sum ergo sum

William a sweet man I used to visit in elderly care facility in Denver Colorado 16 years ago.  He was an intelligent whitty pistol.  He was playing chess when I met him. We walked back to his room for a visit while his chess mates where heckling him. He liked the attention. We visited for only a short time I don’t even remember what we talked about only that I held his hand as he talked and in my mind I would imagine love flowing from my heart to his. I loved doing this, it would make the visits so pleasant.  I visited only three times and that was it, he was gone.  The night William died I dreamt about him.  I was walking into his room delivering daisies, his favorite flower. He got out of his bed and thanked me for coming then walked to the door and said it was time to go. We smiled at eachother and that was it. I woke from the dream to see it was 3:12am The next day I went to visit with daisies and I was informed that William had died in the night some time after 3am.

Hospice~ Many years ago I volunteered for hospice in Denver Colorado, I was in my 20s. There was a sweet man I used to visit. The first time I walked into his room he called me Lorraine. I introduced my self as Sariah your new visitor; assuming that Lorraine was his last volunteer. He told me later that Lorraine was his first love and she was the one person he would wish to see before he died. They were young lovers before the war. Thinking of her got him through that terrible time. He promised he would marry her when he came back, she promised she would wait. He returned to find his precious love had left to marry another and start a little family. They never talked again but he still loved her with all his heart. After his full life of family, work, hobbies, whatever the only thought left was Loraine. How I fit into the picture is that I looked exactly like Lorraine. I show up in the last minutes of his life on his death-bed as the woman he had always loved, the

Practice practice practice Only those who risk going too far can truly find out how far they can go. Pushing to the edges of your limitations, having the courage to look at your self exactly as you are, and learning to accept all of it. Loving completely.  This gives a gentile way about you and an acceptance of others. In turn allows the others to be ok with who they are, exactly where they are. Allowing is key, what comes up is what comes up, but not fighting against it. Let “it” flow through you. Allowing the experience to permeate your soul keeping an open heart.  Breathe , Always breathing the breath is the cord that keeps you connected to your higher self to the entire universe, it is the doorway to all that is and all that ever was. Your mother had to breathe you into this physical realm. You must connect with your breath to move through your experiences with ease. Open heart .   Intending, allowing your heart to remain open at all ti

Art is the soul expressing itself Movement is my art. I’ve been searching for years for my special talent, my own expression. All along its been right here with me. My body. I have discovered that when I allow it to move to music there is such a sweet connection to an inner power and delight. I have developed a love for the edge of what my body is capable of and a curiosity for what is possible today. It is so intriguing how that edge is constantly changing. I have learned to breathe into the corners of my movement and they stretch. I have learned to embrace discomfort, as I know resistance is the thing that will allow me to grow stronger. Acceptance is the most important part of this equation, being able to accept my whole self completely. Saying kind words to my skin and muscles and organs has allowed me to cultivate a special relationship with this miraculous vehicle I am living in. Every step I take is my art.

Tiff Having a little tiff, an experience of discomfort and friction. Immediately I check in and try to think of this event as a catalyst to my own personal growth. I play a game with my self and imagine my heart staying open no matter what. I see the event as a thing and place that thing in my open chest letting my heart process the thing as I sit quietly and allow the remnants flow through my cells and evaporate off my skin. Some times I get stuck, I repeat the scenario over and over until I can catch my obsessive monkey mind and change my thoughts. Some times I have to play the “what if” game. I imagine all the millions of other possible scenarios that could have been me. This world is truly a magnificent mystery. With so many thrilling stories and happenings. I could have been born on another continent, or another gender, I could have been disabled, deaf, blind. My birth parents could of abandoned me or beat me. I could have been indoctrinated into a satanic cult that