WILDFIRE – opening into inter-beingness

WILDFIRE – opening into inter-beingness

God blooms from the shoulder of the
elephant who becomes courteous
to the ant.

Translated by Daniel Ladinsky


In driving through an area where there had been devastated by wildfires two years earlier, I had expected to see an ashy and charred expanse.  Instead, there was an abundance of new life showing up in a variety of stages of regeneration, ranging from wildflower meadows and grasslands to vibrant shrubbery sporting every hue of green.

Had I slowed down and tuned into the even subtler signs of renewal, likely my nose, ears, and skin would have been overwhelmed with a multiplicity of expressions of renewal.  Still, there was ample potency within just what my eyes could absorb.  Certainly, I felt stirrings of relief that seemingly bleak circumstances continue to carry the possibility of thriving inter-beingness.

The natural cycles and phenomena of earthly existence continually express such possibility.  Small beings such as insects live among elephants and other large forms of life.  The seasons yield one to the other as do the ocean waves.  Microbes and worms quietly shape the ground free of concepts such as nationality or ownership.

Our longest living human cultures, as well as prophets and sages, reverently hold the wisdom of wholeness and inter-beingness.  In turn, this wisdom lovingly embraces all life.  Like the sun, it illumines freely and endlessly.  Yet, as with the sun, e.g., in solar and lunar eclipses, during nighttime, and on cloudy days, this wisdom can appear absent in bleakness.

Fortunately, nature is an ever-present reminder that we live in the midst of abiding, sacred wisdom.  This earthly home is where we learn to truly love, forgive, and humbly release our micro-habits of judgment, hate, greed, and superiority.   The timeless qualities of wisdom are woven into nature, such as the resilience born out of the wildfire, wordlessly sharing teachings on ways to rediscover customs to live together with courtesy and reverence.


This practice supports awareness of sacred inter-beingness.


  • Seated, place your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands.
    • Note:  If are wearing glasses, please consider supporting your head with your hands on your forehead, or removing your glasses.
    • If this strains your back, please place your elbows on a higher surface such as a table.
  • Let the weight of your head be heavy in your hands.
  • Imagine all your tension is releasing and flowing out through your fingers.
  • Breathe without forcing the breath, i.e., as easily and freely as comfortable.


  • Slowly, allow yourself to return to an upright, seated position.  Continue to imagine tension draining out of your facial muscles, your eyes, and your scalp.  Imagine it flowing easefully out through your arms and fingers.
  • Move fluidly through your torso, neck and arms.  Imagine you are moving in the ocean of loving, sacred wisdom.  Then, imagine you are an integral part of this wisdom – not separate, but an expression of loving beauty, reverence, and joy.
  • Slowly, come to standing and move in any way where you feel you are innately expressing lovingness, kind gentleness, and compassion to the surface beneath you and space around you.
  • Then, still standing, move as though this lovingness and other sweet, peaceful qualities are being shared and absorbed in every cell in your body.  Follow your instincts.  You may feel inclined to stretch, hug, or even kiss parts of your body.
  • Move in a way that feels like a joyous appreciation of the vast inner ecology of your being – tissues, cells, organs, bones, emotions, memory, breath, and more.
  • Then, imagine – if it doesn’t come naturally to you to feel aliveness in all life – your surroundings are as vibrantly alive as you are.  Again, move with this awareness of inter-beingness held within and expressing abiding, loving wisdom.
  • Come to stillness, standing.  Breathe and just notice the ground beneath you offering ease and stability, your bones offering ease and stability, and your breath offering ease and stability.

Transition Back into Your Day— 

  • When you are ready, come to a seated position.
  • Sit quietly for several minutes, in any way that is comfortable.
  • Bring your palms together in front of your chest and bow your head in gratitude for the sacredness of earthly life, perhaps vowing to live with more awareness of the pulse of sacred inter-beingness and the grace of courtesy and reverence in everyday gestures and speech.
  • Allow your hands to relax in your lap.  With a soft, loving gaze, slowly look around where you are – up, down, side to side, and perhaps behind you.
  • Then, when you are ready, return to your day with renewed awareness of wholeness.


This poem appears in Mala of the Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, page 15, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.  HEARTH is posted each new and full moon.  KateVogt©2022.



The Natural Commons

The Natural Commons

God is a pure no-thing,
concealed in now and here:
the less you reach for him,
the more he will appear.

