When The Aryas Descend

It's 3:30am. I walk in solitude outside my home, hemmed in by the tempo of synchroncity, a blur of fireworks still flirting like fingertips on a rosary mala. I hear the lifting of a veil and a quiet ping of spirits. They settle within the entwined echoes of my footsteps lost on a empty road wet with pre-dawn mist. They haunt with temptuous mystery, my drifting reveries with blessed caresses lightly dancing in the air all around this dark morning ...... spirits sacred in the boughs of lemon pine and the air-filled incense of offerings to the Jade Emperor. They stay close to me on this now lonely morn of semi-meditative movement, until my own spirit rises up to join in a celebration of dance. And when the spiritual whispers hit a single high note, our spirits slip effortlessly into a timbre of the holy space where mystery dwells in the ancient grace of mercy.



In a samsaric world without end, we moved like spirits in the night.....together. It made all the difference.
OM AH HUM






"Walk on a trail of loving kindness
Walk on a path of compassion
And all else around you will be beautiful."
Every Blessing