kill your old stories slash and burn them to the ground… narrate something new.
kill your old stories slash and burn them to the ground… narrate something new.
Originally posted on Perspectives on Healing:
My name is Mandy, and I am a healer. Such a simple statement, and yet it has taken years for me to give voice to those words. And even now, sometimes I still stumble on them– try to quickly find the justification or clarification once they’ve been uttered… Couch them in apology…
even the shadow of your love is the brightest place I’ve ever been.
i do not offer you my hand because i think you need it to stand… nor does it seem your fingers originate from other than myself…
enveloped in your scent– swirling lines and figures capture your gestalt.
My 16 year old cat died this past Saturday night. She was declining– and clearly ready to depart. I knew Thursday when she stopped eating and spent all day in the backyard under a tree that she was clear in her decision to go. I told both of my kids when they arrived home from school that …
the truest romance born of spit and grass stains mirrored feet and an ease that exudes timelessness and whispers of the infinite. languid days of smiles and symmetry harmonious melody grounded in familiarity– like the comfort of an old pair of jeans, softened and worn in the perfect places– a childhood photo, fuzzy at the …
i love how tightly you hold onto me at night– (as if i would leave.)
the volumes that you communicate without re- sponding: infinite.
i love you most for your belief in magical beauty abounding.
the edges of myself 