Angelus Silesius


A recent visit to a nearby beach brought a welcome pause from the war that humanity seems to be having with itself in so many realms.  This wasn’t the usual beach hiatus, with a feeling of getting away from reality.  Instead, it was a mini-immersion in the true fullness of life.

Being a public beach, it had a sense of wildness, with logs and seaweed strewn across the sand.  Seals glided in and out of the waves while geese flew above in their supportive formation of a “v,” allowing them to more easefully migrate in synchronicity.  Ladybugs crept near the shore.  Gophers peeked their heads out from their underground burrows near the shrubbery along the edges of the beach.  And, in the midst of all this, there were hundreds of humans of all shapes, ages, skin colors, mobilities, and sizes.

It was a tiny glimpse of the wild where all life belongs, and has always belonged.  There were no lines of demarcation.  Every being – human and non-human – was part of this microcosm of earth.   This included not just the moveable beings, but also the seemingly inanimate, such as the grains of sand, droplets of water, and air particles.   Within the communing, sharing, and inter-dynamic influencing, there was a sense of vital wholeness.

This experiential wholeness is awkward to express in the English language, which relies on nouns dividing the world into independent entities and things, i.e., subjects and objects. Yet, beautiful poetry and prose, even in translation, often finds a way to artfully convey the essence of integrated wholeness.  Ancient living languages, at least as I’ve understood them, vibrantly pulse within the unfolding of aliveness in their relational expression.

Still, even with the challenge of sharing through words, there is a vibrant richness in the memory of being in the midst of, and part of, the universal commons of the public beach.  Within that, striving, categorizing, and conquering, are void currencies.   I found renewed hope in this mini-glimpse of “God is a pure no-thing, concealed in now and here” as offered by the Polish poet Angelus Silesius.


This practice supports awareness of letting go and allowing spaciousness. 


  • Either standing or seated, gently and fluidly move your torso, as though you are plankton in the water.  Invite a sense of loosening up in your spine.  Feel free to softly hum – a song, the sound of bees, or whatever feels comfortable.  Do this as long as you wish, yet try for at least 30 seconds.
  • Slowly, come to stillness in your torso.
  • Imagine as though unneeded tension is releasing out through your skin and being quietly received and absorbed in the spaciousness around you.  Invite your breath to be easeful and supportive.


  • Seated.
  • Allow the tension to continue to release around the front and back of your spine, your face and head, your throat and shoulders.
    • If you find an area in your body which feels particularly tense, invite gentle, easeful movement around the surrounding area.  Perhaps hum softly as you do this, imagining the sound is caressing that area and inviting release.
  • Hold your hands in front of you with your palms facing you.  Nod your head slightly as you lift your hands up toward your face.  Then place your hands over your eyes after removing glasses, if you are wearing them.
    • If comfortable, allow the heels of your palms to gently rest on your closed eyelids and your fingers to gently cradle your forehead with your fingertips resting over the top of your head.  Allow the surface and backs of your eyes to relax backward toward the center of your skull.  Breathe here for a few breaths.
  • Invite your hands to release away from your face into your lap.  Relax across the back of your tongue and the entire inner space of your mouth, including the roots of your teeth.  Allow tension to continue to release as you inhale freely and invite a little longer, smoother exhalation.  As the breath moves outward, notice the subtle sound of hum it passes through your throat and out through your nostrils.  Take six or more breaths here.
  • With your eyes closed or open in a soft gaze, invite in a feeling of spaciousness within you.   Perhaps invite an awareness of your inner space as a vast, boundless, clear sky.  Slowly imagine that every cell of your body is spacious, free of tension, free of clinging.  Invite an easeful breath as you gradually allow this feeling of inner spaciousness.
  • When you feel ready to transition back into your day, invite a few smooth, long inhalations while allowing the exhale to flow freely outward.  Stretch your arms out into a v-position, and smile.

Transition Back into Your Day— 

  • Sit quietly for several minutes, in any way that is comfortable.
  • Then, when you are ready, return to your day with renewed awareness of wholeness.


This poem appears in Mala of the Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, page 19, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.  HEARTH is posted each new and full moon.  KateVogt©2022.




