Journal
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Little Star by Plum Village Band Ft. Born I and Phap Huu
This absolutely beautiful song is based on Thich Nhat Hanh’s poem Little Star published in Call Me by my True Names: The Collected Poems of Thich Nhat Hanh : https://plumvillage.org/books/call-me-by-my-true-names This song was shared & communally listened to in this years 2025 Path of The Modern Bodhisattva Class series taught by Mushim Ikeda at EBMC. I am so grateful to be part of this years class and I hope you can take some of the hope and joy rising from this song like I did. Lyrics Today the kingdom of Heaven Held a festival for thousands of stars I went up to that kingdom Knelt down and prayed That the anguish,…
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My God by Grace Luz
Link to the full audio track on Insight Timer click here This moving prose by Grace Luz a teacher on Insight Timer and fellow chronic illness healer, is truly beautiful. I hope it touches your soul as much as it did mine. My God by Grace Luz When I say my God, I do not mean a figure seated on a throne, I mean the energy that breathes galaxies, The pulse that lives in oceans, In wind, In my chest. My God has no borders, No flags, No fences, No checkpoints. My God doesn’t ask for passports, Doesn’t care where I was born, Or what language I speak, Or how…
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The Part Where You Stop Being Afraid of Being Seen
This year, I finally came to a place where the notion of a perfect and absolute right time and ideal self was too heavy of a burden. For the longest time, it was a reasonable idea. I’d tell myself that I would show this website to people when it had just the right amount of posts, the most compelling writing, when I had finished my art gallery, when I wasn’t this current level of ill, when I once again had a solid social media presence, when I was as close as I could get to being a properly contributing to society able bodied person, when people might give a shit…
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A Rock In The River
Note: This is the only blog post I am keeping from before I revamped. As a reminder of where I’ve been, my strength, progress and growth. I. This blog is written in bed. Always. A bed that isn’t only bed but home, table, sanctuary and world. It is written on a small phone set on dark mode, night shift and Do Not Disturb. It is written by feel and hope. Eyes glancing the screen every other paragraph trying desperately to stretch the minutes left before the timer buzzes; ability dripping away. It is written with thankful hands that remember home keys as really home. With fingers that flutter across a…