To be a cat

There was a time when I would lament—and by that I mean cry like a baby—that I wasn’t a cat. It’s a running joke now, but I‘m serious. This was early on in my dark night of grief and burnout. I would look at these two magnificent creatures who wandered Read more…

Shapeshifting

In an exchange with @lauraleerussell on my last post I remarked how my encounter with the swallows and the eagle the other day evoked something my Akashic Records asked me years ago about why I kept choosing to be a hummingbird when I could also choose to be a condor, lord Read more…