Member-only story
Dom Perignon from a Plastic Cup
“Go to the wilderness and play house,” she said.
“You will see by the light of the moon.”
I wake up to birds singing and firewood splitting. The axe is sharp, like my mind after a long night’s sleep.
The taste of food is better in the forest.
Breakfast cooks on an open fire, and coffee steams from a tin cup. But coffee is not the only thing that percolates when we retreat to the woods.
We sink into Source.
keeper of wisdom
gently in stillness, you speak
swaying with the wind
The tree tops reach up to the heavens.
“Live the life you have imagined and never stop dreaming.” I hear her voice again.
Fresh air tires us out, but we row across the lake in a wooden canoe. The two-toned brown paddle is aquatic as it slices the turquoise water.
“You will hear the drumming in the distance like a mother’s heartbeat.”
The waves lap onto the rocks, and I notice I am breathing. The natural rhythm and grounding energy of the earth.
mesmerizing me
your waves crash into my shore
