Meditative Musings

— a quiet collection of poems, thoughts, and photographs

Maybe things just happen, and we invent stories about them to make the world seem a little less cruel.

Life's fragility is both terrifying and beautiful.
It's beautiful because it's vulnerable.
It's beautiful because nothing is guaranteed.

Treasure the moment when your personal darkness becomes light —
when you accept it as a necessary, unique part of your life,
and realize that the light you now experience was born from it.

Why does the world feel so strange whenever the wind blows?
It’s as if the wind carries with it everything the world has ever known.Ghosts from the past.
The echoes of our ancestors’ cries and laughs,
and the whispers of words left unsaid.And when the wind touches my face,
I swear sometimes I feel I’m carrying it all, too.

The waves roll in, and my mind goes still.
Mama Gaia holds me gently in her palms of sand, and everything becomes so simple.This is all there is.My heart softens, like stones worn smooth by the sea.

The tears have gathered.
I feel them pressing, growing heavy,
waiting to tumble over the precipice of my lower eyelashes.To leave their streak marks down my cheeks.To say, hey you, do you see me?Listen, they say ❤️I carry within me pieces of your pain.Will you let me wash you clean?
Will you let me lighten the load of worries you carry?
Or gently hold each shattered dream?Each could’ve and should’ve,
and what if, and how come,
and why do things have to be this way?Because you see, my dear,
I am a vessel for change.The old masters talk of transforming suffering.
The feelings that wound are the same that gift understanding.And from the well that is my source,
a wisdom grows, it swells to overflow,
it reaches out its hand nudging,
“take me.”Can you feel your pain so fully
that it seeps into the cracks and crevices of your being?
That it becomes an irreversible part of your story?Another mark to add
to your collection of scars from a life lived unapologetically.So…Go and feel it all,
and see it unfiltered for what it is —
the truth as your teacher.And then, when you’re done,
let me take it.I’ll swaddle it in a drop of warm salt water
and send it over the precipice
to catch the light on your cheeks
and reflect it back.

What does it mean if you feel like a foreigner in your own life?