An Audio Read-Aloud on Wisdom Knowing. Listen from the inside, noticing what is stirred in sensation, feeling, and/or cognition.

What a gift it is when another human describes inner experiences with granularity. In this collection, there are words about silence and portals to enter.

I walk in the shoes of others’ wisdom—lyrics my heart recognizes, but cannot presently find words for. One song at a time, circulation is being restored.

My heart is magnetized to keep returning to the felt sense of these paradoxes, and so I do, over and over. In twenty-minute increments of silence, I climb into dissonance and breathe with it.

It’s sometimes in the most unusual places that you actually discover the gift of the Beautiful. I always think that contradiction is what makes a person interesting. -John O’Donohue

When obscurity rises, and
you cannot see where to step next,
your gaze turns ever-so-slightly outward.
Oh, how humbling it is to be human!

A simple practice for drawing on wisdom beyond rational thinking and pro-con lists — a steadying anchor for the disorientation of a dark night of the soul.

If you are in the thick of obscurity, holding inner tensions that cannot be resolved, or feeling disconnected from your deepest knowing. If you are disoriented as the sands of time flow through the hourglass at a dizzying pace and there is no rest in sight, please open to this possibility with me: a taste of something else may also be very nearby.

Water meant to flow into the hose is dripping from the spigot, seeping into the ground underneath it. This well-irrigated little patch of Earth is incredibly fertile, but has not been cultivated with intention.

We’ll talk about finding our way, making it through what we thought would be the death of us, and how we wouldn’t give any of it back if we could. We will lament how quickly time passes, whisper regrets, and dare to speak of what our hearts really want.

Vibrant beauty that once took away breath is a backdrop now; you search for novel sacraments.

There’s a certain kind of magic that happens when we drop into the flow of relating, present to the “unclear edge” of what is sensed, but needs space to find verbal expression. This conversation has been singing in me for weeks.

We feel the pain no words can touch, co-present with gold. Instead of writing it off as “all good,” we breathe with it.

Contemplating abstract artwork is a way to wake up our hearts and find a doorway into the inner landscape. It offers us something quieter, deeper: a wordless language.

He is one of many who,
while walking the road of daily-ness,
catches a fragrance
so tantalizing, so familiar

like no other thing there are categories for,
and cannot not follow it.

Snapshots of granular moments of becoming as I work toward an aim to develop finer discrimination and attention.

Has anything ever been more clear? Anything more obscure?

How do I hold this _______________? (chaos, obscurity, grief, disorientation, restlessness, dark night of the soul…)