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J O U R N A L

Welcome, dear ones to the whispering of our souls.
These notes belong to all of us, as they were borne from the universal fabric of our shared humanity.
As we write we honor our collective consciousness, and as we read we connect with the oneness of our vast experiences.
​May you feel the strength of our tribe within these words.

Making space

8/20/2017

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Picture
I find myself settled on a bluff by the ocean,
Learning the meaning of hold, give, and take.
I listen in wonder with pen upon paper to the
Whispers my soul speaks as each word finds it’s place.

I hold space for my spirit through breath and by listening,
​My mind purposely languid and wandering and free.
By engaging each instant, attentive and wondering,
I feel atmosphere opening, yawning before me.
In the moment I’m grateful for this lesson in holding.
That the harrowing grip which I’ve clutched for so long
Has a counterpart that’s more like summer and wheat fields,
Like cradling a child to sleep in my arms.
I learn holding with love beats controlling. And really,
The truth is the harder we squeeze then we fail
At the one thing we know to be true here - our oneness -
Which I breathe into being each precious inhale.

I give space to my children, freewheeling and lovely,
Floating in water profound, deep, and blue.
I watch through blurred eyes and find only perfection,
Reflections of love - understanding that through
My own silence, my stillness, my trust in their being,
I give space to their brotherhood, peace, and pure hearts.
I learn not to hover, nor expect the next conflict,
That in foretelling a fallout I force them apart.
I learn freeing them frees me. We are safe and unfailing.
I learn that this giving feels like letting go.
This new resonant truth in the core of my being
Pulses warm in my veins urging, “Grow mama, grow.”

I take space with my body, expansive and gilded,
Without an apology, pardon, or pause.
I think not of the should-be’s, the ideals of others,
Or the voices of ego and mind that have caused
My past heartache, past hatred, and self-separation
From the soul that I know as my singular truth.
Instead I stand rooted to this present moment, the well
Which bears knowing, self-love, and sound proof
Of perfection in being just here as I am
In this minute. And this one. And now. Here again.  
I’ve arrived in my body, my temple, my home.
I’m awake now, surrendered to paths yet unknown.
​
Catalina Island, CA
©​Anjale Perrault 2017
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