“Meditation is the highest form of prayer, a naked act of love and effortless surrender into the abyss beyond all knowing.” ~Adyashanti...

Open your heart to a stranger and know that stranger is your own self. Watch the sunrise this winter and remember nothing. Notice all actions, tendencies, and desires, which block the flow of love. Let them dissolve in the fire of non-attention. Live this life for what it is and do not concern yourself with the future. Follow the path which is not a path, but which leads you in each moment.

When I was a child, particularly after my family had moved a few times, and life had shown me that it was anything but constant, I became terrified of going to bed at night. Even then I can remember struggling to identify exactly  what  I was afraid of. I settled, finally on the answer that so many kids choose. “What are you so afraid of?” My parents asked each time I cried about going to sleep. “The Dark.” I responded. “We’ll get you a night light, will that help?” “A lit

After months of anticipation and goodbyes to my friends, school, and neighborhood the five of us got on the plane, me, my brother, my sister, Mom and Dad. I felt more like a family unit than ever as we entered the unknown together. When we arrived at the Brussels airport after connections, a sleepless night, and a massive time change to a foreign country where we would now  live, my siblings and I were excited to see the signs we couldn’t read, the food we didn’t usually eat

Mo, our pet turtle, ambles along the edge of my bedroom while I write this. His shell, which is actually a part of his body, not separate from him, hits the sideboards, the potted plant, almost knocks over a glass of water, until I hear him underneath my chair. When I peak over the edge of my notebook he stretches his purpley-blue neck far out of his shell and looks up at me with a sideways facing eyeball. He blinks once.  I reach for him and place him into the blanket on my

Last week I visited my ninety-eight-year-old Grandmother. Born in 1915, raised on a farm, and then working as a teacher, Grandma Guinther spent her whole life being schooled, or schooling others in what was “right.” Correct behavior, table manners, pronunciation, spelling. Now she has dementia and lives in a memory care facility with others who no longer have the capacity to care for themselves. When I visit her I often struggle with what to  do  while I am there. She’s wheel