SHADOWS – inviting wholeness

SHADOWS – inviting wholeness

If God
invited you to a party and
said, “Everyone in the ballroom tonight will
be my special
how would you then treat them when you arrived?
Indeed, indeed!
And Hafiz knows that there is no one in
this world who is not standing upon
His jeweled dance

Translated by Daniel Ladinsky

It was an early Spring morning.  The sun was still low in the sky, yet had already begun to bring warmth into the neighborhood.  A steamy mist was rising off the sidewalks and rooftops, and the few people who were already out walking or jogging were lightly dressed.  Overall, the warmth felt welcoming and prompted me to take a short stroll through a nearby park.

The park area seemed particularly magical on this spring morning.  Long, slender silhouettes stretched across the pathway.  They were uniformly angled, forming the appearance of someone having made large, even brushstrokes across the earth.  It gave the appearance of a musical staff, holding the notes for an invisible song offered by the redwood trees and their shadowed shapes.

As I walked along the pathway, my own shadow blended with that of the trees, and then re-emerged separately.  There was no song to be heard, but I felt my step get a little more nimble and reverent.   Instinctively, I became aware of the constant making and relinquishing sense of being an autonomous individual within each step and each breath.  This I-ness is an ongoing part of an earthly concert along with the trees, earth, waters, atmosphere, and light as well as other mobile beings – human and non-human.

While shadows are normally associated with the ominous and unrealized aspects of life, this experience reminded me of the ever-presence of shadows.  Even our way of tracking time could be said to have its roots in humans observing their shadows at different times of the day, and eventually inventing sun dials.  Shadows have different lengths depending upon the tilt of the earth, such as when it is tilted away, the midday shadows are longer.  The time for sleeping is commonly when our side of the earth is shadowed.  As the earth and moon pass through space they cast shadows, causing different eclipses.

The graceful silhouettes of the redwood trees and other shadows reveal the ever-presence of light.  Without the light, there would be no shadows; however, should humanity solely embrace the shadow as independent and un-needing of light, then perhaps there is a danger that the ominous aspect of the shadow will predominate, and we will become lost in the darkness.

I will endeavor to remember the sacred song holding all life together, in offering and receiving, in the shadow and the light, in wholeness.  As the poet Hafiz offers, all are standing in a sacred place in the universe.  I hope to heed his inspiration.


This practice supports awareness of duality within wholeness.


  • Either standing or seated, place your hands on your waist. Gently lengthen through your spine.
  • Move your spine a little forward and back: rounding slightly forward – enough so you feel a little broadening in your upper back; coming upright and then gently moving your shoulder blades toward one another, creating a slight leaning back in your upper body.  Breathe as you do this.  Repeat two or three times.
  • To the comfort level of your shoulder mobility, move your right arm up alongside your right ear. With an exhale, tilt laterally to your left, creating a gentle opening along your right ribs.   Breathe a couple breaths, then return to center with both hands on your waist.  Repeat with your left arm up and tilting to your right.
  • Relax your hands and arms, allowing them to be in a comfortable position. Lift your right foot and rotate your right ankle around a few times in each direction.  Gently shake out through that leg.  Bring the foot down and pause.  Repeat with your left foot.
  • If you are standing, come to a seated position.


  • Allow your left ear to tilt a little to your left shoulder.  With a smooth, easy breath, invite ease and relaxation into the right side of your face, neck, and entire right side of your both.  Perhaps invite an inner smile.  Bring your head gently to center and repeat on the other side.
  • With a gentle lift in your spine, imagine as though you are balanced evenly between your right and left side and front and back of your body, limbs and head.
  • Invite a smooth, even in-breath through both nostrils while softening through the front and center of your throat and across your torso. Pause slightly before allow the breath to quietly flow outward, again through both nostrils.  Pause again slightly before receiving the next in-breath.
  • Repeat this gentle, even breath six times. Use a smooth, even pace with the feeling “I am whole.”  “I am balanced.”  Front, back, and sides are continually nourished with the receiving and offering of the breath.  With each breath, all is breathing.  The trees breath in as mobile beings breath out, and vice versa.

Transition Back into Your Day—

  • Sit quietly for several minutes, in any way that is comfortable.
  • Bring your palms together in front of your chest and bow your head in gratitude for this sacred earthly concert of life, perhaps vowing to live more lightly and with more awareness of the power of kindness within everyday gestures and speech.
  • Allow your hands to relax in your lap. With a soft, loving gaze, slowly look around where you are – up, down, side to side, and perhaps behind you.
  • Then, when you are ready, return to your day with renewed awareness of wholeness.


