Ah, if I were perfect in spirit (ok, I wouldn’t be here–I’d be “there somewhere”), I would start each day with a pure vision.  A vision of Light and Love and the Way of the Comforter.  There are those mornings when my spirit reaches through the doubts, insecurities and machinisms of the busy mind and settles in ease.  And then there are those mornings when I’m late, disheveled and cranky.

I cherish the practice of settling into the story of my spirit that is endless, kind, open and fearless.  At the center I am in love with Gaia, the devas and the fairies who swarm and giggle around me on earth.  My toes reach deep in the luscious mud of here and now.  And in that instant rooting the branches of my shoulders sink into the purity of their strength and my hair tingles with the brilliance of sunlight on my rain-soaked tender twigs.

I miss my kin, but I hear their soft warm voices whispering me to inspiration.  I hear Her humming the lullaby of Her beautiful Way.  Today as I walk the window-less corridors of industry today, I smile that no one can see me–the walking tree.