Archive | Spirit Matters

Luci Is My Sky of Diamonds

Today is the tenth birthday of Luci, my youngest goddaughter. I couldn’t be more grateful to her parents Melina and Kurt Vanderpile for bringing such a radiant person into the world, and for allowing me in some small way to help facilitate her growth. She is one of the most loving and sweet-hearted humans I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing: What other child frequently and voluntarily sends hand-made cards via snail mail to her godmother? She is also one of the funniest. Just look at her romantically cradling this cannoli! (Also please note the cannoli on her nose. It’s a small but characteristically waggish touch.)

Astral Peony Projection

I keep wanting to write more but the peonies are abloom and I’m so immersed in their big color and fragrance that I don’t have the distance required for narration. A friend says that’s a good thing and I think she’s right. May’s soul time, all-at-once time, let-it-grow time. Chairos not chronos. Reception not reflection. I’m rhapsodically in love with everything, including you. But rather than say more I’ll just go to sleep to rise again with the birds. By my bed are vases of the deepest pink peonies to bathe my dreams. I’ll send you some, via carrier doves and a bedazzled tesseract. Don’t be surprised if you smell fuchsia when you wake.

The Church of Rose Petals and Mother May I

Cherry blossoms in the Brooklyn Botanic Garden and Kehinde Wiley’s fancy ladies at the Brooklyn Museum of Art on Friday; lilacs and Lady Liberty yesterday morning; and, for good measure, a Beltaine ritual last night, with Aphrodite and rose petals and glitter and Stevie Nicks and persimmons and crimson-clad NYC fairywimmin and the High Priestess Magdalene (always Magdalene). I’ve cleaned my home with lavender and tea tree oil and saged every corner; I’ve bathed under the sexy Scorpio full moon in a tub filled with rose oil and the goddess circle-blessed petals. Mama May, Madre Miracle, Mothers Mary, I’ve honored your divine feminine with every cell of my brightened being. Now I gratefully bask in your scarlet kundalini–just what the magic back doctor ordered.

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy