Allegory of the Cave

I’ve been thinking a lot of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave recently.
Imagine prisoners tide up side by side in darkness placed in front of a blank stone wall. The prisoners can turn their heads nor move so that they can’t see one another. Behind them there is a fire and the captors have people walking in front of the fire with puppets so that it casts a shadow upon the wall the prisoners stare at. Any sounds and talk, these prisoners believe come from the shadows in the wall. This is the reality they live in and they have no knowledge of people or the captors behind them.
One day they are set free and have to crawl through a narrow tunnel to an opening into the outer world. When first reaching the outside they see the light of the sun and it’s blaring and painful because they’ve only known darkness their whole life. It hurts their eyes and burn their skin, so they retreat back into the comfort of their darkness into the only reality they’ve known their whole life, not understanding it’s been an illusion.
However a few realize there is something more outside and decide to go back into the light. Over time their eyes adjust and the sun feels good. They realize in that moment that the shadows they thought were real were only replications of what is real under the sun while some stay in the darkness, those who go outside can finally live free.
What I believe is the reality can hurt when you live in the comfort of illusion for so long, but eventually the light of reality is the only way to live a life beautiful and free.

allegoryofthecave #plato #reality #illusions #freedom #justiceforahmaudarbery

Third Life

Third Life

I had to die a couple times,

To peel away the layers,

And what I found beneath the sweet,

Was a festering wound,

Swollen with pus.

I squeezed that shit until I cried,

And let myself bleed out until I died.

I didn’t know if I’d come back,

But I opened my eyes,

And saw myself.

There are scars still healing,

And the pain, I’m still feeling,

But the pain feels nice,

A little more life

And a little less strife

Between all my other lives.


Hurt Child

Hurt Child

The Past came and made a visit,

And I saw a hurt child,

She was pure and innocent,

And didn’t know

That monsters sometimes wear human masks.

They came and visit me today,

And I pulled my hair back,

Brushed the monsters aside,

And looked the girl in her eyes.

I told her I love her,

And wrapped her in my arms,

And hummed the vibration of love.

She smiled,

And we blew the monsters away,

For they were just dust all this time.


Shattered Pieces

I have been shattered into a thousand pieces

And those who love puzzles have tried to piece me back together,

Each confident they made me whole,

Manipulating some of the pieces that wouldn’t fit and wedging them in to fill in the gaps,

Not realizing that each time I was taken apart,

That I couldn’t be the same.

And some pieces no longer belonged.

And it pained me to have someone mold me to their idea of completion.

When all I needed was to be received with holes, broken, and left over pieces.

Excerpt “letters in the dark”

Love is sloppy messy beautiful madness.

I wish I could write a fuck You letter to everyone who painted a picture otherwise.

Why take out the angst and pain and have You fear it when that’s the part that makes it real.

And Malice isn’t always a good place.

But it’s a place.

Yet He’s numb because he still believes in fairy tales.

Plant Therapy

Woke up in a funk today 

In light of some recent events in the world, the states, my microcosm, the home, my room….

The first thought after teaching yoga this morning is that I need to clean, and then I’ll feel better,

But the heaviness would not leave for me to lift a limb.

Then I thought, I need a little motivation,

And so I went to the nursery,

Walked around conversing with my enlightened toddler,

Found a healthy new fiddle leaf fig and a lush maiden hair fern.

I never pretended to be perfect. 

Happiness in a swipe and small talk, “yes the weather is much nicer today… no receipt please.” No paper trails. 

Now my Boston fern and birds nest fern look happier and truth is, their chances of survival have just increased with their new companions….

As well as mine. 

Morning After Pill

     After an eventful weekend of sound healings, Reiki, storytelling, and shedding, I woke up and locked myself in the bathroom, sitting on the “potty” to cry in solitude. Whether it was the Capricorn Moon pulling emotional memories from the stories ingrained into the fine grooves of our skin, or it was merely pure coincidence, the three days of this full moon came with others, as well as myself, sharing stories of our ancestors and our own past. Some told their stories loud, and some just shared it with their presence, but the intensity of everyone’s want for healing was thick and heavy. 

     During ceremony as my sister Arvindjeet chanted, sang, and sent out vibrations in the beautiful way she does, I walked from person to person performing reiki, hovering my hands over head, heart, arms, belly…. and in some instances feeling my heart heavy with that deep kind of hurt that makes it burn in ones threat, some with that kind of love that makes your skin tingle, some sighs, shivers, and some with a sort of softening release. The aftermath is often heavy for me and it takes a couple days for me to process everything I felt, on top of my own healing. So I found myself seeking Solace away from my kids in the bathroom with the door locked, and basically pissing from my eyes, but I began to think back to something a friend said this weekend. “People’s stories are so rich with beauty, whether it’s painful or joyful,” resonating and I couldn’t help but laugh while fully clothed on the toilet thinking about how beautiful it all is, so much so that we are capable of feeling the immensity of the pain and love in the way we do, that it brings us to places such as ones of this weekend, sprawled on the floor amongst friends, family and strangers, singing, crying tears, laughing, sharing intentions, and letting someone wave hards all over their body,

Trusting, vulnerable, open. 

     I heard the romp of 4 little feet running towards my sacred sanctuary yelling, “mom! I need to swallow a pill! I figured it out! I think I can do it! Can you give me a pill to swallow?”

My eldest must have had an epiphany of sorts and I handed him a harmless turmeric gel cap. He ran to the kitchen and I hear, “ugh!” And a splatter of liquid hitting the floor and the little one squealing with laughter. “Never mind! That was gross!” He tried to chew it. And the little one said, “happy birthday!” 

“Who’s birthday is it?”

The elder responding, “there must be a billion people in this world so it’s someone’s birthday right? Or it’s a lot of people’s birthdays today!” And he smiled at this revelation, his teeth bright yellow from the turmeric. 


When grandma passed away,

I wrote her a poem because it’s the only way I could communicate with her. 

It was a silly childish poem, but I remember thanking her because up until her death I was afraid of it. 

She used to ask me to come into her room and would show me a box she wanted me to take out from her closet when she died. 

That was 25 years before she actually passed. 

So I wrote to her because I didn’t know where to find the box anymore. 

I always wondered what was in that box. 

I went to the beach to burn the poem so I could send it up to her, but it was so windy I couldn’t  get the paper to ignite. 

Three guys were sitting around their own blazing bonfire and I asked them if I could burn a poem I wrote for grandma who had just passed. 

They asked me to read it to them. 

That must have been the most intimate moment I’ve ever had with three men at one time. 

I lit a cigarette and walked away alone to have a beer by myself. 

That was a night of many firsts. 

Screw Walls


I have put up walls, 

tore them down, 

built them back up, 

splattered pictures across them, 

stacked up books, 

Cluttered it to hide the holes I punched through them,

Healed and cleared them away, 

slowly chiseled them down, 

and now I’m done with them. 

I decided to grow roots 

and life grew in its place. 



We screamed, yelled

Moaned and groaned 

Slapped skin,

Plucked and pounded 

Shook until the whole house and everyone in it throbbed,


And healed.