I write my life to know my life. When I write my life, the inner truth comes out. It’s like when I draw, a barrier disappears. Or fades to the background. And suddenly I’m in touch with this other vibratory field. This other awareness that rises to the surface and makes itself known. Continue reading
It was a tiny shop. There was no one there but a woman in a sari standing behind the glass counter. She smiled at me as I came in. Or rather, her face lit up, causing me to wonder if I had been the only customer that day. I smiled back. She wasn’t young, somewhere in her forties I would have thought. Her long sleek black hair fell in a thick braid down her back. I pointed to the earrings in the window and asked if she could bring them in for me to see. Continue reading
Long ago I heard and read and was told that the opposite of Love is Fear, not hate. We cannot love when we are in fear.
One by one I unmasked my fears through the long and arduous process of writing a memoir. Continue reading
Okay, so I had this incredible, out-of-this-world, mind-blowing experience that among other things told me I had to be a writer, and some years later when I finally had the courage to write about this earth-shattering experience (it only took … Continue reading
The mindless place. Oh, I know it’s all Mind, but off with our thinking head, because we are going to the Inner World. The inner world of thought and being and intuitive knowing. Inner knowing. Poetry. Art. A different patterning … Continue reading
