Noble Fire

Source Energy that creates galaxies, pours the seas into existence, carves the Grand Canyon with its wind or shapes the African tip from Cape Agulhas to the Cape of Good Hope does not care what you have been or could be. It is of no debate if you are an artist, a politician or a garbage man. The Divine does not wait for you to write a symphony or cure cancer or even ponder if you’ll stop drinking or go to therapy or walk away from that job. The Energy that has spun the Universe into existence cares only that you know who you are. A masterpiece, no less extraordinary or powerful than Niagra herself. That you came from love, are love and will return to love. Such infinite intelligence cares only that you recognize the noble fire that burns in your veins and in all life that you see. It waits in the deepest quiet for you to feel its presence in all that surrounds you. It speaks endlessly to you, knowing that you have an intuitive ear within you to hear its loving call.  For everything, all of it, even the body you walk around in was made for you. Specifically for you. What you do with this gift is up to you and only you. There is no panel of judges or Greek chorus lamenting your choices. There’s just love for you. That’s it. Love.

There is an eternal flame burning steadily in the heart of your being that joyfully wants you to walk out that front door. Regardless of your personal story or what you think is your state of happiness or lack of it. Regardless of your circumstances: poor, rich, abused, old, privileged, employed, unemployed, alone or in a full house. At the heart of you is a fire that is never diminished. Let go of everything you think you know about yourself or your history or what potential you think is or isn’t in your future. Challenge the validity of all you think lessens or blocks you. Let go and step forward. You are a child of the Universe, your time is now and that awareness is all the Energy that creates galaxies and pours seas into life is hungry for. Your awakening.


Really look deep. Take in the red and let it sink into your root chakra – fire. Allow the rich azure to settle upon you a royal crown. Draw the green into your heart on each breath and know your majesty. Feel the color filling you up, the coolest draught. Drink yourself drunk on the beauty. Now settle down. Sink your feet like tree roots into the earth. Go down, deep and dark into the fertile soil until you hit the molten core. You are exactly where you are meant to be. Breathing in the earth and breathing out love. There is a a pulse as deep in the earth as in you, waiting for you to lay your hand upon it.

Dead Things

It’s good to really look at dead things. To open oneself to a meditation on the destruction and ultimately the transformation of life. What we fear most, when examined closely, is just one more extraordinary moment of beauty in us. Death builds beauty, it doesn’t really destroy it.

No Mantra Required

I’ll confess to often getting bored. I suspect this is the well-spring of all my creative talent. Boredom. It is a cloying, needy friend who is satisfied by nothing. Pumpkin seeds are never salty enough. Shopping has never touched it. If the movie isn’t exciting by the fifth minute, boredom is wandering off in search of other stimuli. For someone so devoted to meditating for peace I can be, at times, a restless and demanding peace-seeker.

Photography, curiously enough, is one of a few creative processes that absolutely sates me. I can live in it for hours. Other’s work or my own, doesn’t matter. I love the way a photograph shifts my energy and refocuses me down whole new paths. Black and white in particular can be nostalgic or haunting, mystical or glaring. I am never so delighted then when I stumble upon a photograph that makes me stop my restlessness. Fleeting images inviting me inward and checking boredom at the door. In its own way it is a meditation, photography. The doing and the thinking, the looking and the tweaking. It calms my mind from wandering off in search of other pleasures. Without effort my heart slows and my breathing stills. No mantra required.



Bear Creek/Sims underpass: Photo by Noelle

Bear Creek/Sims underpass: Photo by Noelle

It shimmers in the dark. Brilliant and colorful. Full while silent. Stories and nothingness. A soul is a curious thing endlessly reflecting light, as it bobs upon the water.

Ephemeral Light

Ephemeral is the late afternoon sun. In autumn and spring colors are fleeting. Light passes over all life, a gentle hand grazing the tops of wheatgrass. Such a romance. Infatuated until dusk when a sliver of light caresses the earth and leaves me standing in the field.


No witch waiting on Hansel and Gretel. No sickness or evil lurking in the dark of the wood. Only a bouquet of light awaiting my arrival. So delighted I’d worn my best flannel.