By Paulo Wayne
My cousin only meditates after emptying a bottle of whiskey and putting his cowboy boots on. He is convinced that challenges help him to become one with god. Whenever he drinks, he calls me saying that he will move to Brazil and get married with a local yoga instructor. Today, he told me he had seen his future wife during meditation. One day, his drinking habits will put him in trouble. I imagine him being arrested for setting his mattress on fire or for kissing a stranger. It’s a shame because there is nothing more beautiful than a free soul.
“When I was a kid, my grandmother gave a typewriter for my birthday. From that day on, I haven’t stopped writing … I write on the subway, in the car. I write before going to sleep.” – the writer
By Michelle Kinder
I clear my vessel daily so that the base note of what I’m here to do cuts through all the treble in me and in the world.
I fearlessly welcome what comes through that clear vessel – especially the unexpected.
I invite childlike joy in myself and others.
I befriend stillness. Release. Surrender. Relax. Breathe. I say no. I say yes.
I spend my political capital – grounded in abundance, safety and goodwill.
I elevate, amplify and learn from voices that need to be heard.
I add my verse to the powerful play – never from ego, always from spirit.
Michelle Kinder writes “to make sense of my experience and to play where my growth and my courage intersect.” Her writing has appeared in outlets including TIME, Washington Post, Dallas Morning News, Vita Brevis, and The Huffington Post.
By Ian Fletcher
The old bishop sat alone in the choir an hour before the service and wept.
It had been a harsh winter. More infants and children in the parish had died than usual.
Seeing the little coffins at the burials had pushed him over the edge of doubt.
How could a loving God oversee such suffering and loss?
The cathedral’s nave slowly filled. The congregation awaited.
Was he still worthy to preach to his flock about the resurrection and salvation?
His heart and spirit were broken.
Yet he rose.
Seeing the multitude before him, he delivered the sermon of his life.
“I write to capture my reflections on life and share them with others.” – the author
By Roy Gomez
We stood in the first pew, before the altar. As an usher approached, offering a brotherly hand — which signifies Christian Fellowship, you know — my friends and I didn’t dare to even glance at each other. I stretched my arm. Slipped him this mannequin’s hand I’d found and let it go. We tittered. We could’ve cracked up. Only the usher scowled: Did I believe Jesus thought this was funny? Yes. Why not? After all those years, nailed to that cross, I’d imagined He would. Turning, raising my eyes, feeling a smidgen of His sorrow again, I still believed it. Laugh, Jesus!
R. Gomez has been kicking words around for a while. He lives with his wife and pets on a hillside overlooking Medina Lake directly in the center of the Milky Way.
By Kelvin M. Knight
He pirouetted through oceanic whiteness, leaving ripples of himself. Drifting through these, she gasped at the softness of his touch. A touch bursting with promise: that dance he’d promised her but she’d always been too busy to accept. Back then. Back there. Where cares were weighty. Where duty outweighed sin. Where their love went unrecognized. Because of him. Because of her. Shuddering, she delighted as his essence entwined with hers. Him. Always him. Her true love. Her guiding light. He was dancing with her. Finally. Undeniably. Swishing skyward, they stirred this whiteness into a home that had always been theirs.
By All Natural Spirit
It’s all those little things you know,
that you tend to let fester so,
and now they seem to just grow and grow.
Beware, because you’ll find yourself in a raging fit,
where everything around seems a deep dark pit.
Choose what you let touch your soul,
and soon you’ll see that you’ve a new goal,
this is to accept, move forward
and to let all those little things go.