Welcome to my blog. The following posts contain the raw notes that have allowed me to remain free of a relentless case of anorexia for about 8 years now. I write because it sustains me. I share because others have found comfort and personal relevance at this time as we walk through many challenges both personally and collectively and because others shared their words with me. I have compiled older writing into more refined prayer/poetry […]
I fell in love with the echo that followed words formed and allowed to flow out of silence. This echo of silence reminded my heart of the forgotten magic hidden within — calming and soothing all in its path,
I learned the value in reclaiming the sacred space within and reconnecting with my heart. There were times when a power greater than my own small, separated self rose up and intuitive knowing could no longer be ignored. Each moment became a conscious choice of “What now?” Anything not moving in the direction of creativity and restoration naturally fell away.
The more I listened to life, the more I noticed the part of me that could hold and let go of any experience. There was a softening each time I stood a little more firmly in my heart and dared to linger in the silent space. Words formed out of this place soothed and echoed in places that had seemed unhealable. And there was tenderness where there had been only pain.
I found I had the power to stand in my heart no matter what. And though it saddened me to remember all the times I walked a darker path, I knew the sacredness of the journey back and the power in choosing my thoughts a little more carefully in each moment from there.
For the parts of us that grieve for all that can’t be expressed in words, for the frustration that comes when words are attempted and seen to be insufficient, I offer my deepest silent prayer. Know that we don’t grieve alone — even when it seems we are on opposing sides on the surface. Somewhere, below the surface stories and very real pain, we know we are connected. And we know there is a part […]
I learned to move in compassion. I chose to notice subtle insights and find clarity. I chose to know myself more deeply as both body and spirit, in this body for a purpose I didn’t always understand. I chose to experience negative emotions and challenges in new ways and allow myself to be drawn to new experiences I didn’t know existed. These new experiences showed themselves to me as one continuous quiet prayer. And so […]
In this moment, I declare a truce, a respite — a little space for healing — here, in the stillness of my heart. — from earlier notes
Let our minds be quieted, just enough — that we may hear and follow the quiet prayer of our hearts. Amen
Let us be quieted just enough — that we may hear our own silent prayers. And when we feel small, quiet our hearts just a little more. Amen