Journey of the Heart

This poem nourishes my soul each time I read it...  Free poetic form has become a sacred way for me to capture and  express the wholeness of  my personal spiritual practice as a Practical Mystic:  to describe it and to share with others for teaching purposes.  "My Divine Lover"   has allowed me to voice my intimate connection and relationship with my Higher Self (Divine Source) in total oneness. This piece has served me as a sacred channel to express my deep inner awareness and inner work, compassion, love and the gratitude I feel towards my personal/spiritual growth which I get to apply to my everyday life.  My Divine Lover by Emelina Holland And it is in my darkest moments when you continue to softly undress me so that I can see more depths within myself. Depths   that had escaped my curious sight. Depths... that you caress with your loving light. And it is your gentle touch   The one that holds my tears   one by one as you turn them into pearls yo

A new poem just flowed through me and I would love to offer it to this inspiring sisterhood!  Photography by Chanel Baran Awakening to a New Day by Lauren Love I want to wake up each and every day  with an anticipation of what shall unfold,  with a childlike excitement about what magic this day will bring.  I want to look out of the window  and notice the light on the trees,  the wind gently moving  the leaves and the aliveness of all that is.  I want to notice the light and the shine,  the sparkle and the magic  that underlies the misery and torment of the destructive mind.  I want to see beyond the fears  and illusiona ry stories that keep us constrained  and masked from the truth of who we truly are.  I want to stay open, to stay soft  and to allow myself to be seen even when it’s terrifying  and I want to burrow in my cave.  I want to look people in the eye  and truly see them and be seen; to allow our souls to meet,  t

Traveling through the American West, as I do, amongst days flying past riverbeds, praying to red rocks, and resting at edges of desolate highways and dry grass meadow…   I found a compass, pointing towards my true North. It asked me to take fragments of memory, mind, winds, and language to create a capsule of eternal time, tethering me back to these moments. To look back on and remember, that a Goddess is made, in the moments when she is born. Contrary to its given name, this poem was written about the Utah stone... written in the crevices of red rocks, and from the damp one-lane roads of blacktop highways. It was written by doe-eyes pressed to the foggy car window, rolled half way down and half-afraid of the looming figures at dusk, flying by like 50mph speed posts on the side of desert highways. The three mountainous Gods that approved our safe passage... and this poem is for them. Photographic art by the author, Amy Leona Havin In Arizona, they like to fly by Amy Le

I wrote this poem back in 2014 when a friend asked me to write a poem for Mother's Day to honor all the mothers who had lost a child.  At the time, I did the best I could to empathize and try and sit in that space and imagine the grief, confusion, and extreme sense of love and loss a mother might feel. Then in 2016, I lost my brother, and I was so entrenched in not only my own grief, but the collective grief of my parent's, that I knew much more acutely how that experience may feel.  I tried to share these words last year, but I couldn't bring myself to do so. They hit too close, too real, too raw, too soon. In the words, I had captured all too well the emotional experiences of pain and ache and rage and sad and the chaos that occurs when love gets turned inside out into grief.  But this year, with a little more time gone by, I share them to honor those who have known loss, who have bravely found a way to keep on going after life has gone still-  may you contin

I was sitting at my study table and surrounded by clutter of papers, pens, laptop and cell phones when suddenly...  ...a house sparrow came and sat on the ledge of the closed glass window of my air conditioned room. Human beings have long since banished this poor winged creature from their household by closing their doors and windows. It is as if we have blocked joy and liveliness from our lives. Yet I found this tiny winged creature had no anxiety and no fear. It was chirpy and full of life as if defying this banishment. She was lively and spirited. If she could fly on the wings of joy, why couldn’t I ??? On The Wings of Joy by Latika Teotia On The Wings of Joy I shall soar And forget the problems of yore. On The Wings of Joy I shall fly, I shall not let life just pass me by. On The Wings of Joy I shall sail, Of hope I shall leave a visible trail. On The Wings of Joy I shall glide, From anxiety to liveliness I will slide. On The Wings of Joy I

I wrote this poem as a means of trying to express the enchantment that comes to me in times of peace and joy in deep meditation... This sometimes manifests itself physically in a tickling on the scalp or a subtle vibration all over the body, and it seems to me like being immersed in/under a rainbow of sound and light.  The image of the rainbow as a bridge between worlds (physical and spiritual) rings true for me, and I have even crossed a rainbow bridge in meditations to seek guidance.The peace and joy of meditation can be like a cocoon of hope reconnecting us to the Creator and to all others.  It has changed my life.  Under the Rainbow by Anita Neilson An enchantment through my scalp Like a rainbow emerging from Source Expanding and inspiring Those held under its dome. In this cocoon I am and was Lustrous threads of connectedness To all that is. In this world I observe the other – Beautiful, exciting, exhausting chaos. In this moment, there is