crumbs... i think. leading to the heart. might this be my calling? to tear off a directive here and a suggestion there and drop them with care or without because the calling will only be heard when the mind is ripe, lush, dry, aching, exuberant... in other words ready.
when it is willing.
when it looks forward to scrounging around for hours beneath the sacred pines hunting kindling to feed the fire of it's own sweet self.
when it knows the bittersweet paradoxical nature of the body and chooses to paint itself brightly to crack open the shutters of the eyes and and softly place its tender feet upon the earth humming with gratitude ready to play-
to know the radiance upwelling from every other because the confines are no longer and the heart she sees herself.