For the wise girls
I am working with a group of young ladies, age eleven. I teach them what they already know. This poem came from our work together.
Remember, when you are older, the wisdom you hold today.
See again this room and this moment,
Hear
Your own voice speaking
The lesson of the orange:
That we are as we are
On the outside
Skin bumpy or smooth
Blemished or whole
Bruised or burnished or
Faintly fragrant. Continue reading
How’s your creativity these days? Feeling stuck? Not where you want to be on your creative journey? Would you like some insight into your creative journey and what’s holding you back?
If you would like a free clairvoyant reading focused on your creativity challenges, leave your name (first and last is best) and a brief comment or question below and I will take a look at what’s going on with you. I will post the results as another comment after I look at your question in the meditation space. If you prefer not to have the results shared publically, use the Contact Alix form on this blog, or email me, without the spaces, at alix @ tapping the well within . com (remember, delete the extra spaces to make the email address work!)
I wish you joy on your journey,
Alix
Shameless are the young girls
Who see their bodies
As plump and joyful engines
Of abundance
Whose limbs know
Uncomplicated pleasures
Who dance without ego
In a state of grace Continue reading
Each day, as I settle
Into the clear pool of time I call meditation
(Spirit joyful
Feet flat on the floor)
Each day I ask
What energy do I need today
In this golden moment
In this pause along my way?
Today the answer came back
Ripening
What a luscious word
Ripening
It evokes progress
My purpose that is coming clear,
The knowing that soon I shall bear fruit.
Earth, too, is ripening.
She holds the intent to grow into her next incarnation.
The fruits of her journey may be strange,
But I cannot wait
To eat them.
The power of Spirit is frightening
To one who has locked
That power away
To one who has given the chains
And the keys
To his innermost self
Away.
Who holds those keys?
Who pockets that power?
Is it god?
Religion?
Religious men who claim to know and to run
The power of intercession?
Women too may yield their power up
Yet we also know
We can birth it back
At any moment.
I sit
At the center of myself.
My intention begins
At a tiny point of light
Deep within
The balanced center of the middle
Of my head;
And from
That set point
My energy flows out in waves
Concentric and electric both.
This point inside my head
Contains all the wisdom
Of the universe,
And my wisdom.
It holds
All the light there is,
And my light.
My information beats
Like the wings of a dove
Like my own heart—
Infinite and infinitesimal,
Anchored and free.
My attention begins
In a tiny point of light
Exactly in the center
Of my head.
I forgive you
For how you have illuminated
All the soul spots I have not healed.
I forgive you
For the faces of your children
That echo my face when I was young.
I forgive you
For forgetting that appearances are worth less
Than the heartbeat of a peaceful home.
Ah, how I craved that peace when I was young!
I forgive you your anger
That spills over me like bright acid
Closing my mouth down around the truth
I was just about to speak.
I forgive you.
I am still trying to forgive myself
For judging how
You walk your path.
For each wave of invalidation you cast
I have volleyed invalidation back.
Please forgive me.
