Journey of the Heart

  Sisterhood by Tara Anand Sis, how I wish you'd been with me Through the trauma and adversity; Knowing you and I were one Together we would have overcome The family strife, the pain, the shame The lack of love, the lies, the games; Had I had you by my side It could've possibly turned the tide, I may have walked right off that stage Instead I went into the cage. Sis how I wish you'd been with me Through my months of maternity; To hold my hand, and stroke my hair When it all just got too much to bear; 'Time to celebrate' they said When I just wanted to mourn in bed. . .  My career, my life, my carefree ways You'd have gotten me through those days. Sis how I wish when I was five You had come into my lonely life— To play and ride the swings with me Act silly, laugh and shout  in glee; But while God had other plans for you Here's something I really never knew I've been hoping to find you to this day - In every woman who has crossed my way. Tara Anand is a C

Slow Down, Mind          by Vidya Chetan   We drift faraway from old ideals:  Have we lost our core values? This world runs behind wealth virtuous qualities seem obsolete.  Searching for  something , we tread unknown paths, sans concern for others.   With our gadgets, day & night: Connecting with far ones,  while snubbing those close by. Engrossed in this materialistic world we forget our own caretakers. Respecting elders—obeying them— has become a rare scene. Inconsideration and apathy empower us, our thoughts machine-driven, overindulgence in sense gratification slowing turning us into zombies and slaves.   We can’t live without our gadgets  but could manage without parents. Time spent with parents, siblings, friends: nothing but mere dreams now. We hurriedly meet and leave them.   Smart phones dumbing us down: having forgotten to play, read a book, chit chat with neighbors. Endlessly tied down to the gadgets, our brains on non-functional mode. Feelings of inner happiness lost. S

  That Space by Carolyn Chilton Casas Asleep with the senses awake— that liminal space between  drowsiness and dreams where  the energy takes me time and again.   Minutes move slowly,  life at a standstill, nowhere  to be, nothing to do, only  inhale and then gently exhale again.   In a pocket of unknowingness from which creation springs,  I let go  of what I think I know,  unlearning and looking again.   Saying yes to uncertainty, trusting in the mercy  of a guiding source— a wink of assurance that  there’s still time left to get it right.                             Photograph by Elina-Sazonova Carolyn Chilton Casas   lives on the central coast of California, the perfect landscape for a love of nature, hiking, and playing beach volleyball. She is a Reiki master and teacher, whose favorite theme for writing is about ways to heal. Her stories and poems have appeared in  Braided Way ,  Energy,   A Network for Grateful Living, Reiki News Magazine, Touch, and in other publications.   You

  Water Lettuce by Caroline Mellor The water lettuce has thick, spongy leaves and is covered in fine hairs. Its roots hang free so it is not anchored to the ground.  (I know this because David Attenborough tells me so, his blue eyes twinkling like fresh water). I think of all the unmoored souls on the planet, cast adrift, roots severed or cut. Not anchored in place. Those who, like me, feel the loss of connection to ancestral home and wisdom,  to themselves. The water lettuce has some remarkable adaptations, says David.  Its free-floating roots mean it can travel. What a beautiful teaching, I thought, for anyone whose roots have been torn up, for anyone who finds family to be a place of wounding rather than of anchoring. To know that they can travel the flooded rivers and the great highways of life gathering all the minerals and nutrients they need from the water  as they go; to know that, like the water lettuce, being rootless,  they too have one more remarkable adaptation.  Says Sir