This poem appears in Mala of the Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, page 95, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.  HEARTH is posted each new and full moon.  KateVogt©2022.



Grace of Dew

Grace of Dew

What they undertook to do
They brought to pass;
All things hang like a drop of dew
Upon a blade of grass.

W. B. Yeats


It may be difficult to find hope in the swirl of contemporary events; yet, the rhythms of the seasons and day and night continue.  Here, in northern California, dew magically arrives overnight.  Although tiny and almost imperceptible, dew carries countless messages of hope.

Dew feels like the voice of divine grace.  These ephemeral watery beads are living expressions of the temporariness of each moment, each life.  Almost indiscernibly they appear and then disappear.  Their fullness glistens in the early morning light, allowing us a glimpse of impermanence as a precious gift to be treasured with each breath, step, and gesture.

The glimmering allows a momentary portal for noticing how the presence of dew quickens withered leaves.  Hardened soil softens.  Without bruising or harming, dew gently – and freely – offers moistness to all.   The gracious softness blossoms into countless gifts of beauty and nourishment for other beings.  Each translucent drop offers the promise of abundance, regeneration, and transformation.

In his praise to teachers, the poet Yeats offers a nod toward the magnanimity of dew.   In these times, I feel drawn to more intimacy with wordless messages of the divine that are written into the everyday landscape.  Dew, sunrise, sunset, mountains, rivers, oceans, insects, birds, and other sacred manifestations model ways to live and be. I feel these living beings are timeless teachers inviting humans to be in relationship with oneself, one another, and all life.

Dew has endless lessons, such as the power of interconnectivity, transience, lightness, and equality.  It also invites a connection with moisture, and during these times, the dew of the eyes.  And, when spelled in reverse, dew is wed, offering inspiration for life to be loving marriage between heaven and earth.



This practice supports awareness of sadness and dewy eyes. 


  • Find a location free of interruptions for about ten minutes.  Allow yourself to settle into a relaxed position – e.g., seated on a chair or on the floor, resting on your back.
  • Allow yourself to tune into the support of the earth beneath you.  Then, invite your body to relax into the supportive awareness that the earth supports all life forms.
  • Gently place your hands over your face with your fingertips lightly resting on your eyelids.  Invite your senses to take a mini vacation – your eyes can soften and look inward; the back of our tongue can relax with no need to speak for the next several minutes; and, your skin can just sense the quiet support of the earth.
  • After a few breaths, remove your hands from your face and allow them to rest over your heart center in any way that is comfortable.  Invite some easefulness into your breath.
  • Allow the weight of your hands to be like the dew, lightly resting on your chest.


  • Allow yourself to notice your general state of your emotional being. No judgement, just feeling and noticing.  Your senses and body are relaxed.
    • Please note:  If you discover that you are feeling extra vulnerable, anxious or uncomfortable, I recommend you skip this and the remaining part of this practice.  Instead, I recommend you return your awareness to the support of the earth beneath you, and the light touch of your hands on your chest, allowing yourself to notice the gentle movement of the breath.
  • With your hands placed wherever they are comfortable, scan back through your body, senses and breath while inviting ease throughout.  Breathe there for several breaths.
  • Then, slowly, slowly invite a connection to the feeling of sadness.  Just noticing the qualities of sadness, where you feel it in your body, senses, or breath – noticing without judgment, allowing yourself to sincerely explore this emotion.   Perhaps allow for moisture – a dewiness – to form in your eyes.  Stay here for a few breaths – inhaling in, exhaling out.
    • To aid your connection to sadness, you may wish to recall what gives rise to this universal emotion: for world events, those who don’t have enough food, water, or shelter, personal loss or losses, or general sorrow.
  • Transition your hands to your belly, allowing them to lightly rest there.  Breathe in.  Breath out.  On your inhalation, invite in understanding and compassion.  On your exhalation, invite understanding and compassion to lightly settle in every cell in your body – like dew on the grass.  Breathe here for a few breaths.

Transition Back into Your Day— 

  • Stretch out.  Imagine as you stretch that you are stretching understanding and compassion outward to the earth, the sky, and all beings.
  • Relax from your stretch.  Imagine as you relax, the dew of understanding and compassion has settled everywhere.
  • Reach your hands to the opposite shoulders and give yourself a hug.  Smile.  Imagine you are both whispering and hearing the words, “Thank you.  I love you.”
  • Pause.  When you are ready, return to your day.


