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photo by Jennifer Bloom


(from Within My Illusions)

It pools like molten wax.

A flame burns through the very thread that sustains it, moving slowly, steadily away from its desire,

descending deeper into the cavity of an open heart.


Much of my writing practice has been a deep dive into feeling. On the verge of being overtaken by emotion, I might choose to turn toward it rather than away. I may attend to where the feeling exists in my body, the sensations, colors, textures. I notice the stillness or movement of it. Sometimes I'll get up and dance or sing as a way to move with the energy of the feeling. Other times I doodle, draw, journal, documenting the details of what I'm feeling with openness and curiosity before assigning it a label, as though I am a student of my own human experience.

Admittedly, it can be a challenge to put away distractions and external inputs so I can listen to what's in my heart and give it the space to express. When I do, a gem of insight or wisdom often reveals itself. A poem may emerge as an artifact and I'm delighted when it does, but that is never the goal. The point is to give myself the permission to feel and to remember that all of my emotions (even the most challenging ones) are beautiful evidence of being alive. Over time I've found that more space I give for my feelings, the greater my capacity to keep my heart open to each moment, to let the depths of my longings call me forward into living more fully.

And you? What does your heart long for?

With love,


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