I am made up of two minds. One lives in my human body, aware of my past and present. My other mind lives in my heart where the miracles are.

At times, I have been so overcome by words, I feel violated. Words have energy and carry the same force and effect as they intend.

Breaking open is occurring all over the planet. Catastrophe is striking lives of all ages. People are shaken awake and choosing their path.

I’ve read that core beliefs are a person’s most central ideas about themselves. Everything's filtered through them. Even if they aren't true

I have been thinking about the loneliness of Covid—each of us confined in our lives with our individual configurations. Alone with our fear.

I ask myself this morning, what am I doing with my awake time? Life during the pandemic is different. I searched for what is missing.

We are antennas picking up information from inside and outside, but our awareness is limited to what we know.

I didn’t know my strength until I was broken open. Life dealt circumstances and I learned It takes a catastrophe to wake us up.

In my Silence, I feel my pain rise, discomfort grow, fear grip me. Sometimes I feel anger bump against my insides. Breath helps it dissipate

I started dreading when this wonderful thing will end or be taken away from me. I set myself up for the fall. I created the Ache.

I felt numb staying home. Then I felt a sense of despair. It was as if many people in my life had died. Grief made me aware. So I adapted.

This is a meditation about comfort. With awareness, breathe in and slowly breathe out relax into comforting breath. You are one with the air

Covid is looking in my window. I experience a guided meditation early this morning, and tears welled up. I choose to face my fear.

During the most traumatic event of my life, I miraculously found stillness in the turbulence of the surrounding violence I was subjected to.

I’m humbled by the innate intelligence of my physical body and my spiritual body. So, I wasn’t surprised when the spasms started in my back.

I’ve wanted something all my life. To be heard, to feel loved, to have friends, to belong. But there was always something missing.

I've felt lost most of my life. And now I reparent myself. I imagine myself as an elder, sitting in the upholstered chair in the living room

Worry has weight. Worry pulls energy down. If I could put a texture on worry, it would stick to my hands like cobwebs. Worry blocks light.

I've had a problem most of my adult life. But I didn’t know it. After 30 years, I started seeing it.

I am living my herstory one day at a time, struggling and succeeding, loving and losing, and loving again