This poem appears in Mala of the Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, page 28, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.   Photo by Josuha Hoehne.  HEARTH is posted each new and full moon.  KateVogt©2022.

Ancient and timeless wisdom is more relevant than ever!  Join me in virtual classes for in depth study in how to focus your inner vision toward peaceful wholeness.



Autumn Surrender

Autumn Surrender

What they undertook to do
They brought to pass
All things hang like a drop of dew
Upon a blade of grass.
W.B. Yeats

Signs of autumn are seemingly everywhere.  The sun is setting earlier and rising later.  Cooler temperatures are beginning to settle in.  And, the leaves on the deciduous trees have become so brilliantly red and yellow that I’ve gone searching in my closet for blouses with similar hues, and finding some tucked behind the pastel pinks and blues.  Likewise with food:  the colors are shifting from the brighter greens to deeper shades in fruits and vegetables.

More than any other season, fall now reminds me of the sacred grace of surrender.  Perhaps it is because in the Northern Hemisphere, there is this easing from a season of growth to one of hibernation.  Like a long exhale, the plants abundantly yield into the beginning of a new cycle and the sustenance of other living beings.  In the letting go, openness seeps in, and light becomes more visible between the bare branches and withering stems.

As a child, this season was mostly a time of new beginnings and looking forward.  Preceding the expected new lessons was a much-anticipated visit to the local drug store for school supplies, which were then pencils and notebooks.   Still, I had some tethers to the timeless rhythms of the generosity that comes with releasing and letting go.  In the agricultural community where I grew up, harvesting was in the gardens and in the fields.  Regardless of whether scarce or plentiful, there was a tending to that what was and preparing for unknown possibility for next year.

Similar to the fall fruits, the insight of W.B. Yeats and other sage poets nourishes future generations – albeit the psyche and the soul rather than the physical body of others.  I feel the bittersweet messages of the autumn season is symbolically reflected within his poem “Gratitude for Unknown Teachers.”  There is a suspension between hope and foreboding, permanence and impermanence and known and unknown, as well as the inevitable disappearance of clinging into surrender.

This short practice celebrates autumn.

Prepare – 

  • Turn your phone and any other devices to airplane mode.
  • Standing, gently shake out one limb at a time.   Then, lightly bounce in place with a soft bend in your knees and slight lifting and lowering of your heels.

Practice – 

  • Placing your hands over your heart center one hand over the other.
    • With your hands over your heart, invite your awareness to shift to your breath.
      • Perhaps begin by noticing the movements associated with your breathing, e.g., the gentle sensation of expanding and softening of your rib cage.
      • Then, if comfortable, perhaps let your attention shift to allowing your exhalations to slowly lengthen a bit more than your inhalations.
        • If this doesn’t feel accessible to you at this time, please no worries.
      • If you have a cold or allergies, or have any other condition related to your comfort with your respiratory system, please adjust the breathing part of this practice as needed.
    • Slowly, sweep your arms out to your sides and upward.  As you do this, inhale.
      • If possible, synchronize your breath within the movement, i.e., begin your inhalation, moving, and finishing the movement before you complete your inhalation.
    • As you exhale, bring your palms together and down to your heart center.
    • Repeat three times.   After the third time, repeat this again with the option of folding forward on the exhalation and rising back to standing on the inhalation.
      • If you choose the option, please stay mindful of your own body as well as the continued relationship between the breath and the movement.
  • Standing, place your hands over your heart center, one hand over the other.
    • Invite three smooth, even breaths.
    • Continue breathing, adding the following movement on the exhalation:
      • Slowly open your palms, reaching them out in front of you as though offering a gift to the world.  Allow your fingers and wrists to relax as though you are completely letting go.
        • As you let go, invite a sense of freely releasing and total surrender without expectation of accolades or knowing the next part of the journey of this gift.  Simply, let go.
        • Feel free to pause here for a few breaths.
    • When you are ready, return your palms to your heart center on an inhalation.  Feel free to pause here for a few breaths.
    • Repeat another two or three times.

Transition back into your day – 

  • Return to your seated position.  Sit quietly for a few moments.
  • When you are ready, return to your day.

