"Love tells me I am everything; wisdom tells me I am nothing; In between the two, my life flows."



The essence of a ritual is repetition –
whether a vow, or a farewell,
whether a poem, or a grocery list,

The essence of ritual is repetition.

Then, what, one may ask, is the essence of repetition?

Is it prayer or automation?

Like the breath, which rises and falls, flows and stalls,
like the mind, which buds and blooms, grows and wilts,

it is an intelligence rooted in oneness, expressed as difference,
and revered as the beautiful, the ornamental, and the goddess.

Then, one bows to life as one bows to love –
fully and freely,
with awe and wonder,
gravity and gratitude,
sobriety and intoxication,
sweet elation and sweeter sorrow.

Movement becomes a dance of wholeness, and madness –
a celebration of passion.

We stand- both alone & together – on the precipice of all time – images bursting like butterflies out of a beehive – the color of magnificence.

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