What could I possibly write about God, about Truth?

For it is everywhere I look and everything I see…

Jennifer never could have wanted this. She wouldn’t have wanted it…who could want it? Becoming a hollow bone meant that she had to die…

I write this to pay homage to my teacher. It is the great love story of my life. It is the story of my liberation, and of my heart’s coming home to itself…

You’ve never looked as beautiful as you do now

with death standing over your shoulder…

The rain drizzles — pitter patter —

on the river’s edge…

The opportunity for one who has adopted (or accepted) the role of healer is to turn the mirror back onto oneself…

To be alone is to gaze upon a flower

to melt and merge into the preciousness of its rich color and sweet perfume…

Silence is not touched by experience....

Surrender is meek. It is the quiet whisper that’s been waiting in the shadows, not making any fuss, but simply — continuously — urging you onward…

Body sensations are the compass of our lives. There is nothing esoteric or transcendent about this embodied spirituality. In fact, it is so human and so deeply ordinary that I spent a great majority of my spiritual pursuit ignoring it. It doesn’t feel mystical or divine, but it is the truth…

West Virginia has been the biggest grace of my life. My solitary confinement. The biggest fear of every human being: no community, no friends, no distractions, no job, nowhere to turn, nowhere to hide from myself…

At first glance, she is dark and fearful. At first glance, she is gruesome, with her necklace of severed heads and belt of severed arms. But, for the first time, I really see her…

To everyone

who’s ever told me

I’m too much:

You were right.

True love is not a concept in the mind, no. The mind holds a concept of love, but it pales in comparison to the truth.

Do you gaze upon a mountain range and judge its wrinkles and crow’s feet? Do you behold an ancient tree, its branches twisted and knotted, and desire it to be more youthful?

You are a boomerang, which springs forth from the Absolute and returns to the Absolute.

Every moment is a death; an ending. Every word uttered flowers only once and is gone forever as soon as it passes your lips…

The I-thought is like a lighthouse…

A child sits alone in the dark; her very favorite thing.