to sleep.
Maybe that’s love. Love holds on to you securely even when you have lost your mind and patiently waits for you to find your way back.
I have a love like that. I do. But I’ve got to make sure that I can evenly exchange. I must love myself in a strong secure unwavering way. I believe I do.
He tells me he’s not going anywhere. It seems that neither am I.
Their love was made of diamonds so she could wait for him and he could wait for her…
August I am waiting.

Storm King Art Center

I visited Storm King Art Center yesterday. It was divine. The sculptures made me think a lot about proportion and perspective. I felt tiny standing in the open fields with the massive art and large and infinite within. Balance. Perspective. Proportion.  I felt the bigness of the ideas of those artists. Every vista was visually illuminating. We are all deserving of beautiful space to create.   As I waited for the bus at the end of the day I watched the leaves fall -performance art. *Laughs Below are a few pictures and the link to the Storm King Art Center. Sidenote: Aziz Ansari’s Master of None, season 2 episode nine 9 featured this museum. Check that out too if you didn’t already binge watch it the day after it came out. I love that show.

http://stormking.org/

Art by: Ursula von Rydingsvard-Luba; Alyson Shotz- Mirror Fence; Zhang Huan- Three Legged Buddha; Tal Streeter; Endless Column; Heather Hart- Outlooks; Andy Goldsworthy- Storm King Wall; Menashe Kadishman; Suspended

Dream Teacher

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful teacher. Her classroom was filled with art and big floor to ceiling windows that allowed for the sun’s golden rays to pour in. Other teachers thought of her as a bit unorthodoxies. But that was OK. She knew what she was here to do and the thoughts of others would not distract her.

She had requested her children be allowed to have a longer nap time. She wanted each of her students to be able to wake up in their own way. Waking up was a beautifully unique experience and she felt it in her heart, right in the God space, that this was the lesson that they must learn for their lives. She wanted them to learn to respect and value their dreams and the dreams of others and appreciate the present from an awareness of the connection between their dreams and their realities. You see, their dreams would create their realities. She placed flowers and luscious plants around the classroom, and played soft affirmations throughout the day, she talked about feelings and colors, and what they meant. She taught them to list the things they were grateful for and to appreciate Mother Earth as they connected their toes to the soil. She helped them to understand the complexities of negatives, positives, and balance. All of these things were to fertilize the soil of their subconscious and to enrich the roots of the trees that she hoped would bear healthy fruit in their conscious minds.

She had one little one that never seemed to need to sleep so she didn’t force her. She provided that little old soul with loner tendencies new tasks to complete during nap-time. Sometimes the little girl helped to get the snacks ready or she read books. Sometimes the teacher asked her to draw pictures of what her life looked like in vast detail and sometimes she simply sat in silence swirling in the present. She wanted the little girl to understand that though her classmates were not awake she was not alone and that she could still begin to actualize her dreams in that silence. She could learn, grow, and create in that silence. That was a blessing.

Each day the children would begin to stir around the 33rd minute of the hour.
Two or three would wake up early stretching it out and moving back to their seats, chitter-chattering along the way connecting simply because they had woken up first. On occasion, she had to check their little attitudes because they seemed to think that it was a race, that because they were first to wake up that somehow they were more special. They had not realized that her little helper, her little old soul had been awake the whole time creating in the quiet. She thought it curious that her early risers tried to guide the old soul as if they knew it all. This made her laugh. One afternoon she held the old soul’s hand and looked deep into her wide eyes and reminded her to listen to her own voice. It had gotten strong in the silence. She could trust that voice. She could use that same voice to tell those little egos to mind their own destiny. After a while, the early risers stopped with this conscious competition. They learned that it caused them to miss out on knowledge and blocked their blessings and actually slowed them down. They took on a new role.

The early risers learned to love on and help the sleeping dreamers who woke up crying. Sometimes waking up is scary and you need some soothing. She had some little ones that would wake up ready to run outside and play. Let’s go! they would shout. There were others that would wake up and just lay there processing. They would rise and take their places. She had some that would wake up and fall back asleep and wake up and fall back asleep. She knew that she would have to assist them in breaking this pattern. The time for dreaming is over. Be fearless and get up. There are beautiful things waiting, but they can’t wait forever she said firmly but loving as she gently shook their shoulders. It was time to start tuning in. It was time to start living in the present moment.
Nap time was special. The sleeping dreamers would become the reality creators. The teacher thanked God every day that she could be there in sunshine filled rooms filled with art to teach the children to dream to believe to actualize. Because one day the sleeping dreamers would elevate the whole world.
God bless the sleeping dreamers and the reality creators.

 

Find Us

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The little girls are magical

Little boys too -but could you focus on the feminine with me?

Little girls are creators -Growing

Teenage girls are creators – Growing

Women are creators

The depth of our ability to create so great that life forms inside of our bodies

We are the vessels through which life passes and so much more. That is powerful

Women are powerful creators- Growing

Teenage girls are powerful creators – Growing

Little girls are powerful creators

So we must love serve protect respect appreciate honor and value the little girls- the teenage girls – and the women -before we lose any more

Find ourselves – Find our girls – Never lose them again

photo: My magical nieces at the beach a few days ago