This poem appears in Mala of the Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, page 28, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.   HEARTH is posted each new and full moon.  KateVogt©2021.

Forest – sacred aliveness

Forest – sacred aliveness

One instant is eternity;
Eternity is the now.
When you see through this one instant,
You see through the one who sees.

English version by Stephen Mitchell

As the seasonal cycle once again turned toward summer, the mountain forests held the quietude of winter.  For months, they had been in hibernation with their ground blanketed under mounds of snow.  The immovable settling into prayerful silence absorbed each of these in its own reverent essence:  trees, plants, boulders, and granules of dirt were still and peacefully gathered in quiet, timeless communion.

To come to this moment of transition, the days have incrementally lengthened.  The snow has been melting.  And, the seemingly insentient community has transformed into a body of diverse shapes and forms.  Brilliant greens, browns and greys have emerged.   The expansive space between the towering trees seems to have taken centerstage – perhaps because the openness sustains the memory of quietude and is home to thousands of resilient, tiny plants that later blossom into soft reds, yellows, blues and lavenders.

Crystals of snow have steadily transformed into trickles and streams of water.  By the time human visitors arrive, the water is energetically rushing downward, cascading into waterfalls.  Eventually it begins to echo its quiet origins, slowing its pace and flowing into broad bodies of water.  There, like the mountain meadows, the lakes and even human-made reservoirs inspire memories of tranquil peacefulness and reverential awe.

Nature is a continual expression of sacred wisdom that abides in every morsel of life.  A visit to the mountain forest is a visit into the vastness of our own inner wilderness.   We are Nature.  The seasons move within us and we move within the seasons.  Nature’s voice is a quiet wordless offering of predominately subtle reminders of our temporal worldliness, being woven around the sacred Infinite.   The less subtle reminders are the turbulent storms – whether outer or inner – that uproot our confidence in predictability.

Within the pallet of worldly opposites of rising and subsiding, and offering and receiving, there is spacious, all-fulfilling serenity generously and equally holding all.  My hope is that we all rediscover what ancients have long observed, which is that the life’s essence is always nearby.  As the poet Wu-Men offers, Eternity is the now.

This practice supports awareness of the universality of the five elements. 


  • Find a comfortable seated position.
    • If you are in a chair or on a bench, please rest the soles of your feet on the surface beneath you.
  • Steadily and gradually shift your awareness to your breath in any way that feels pleasant for you.
  • If possible, invite a sense of ease and openness.  Relaxing the muscles around your jaw and shoulders, your navel, and the base of your skull.

Practice  – 

  • With your eyes in a soft gaze or lightly closed, take a moment to reflect on five basic elements – earth, water, fire, air, and space.
    • With each, slowly and gently:
      • Whisper the name of the element three times.
      • Invite an awareness of the sensations and feelings associated with the element. Silently say the name of the element as you inhale.  Imagine as though your awareness of the element is expanding with your inhalation.  Perhaps notice its presence within and beyond the boundaries of your skin.  On your exhalation, smile slightly and feel as though you are completely letting go of all stresses, thoughts, and any clinging.  Repeat with each element.
      • If the above practice seems inaccessible to you, perhaps try the following:
        • Invite an awareness of your inner sensations associated with that element. Imagine with your inner eye you are scanning the inside of your body from your toes to the inner surface of your head.  In your scan, be open to areas of the body where there is a seeming predominance of that element.
          • For example, the solidity of earth within the bones, the fluidity of the blood and moisture on the tongue for water, warmth for fire, lightness for air, and spaciousness for space.
        • Gently shift your awareness to your outer environment – nearby and then extending as broadly as comfortable for you – and invite an awareness of areas of the environment where you perceive to be a predominance of that element.
          • For example, the ground beneath you for earth, the interior of your home and the expanse of the night sky for space.
          • As you scan the environment, simultaneously invite an awareness of your inner sensations and feelings that arise. Allow yourself to let and just feel and notice without labels and judgment.
        • Again, whisper the name of each element three times.

Transition Back into Your Day— 

  • When you are ready, return to your day.
  • As you go about your day, invite a view of the world as a composition of the elements continuously and seamlessly manifesting in innumerable ways – inside and out.


This poem is from Mala of the Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, page 80, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.  HEARTH is posted each new and full moon. KateVogt©2021.



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