Find your purpose, find your passion. Find your passion, find your purpose. Turn either way, it doesn't matter. Because how do you separate conjoined twins like these?

The art of living is to fall in love over and over again.It is no easy thing to walk through the world with an open heart, embracing everything, and also stand true, allowing no poison to infect us.But be cracked open often.Pour yourself into life withholding nothing. Heal and be healed. This is the way of living in full.

Welcome the small cracking of your hard-clodded shell,Embrace the warm sting of tears,Kiss the shadow which frightens you awake as you turn the corners of your day,Love the whole of everything,Smooth sunshine skies andJagged edgesWhich all seek us out in Constant whisper and touchTo say, 'hello, Beautiful. You’re alive

You are a living mystery school…Your blood and bones contain ancient wisdom…Your heart is a treasure map to Authentic Self.

You know that crazy heart of yours? The one with lightning crackling and moonlight shining through it. The one you’ve been told not to trust because it often led you off the beaten path. The one so many have misunderstood your entire life. Trust it. Feed it. Grow it. It’s your greatest treasure and will point the way to your highest destiny. It is the voice of your soul.

I need to be startlingly clear. This thing of finding your authentic voice, expressing your blessed weirdness and revealing your soul isn't an elegant process. You don't do it to be cool. You don't do it to get laid or get rich. It's only real when it is ruthless, relentless and inevitable. But it is also a matter of personal and collective survival. Yes, it's that important. You are that critical.

The soul of us is never confused about why it is here.It only asks us to wake up and see the breadcrumb clues it has been leaving all along.It asks us to have courage to face the wounds we have been hiding, allow it to heal them and untangle the heavy, snarled patterns.Because the soul of us has no doubt whatever that it can and, if we allow it to express fully, can live a life of such power and joy through us that our human selves will be astonished.

I don't analyze beautiful. I sit in its presence and love the wholeness of it--the sweet and sad and raw and bright together.Poetry is that, the weaving of light-shadow. Making words from the unwordable.

We are, all of us, always only one breath or softening of our thought away from an invasion of divine wonder and fresh miracles. Soul waits for any small opening of our hearts to steal into everyday life.

With poetry and writing, the question isn’t “do you know the right words?”.The real question is, “can you make words from the unwordable, chisel blocks of raw silence into shapes and touch our souls?