October 15, 2015 § Leave a comment
Let it be you.
Let it be me.
Let it be us.
& Let us be free.
Ah, forgiveness. The shape of a semi-circle, arcing the bow from which we all travel through. A melodic cacophony, the essence of both human and animal, the necessity of our innate survival. We must own, we must express, and we must love our way through this world. Forgiving you, forgiving me, forgiving Him, forgiving Her.
& My other latest post for Over The Moon Magazine…
All else may follow.
That which lays here in unbounded heat —
Unchained and in the eternal protection of the flesh wound, cutting layers upon Deepening.
Click here to read the rest of “An Ode to Abundant Love”
August 29, 2015 § Leave a comment
“She rode into battle on the breath of Eagle’s lightest feather. Her confusion brewed as her stomach digested the news of her lover’s defeat. It was anger—a version of putrid, fueling emotion that drove her now. The stickiest of fingers. Flesh from the blood of his abdomen. The side of him that held her close was now forever scarred.”
Amara’s tale, continued on Over the Moon Magazine ~
August 12, 2015 § Leave a comment
My latest piece of writing for Over the Moon Magazine relates to the concept of needing, wanting, feeling & dealing with Lack. On how there is a subconscious, yet submerging aspect of life that creates the emotion of insufficiency. It is a sensation on the skin, a smell in the flowers of this life that penetrates and harbors ~ To one extreme, we fuel our existance with the inspiration of possibilities, but once that crosses over into the “more” being synonymous for happiness, there is a danger.
More. Longing. Pain. Confusion. Desire. Jealousy. Feigning.
There is nothing that defines my worth.
There is nothing that defines me, only what I choose.
Healing is a process and gentleness is an overlooked remedy. Trust that you are enough. That you are worthy.
That you, my dear, always have a choice.
July 22, 2015 § Leave a comment
“There is honey in the temple, said She. Sweet, flowing nectar.
It pours from the abandoned fountain, to the north of His land.
Shielded in grace by the flight of daytime doves, and protected
Through patrol of night crow.
She who wanders may be pulled to the Oasis of fluidity.
Scrambling terra of Acacia trees & sagebrush, finding her path
Amongst those who have traveled before, with arms open, to the
Medicine of Heart.
What is there for me? She may ask,
As the leather unbinds from her Soul, a material cast
Gently from Father’s hands, by Mother’s love, knowing
That they, too, will become undone…”
| Continue reading on Over the Moon Magazine |
June 28, 2015 § 3 Comments
I just returned from a journey unlike any other that I have experienced.
Spending four weeks in the birthplace of the world by participating in my Birthright trip, then traveling solo & visiting family throughout this incredibly diverse country.
My mind has barely begun to slow down. Endless amounts of processing what I have seen, heard, felt and [mis]understood.
I am humbled in gratitude ~ For each person in that land is truly a reflection of the Divine. To some, Israel may be a holy land of time’s past, surfacing an image of war-torn and lack of safety. And it is true that I did not travel to the depths of the Gaza strip, or to Hebron- the Tomb of the Patriarchs|Matriarchs in the West Bank.
But regardless, there is a web of pride connecting the citizens of Israel, especially apparent in the younger generation.
My cousin posed the question, “Does it not scare you that the 18 year olds protect this country? Is it not angering that the risk of war is forced, that young men and women die to protect this land? Is it not strange to you, coming from the states, that everyone goes into the army?”
I linger in a state of ambivalence as to what I believe.
I return, time and time again, to the face of the man in the marketplace wondering if my red hair symbolized my knowledge of the bloodshed of this land.
& I replied in honesty, that I do not know the cost of a young life. I realize I am as ignorant as the rest, an ‘educated’ middle class white american Jew, traveling to Israel on “Taglit” to experience the wonders of the Holy Land. My thoughts waver, containing opinions irrelevant and not enough information to respond to my cousins question, or my Own.
But I am not embarrassed. It is in this acknowledgment that I may grow, and try my best to stop perpetuating the vision of idealism or extremism of this country.
I may not know what I believe, yet I know what I feel.
What makes my stomach churn, or my shoulders broaden & heart beat. It is the people of this land, the genuine kindness of each woman and man that I was graced with. It is their stories that I will sing home.
Because when I think of what I believe, it is in Humanity.
With this, here is my most recent article for Over The Moon Magazine,
reflecting on my time in Israel.
April 28, 2015 § 4 Comments
Many people have been asking me lately of my passions. Of what makes my heart stir and flutter like the wings of a baby bird learning to fly. I tell them, I want to bare my soul. That I have a deep, inner longing to share. To reveal what is not always pretty.
But what is true.
Which is why I believe that words can heal. Language speaks to the heart wings in a different way than other art forms, although they are all outlines for the same frame.
There is an intricate part of growth that is missed when we lack the revolutionary power of authentic storytelling. I have noticed the mask’s journey into fading once surrounded by pen & paper. By writing our own unique stories, whether ‘truth’ or ‘fiction’, we behold an opportunity to translate them from the perspective of a witness. To take one’s self out of the picture, creating space for the Self that moves within the letters.
I want to create a space for the unfolding of these stories. The ones that are held inside, the ones that others have trampled over, leaving nothing but the question of footprints. I want to hear the stories that you have told yourself, once or many, rehearsed in your head in the dark of a sleepless night. I want us to share.
A quiet revolution. Beginning with one page, or even one word.
Write yourself clean.
With this, I offer my newest piece for Over the Moon Magazine ~
Visionary Credit // Lindsey Erin Luna
March 15, 2015 § Leave a comment
Clinging to life is a skill learned.
Bred into fear, following needs unmet
Scarcity longs for choice.
It is the choice of Own.
A process of New, freedom from the very
Of false hope requirements.
Are we not, inherently worthy?
Able to See, to Decide, to Love
In the liberty that loss brings
A life clung is a life unlearned.
The lens drenched,
Fault in fog
A pattern’s return.
Are we not, already in chains?
Birthed into a mold of doing
Forgiving mistakes, forgetting to
We are hung by lingering in
The bodies memory, attaching.
Synchronizing defeat to the heart’s
The hour of panic claims its victim
Begging for comfort, seeking
An indulgence of habit.
What is to become, of the life unlearned?
I choose to reap my reprieve.