This morning my body prayed through yoga and freed me. My program is changing, and I can feel it through a deeper connection with the universe.  Even when I am lost of all purpose, I am finding there is a purpose in every moment. My body is breaking away from the unconscious fear that habitually plagued me.  I am growing strong. 

Last night I received the blessing of Alice Walker who was speaking at the Writer’s Symposium.  She sets people free with the power of love in words, mixing suffering with joy. She shares her story quilts and reminisces about her past where there was no such thing as litter, days when her teacher sent her work to publishers which brought Langston Hughes into her life.  She uses her art as a mirror and relies on the guidance of the synchronicity which is her circle of magic. I feel so connected with her, how she writes through trauma because that’s what trauma is for. 

Learn to suffer and you will not suffer.

She is a gentle soul full of love and warns us about Hate as it is uncontrollable and grows, but just a slice of it may be useful if you use it to be productive and good such as her hatred for litter in the ocean.  Like me, she is an activist.

She tells us to live, do our work, head for the hills.  And then her palms kiss as in prayer, the stance of meditation, and I felt such a personal divine connection with her as if I was looking into the pool of her eyes.  

She talks about how poems present themselves to her like a visitation and they are there as guests you have to prepare for, through a life deeply lived. I understand this because this also happens to me.  I don’t know why I write. I write for no one and anyone, but most of all it’s just something I do for myself. The words are guests we have to prepare for.  

An ode to Taking the arrow out of the heart

Thank you, Alice Walker.

To the guy who stole someone else’s dream,

To the boss we who said their workers were expendable ,

To the ex husbands who abandoned their children,

To the executives who paid themselves bonuses rather than paying the workers,

To those who shot arrows into my heart and into the hearts of people like me,

And never blinked an eye

I wish you the best in life

As the blood pours out of my heart

Into waters under the bridges that unite us all,

The tide is always turning.

Our hearts are always yearning

Now more than ever.

Let’s pull the arrows out.