Uradiance

        You are not here to blame, to judge, or to be "right." You are not here to save the world. Many have tried to save the world. They are gone yet the world is still here.  You have come for a greater purpose: to align with the golden sun of Beauty shining from the core of your chest. That is the Christ.  Resting as inner alignment allows your outer form to manifest the gift of personhood. You are not a collective. You are not a group identity.  You are here like a raindrop to make the world more beautiful by giving the Sun an exquisitely particular place to dance. You are here to embody the ocean in a tiny bead.  Nature longs to hear your local note, single in her all-pervading symphony. Without you, the harmony would not sound quite the same.  O Friend, align your body, breath, and mind with the Sun in your heart. Relax into radiance. Your gift will arise without effort, gentle as the next inhalation.  Many...

Don't tell me how embodied you are, or how hard it is to be an empath. Just feel the full moon flow through every nerve. Taste the birth of stars eight million light years away in the pulse of the blue vein in your bare foot. Let your blood atoms jangle like Radha's tiny ankle bells. Rivers of darkness flow through you, flames of flesh too wild, too lovely to name except in the language of tears, or the stab of breath  quickly taken, then slowly surrendered. Nothing blinds you  but your mind,  busy naming things. Just for tonight, let your religion be astonishment.

Can you bow like a broken necklace scattering your brightest tears? All other yoga postures Simply remove the stiffness. To bend is the first freedom. Don't just bow to the master, bow like a bee to a grain of pollen. Genuflection of a thirsty panther by a water hole at sunset. Snow melting into mountain stream laughter. Bow down to the croak of a tree frog in the jasmine vine at midnight. To the plums of September thumping the ground, showing you the way to fall, the way to split open and offer your juice. Bow to the silence of the doe who, after all, is eating your roses. Bow to the wail of the newborn American whose mother crossed over the border last night. To your own breath and the secret name in your heartbeat, bow down.  Fill the hollows of your body  with the blues of the sky. Bow so completely that you shatter your crown and sow the earth with stars.