Stepping away from my life for 3 weeks offered me perspective and a deeper sense of how much I value the breathwork sangha. I have been a night owl for most of my life until about four years ago when I started the sangha. Getting up everyday with sun and sangha has changed me. It’s brought meaning to my life that only poetry can speak to:

 

 

 

It is said that the next Buddha is the sangha. 

The sangha of Red Buds, Junipers and dithering slugs. 

The sangha of red and blue, only hues without rhetoric - just colors of a fading day. 

The sangha of murmurating sun flower faces and mason bees burrowing wood laces and mushrooms composting loam all in service to webbing us home. 

All of it always here. 

A place to rest into and surrender the illusion - the incessant delusion of corporate collusion colonizing the mundane - polarizing, splitting, ripping us apart, gutting the very heart of who we are- a sangha of all the holy and the heinous and the beauty in grayness. 

A sangha of etheric light hitting the stained glass wing of a damselfly grazing my pores. The shimmer of luminescent feathers crowning the nut atch as he squeaks to his adored. 

The ancients, the currents, the sentient abide this deeper knowing that we cannot hide - that we are the jewel and the net on this fleeting ride.