The Resurrection Diaries
The Resurrection Diaries
Literary Magic to Bring Your Dream to Life
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You will also get a copy of The Shaman's Touch, An Encounter With the Refining Fire of Your Destiny AND The Glory Overflowing Prayer Series in pdf and Flipbook format.
The Dream Alchemy Collection
And from this stillness, walk resolutely, with tears streaming (as they surely will), into the heart-promise of this harvest we have called forth today. Do the work of ripping up weeds from your inner garden. Check your pockets for a multiplication of that original seed. Cast every last morsel of promise upon the bone-dry ground. Prepare the storehouse for more than you think it can hold. Water the land of your inner world as best you can. Remember, your tears are more powerful for coaxing forth the first fruits of this harvest than you can even imagine. But a smile brings torrents of rain (living water straight from your belly) and bright, brilliant sunrises in your eyes.
Perilous Nostalgia: How to Navigate the Space Between Trauma and Triumph without Succumbing to the Siren Song of the Familiar
More is possible. But first you must let go of the cocky sense of reassurance your emotional healing has given you and get down to the nuts and bolts of creating the inner and outer structures your expectations demand.
Today you are a wild and joyful occasion waiting to unfurl its wings. You cannot forget this in the face of travesty. You cannot look these times in the eye and then let them win. You cannot allow this moment in history to clip your wings. You must begin to dream again. Learn why and how.
This is also no ordinary midnight, no simple moonless night. If you stop and listen to the rhythm beating out its time all around you, I think you will find a clue about exactly where this bonfire of luminosity is hidden. Come confirm your suspicions of glory.
When you belong, you do not take succor with those who mean to exploit you with a shilling’s worth of “love.” You do not bow your eyes at the first sign of trouble either. Instead, you hold that sense of belonging as a warrior’s truth. This can be your truth too! Read more.
The moment you know who you really are, you will become Spirit’s grandest provocation. Find out more!
Meanwhile, the bat signal is out of order and the mainframe crashed. So, what shall you do?
Give up this treasure hunt? Or strike out with a resonant yearning in your heart and find that as soon as you do…
Oh, by the way, just then, I started to ask if I have offended you. But really! What kind of measure is this? Instead, I will sit here, in the afterglow of this transfiguring love, in the broad daylight, sipping heavenly wine. Here, let’s toast the Divine.
No! You have to do it now. The systems of trauma will never make time for you to break apart the trauma structures, though they might finally break you down so there isn’t any other choice.
Don’t waste even a passing thought on glass slippers lovely. They’ll only cripple your feet, lay obstacles in your pathway, slow down your glorious art. Pick sensible shoes and take a lover who deplores the symbolism of a gilded cage.
I am not who I was and I have not yet emerged as the woman I will be. Nor am I being asked to do anything so progressive or ardent as becoming. In this place, I am tasked only with the work of weaving. The subject matter of my loom is a peculiar one. My soul rests upon it.
Live! Wake up dry bones of my abandoned faith. Move remnants of me! Dance to the sound of my spirit voice. Come alive and give me shelter.
Do it because this moment in history has anguish on tap. Do it in defiance of those who would have you give up your sparkle for some cold-stone reality (as defined by them). Do it because someone has to understand miracles, and even better, learn how to work them.
You have inside of you the power of speech, the resonance of your voice, the endowment of a beautiful, graceful tomorrow that exceeds your wildest dreams. Speak. Write the myths of victory for this age.
What if divinity yearns for you to open up a space, a crack, a tiny sliver of need that can be filled to the brim with love, blessings, comfort, wisdom?
I wore the prostitute’s mask. My mask was a vile covering because I wore it not for love and passion, but for security. I wore it as the emblem of my fear. Read my liberation story.