Pyramids


Egyptians, Mayans, Aztecs, 

Ancient civilizations,

Building perfect pyramids

As a collective 

Sacred and divine,

And we the evolved

Now call ruins.

 We have revolved,

Struggling to rebuild our own temple,

Born perfect,

On our own

Ruined,

What was sacred and divine. 

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Generator, Operator, Destroyer


Me and my bean, we’ve seen things.

We’ve stared into each of our eyes so intently that we’ve seen God.

We do this for minutes and he doesn’t turn away.

I don’t turn away.

We just stare until our hairs rise and we giggle

Because I helped create him and he helped resurrect me. 

When I hum and he hums we breathe in the same things and we mmmmmmmmmmmmm

Until we smile because it feels good to be one sound.

And when he’s tired he curls up like a little bean, legs and arms tucked right on my lap with his ear by my chest,

I wrap my arms around him until our heart beats the same again and we return home,

Both of us a whisper who haunts gods dreams and lure him to play king of the forest,

Until we open our eyes and forget 

and 

repeat.

Bird Song 

Bird Song

Morning light and sweet treats,

Expanding wings in clear dreams 

Deep breath into floating feet,

Water flowing through my soul with ease. 

Moving to my birds songs

Mornings light 

Sweet treats

Clear dreams 

Soul at ease  

Flight in feet.
Weekend schedule:

@balancedlifecenters Saturday gentle yoga at 9:00 am

@oliveyogalb Subbing Sunday 8:00 am yin yang yoga and 10:00 am prana flow 

Pea Love

Pea Love

Afternoon pickup 

I groan.

“Why you hurting mama?”

“I’m bleeding son.”

“Where’s the blood,”

“Where I’d pee.” I speak bluntly.

Boy eyes wide I explain.

“You know our chickens lay eggs each day?

Mama lays eggs each month, but it’s just a speck a dust.

It’s cuz I can make babies. 

You were the size of a pea when I first saw you,”

Eyes even wider with amazement. 

“That’s crazy! And baby brother was a pea too?”

“And I was once a pea too.”

We both smile probably pondering the same thing. 

Before bed.

He tosses and turns. 

“Go to bed son.”

He huffs and sighs.

“I am much like you little boo.”

“Uh huh” he says annoyed.

“Yeah I was afraid of the dark, monsters,

Ghosts, shadows, lights….

I used to bundle up inside my blanket where they couldn’t get me until my hands and feet got hot and convinced the monsters they were covered with invisible shields just like my head.”

Excited. “I count to 10 to jump on couches before they can get me.”

“I used to dream of flying and wake up the next day trying to fly.

I felt safe in my mamas bed too.

Mornings I pretended to be sick because I was tired from staying up all night thinking about traveling to other planets and wondered if there was someone exactly like me somewhere else.”

He hugs me tight. 

We both smile excited to find someone like me

eyes wide, 

probably pondering the same thing. 

String Theory 

My name echoed from every dimension of each universe,

Ripples rewinding into one defined point as Goddess conceived me into existence whispering my name, 

“Hannah, Hannah, Hannah, Hannah…..”
I am born again and again and again from that dark open space where thoughts form words to be spoken into vibration then into being as she plucks a string again and again whispering my name as a song made of pure sound and the reverberations sliding through the tight particles of each invisible filter of worlds back into that single point of light at the center of my universe. 

“Hannah, Hannah, Hannah, Hannah…”

I did not see, but hear myself born into being,

Perpetually formed. 

The sage priestess sweeping gold dust and broken glass from the remnants of a shattered hour glass onto a dustpan while guiding me to float in between the panes of universes to experience my creation. 
And each time I hear my name called,

“Hannah, Hannah, Hannah, Hannah….”

I remember. 

  

 

The Star

The Star

Consistently be the same person with every circle, connection, space, 

Plat•form 

In the hats you pair with the trade you share. 

Be able to trust 

And trust “Love is real,

Real is love.”

Always learning from the foil.

Telekinesis 

“Mom, if you meditate a lot, can you move things?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Like move things with your mind.” He puts his hands by his temples and looks at me inquisitively. “Because my dad says if you start moving things with your mind, he wants to see it.” 

I laugh, “why? Did you tell your dad that meditating will teach you to move things with your mind?” I’m having an aha moment because I wondered why Elijah is more open to meditating and chanting than asana. 

“Yeah! And he says he wants to see it if you do. But can you? If you meditate a lot?”

“Well that is one belief and I think anything is possible.” And right at the moment, a huge container truck was slowly turning into a shopping plaza. Elijah was so occupied he didn’t see it and I raise both hands and say, “watch!” And he looks up at the road to see this huge container turning to block the road with the driver cab on the other side of the truck so it looked as if it was floating. His mouth drops and then laughs as the driver becomes visible. 

“Ha. You didn’t do that. It’s a truck!” And he’s still laughing for being fooled for a moment. 

“Yeah, but I wasn’t really trying to move the truck. I was trying to move you to laugh. We can move the heart, and we can move the energy. Are you feeling happier already?”

He laughs a different kind of laugh. “Yes.” He says smiling and content with that. 

The Green Balloon

He just hit me with a green ballon and said nonchalantly, “I’m gonna marry you!”

“Marry me? Do you know what that means?”

“Yeah, because you got a heart.”

And that heart melted and he ran away. 

Resilient

Resilience

Instinctively we want to draw in and close up into a tight ball as if our body’s a fist to protect the softness within. 

Yet if we open up and let the whole body soften so that whatever tramples upon us moves right over us and we become unbreakable rather than impenetrable. 

Open up,

Take a deep breath,

Relax and sink,

And experience the strength of softness

Then,

“Yes we can!”

“The Giving Tree” revisited 

“The Giving Tree” revisited 
His new favorite book is “The Giving Tree”

It’s the first book my dad bought me. I remember staying home sick from school one day because I wanted to go to work with him. Back then my dad had like 5 jobs to support my family and one was cleaning homes. I begged and begged to wash the windows because the squeegee looked like fun. He let me do a window and I read “The Giving Tree” over and over again on a porch until I could read it so fast that I didn’t have to pause to turn the page. 

     “Mom. Can you read “The Giving Tree” 

“Of course.” I respond with warmth because I love the book so much.” As I read, he finished the sentences because we read it over and over again. I have tears streaming down my face.

He says,”and the tree loved the boy,” in his loud, strong voice,”very much! Mom! Mom! You be the giving tree, and I’ll be the boy. You say, come, eat my apples!”

And we reenact each page and I’m laughing and crying,”hey, but don’t leave me and take all my apples and cut my trunk. How does the tree look?”

“The tree is happy, but but but she looks sad.” He says empathetically. “Mom, but I want to a boat! Can you give me a boat?”

“Sure baby!”

“No, you say, ‘I don’t have a boat.”

“Ok,” I say in my high motherly giving tree voice, “but I don’t have a boat. You can cut down my trunk and make a boat. Then you can sail far far away from here. And you will be happy.”

He hugs me with that smile where his whole face smiles. And I cry.