There is a child in all of us, and the child in me knows what he wants. In this episode I explore what brings me joy and why. Then, I arrive at a realization that I had not intended to find. My eyes are his eyes, and his eyes are open. I love you little Julian.

I am a work of art: a body held together by soul, moved by mind, and fueled by heart. What of the mess of the creative process? Peace. Peace casts light on all moments allowing all to pass. The Sun is a source of light, and I am one of it’s children.

As I walk through the valley of peace, I see myself in the distance. He is longing. He is loving. He is he, and I am me. I keep walking. I let be.

The cycle of the eight armed octopus spinning outward is a journey I have traveled. One arm out, two arms in, and all others changing position until all is taken in. The recoil. The moment where nothing is done and dormancy takes place. Silence, suffering, healing, or the gathering of hope? Why is this state the state I find myself in. Move body. Move.

Open eyes. Up from the spirit into the heart of the mind moving the body forward. “I see,” I said.

My dreams are coming true. Now, I ask you. How do we do it again? This is for my hometown of Philadelphia. I love you!

There is a voice speaking at all times. Do you listen, or turn away to walk astray. Inlay new ears and eyes. SURPRISE!!!! Growth. Growth comes when you hears you. I am who is speaking or seeking better days.

The hero has come, and he wears the mask of me. I’ll let it be. The past has gone, and today is new. I knew the time was right. The time to call myself out for self harm. Prevention of self inflicted abuse is key. Let be. Let be the safety.

Letter to my love, myself, my other. For too long I lived without holding a space for self love. In this episode I share my poem My First Love Letter where I explore the beauty of time well spent eating cheesesteaks and taking random pictures. A week gone by culminates with writing from the chest.

Sometimes the knot of self does not need to be untied. It may just need to be as one travels over the bumps of life; jostled free naturally. Let it be. Let it be until the feeling passes.