THE MORNING POEM
Last night the rain spoke to me.
Last night the rain spoke to me.
Written to mark, within time, the endless journey of returning to the One. June 6, 1986 Beneath the wounded places, beneath the stories, beneath the contractions of fear and survival, there exists a presence that has never been harmed..
Written to mark, within time, the endless journey of returning to the One. June 6, 1986 beneath the wounded places, beneath the stories, beneath the contractions of fear and survival, there exists a presence that has never been harmed..
For love, there are no preferences
Healing does not begin with effort. It begins with presence. This reflection explores the healing field—a quiet reality beneath thought, where separation softens, the nervous system settles, and love quietly remembers itself.