An exploration of sacred solitude and the muse

outdoor shower. copper. mountains.

I love writing in the shower. I love it because I can be alone. Truly alone. No one is going to walk in on me and disrupt my process.
From there, I can be creative — expansive and imaginative.
There is no judgement.
Because there is no one around to judge.
In this…

A Poem For the Long Days Spent in Bed

May you allow the days
to pass till noon
or evening,
if you need

May you cast away
any heaviness
that does not serve you.

May you bless the boundaries
around your time. Be patient. If you wish,
ignore the daylight
at your door.

May you slumber
till any…

Exploring the Threshold Between Social Space and Sacred Ground

Enter the temple. The meeting house of wood and stone.
It is time, time to gather.
Gather your cushion, your seat in the circle.
There is the altar, a row of rocks, call them crystals.
There are fairy lights strung across the ceiling, call them fire and flame.

Enter the…

To be Spoken and Shared With Your First…

A Journey into the Wilderness of Living Mythology

This is a true story, be warned. This is an invitation into the dark. A journey through the thresholds of death. Gather your warmth.
We walk deep. We walk now.

Our journey begins
when you take the first step. Be warned. …

A Poem

There is a language I am learning to speak. It is echoes and sometimes it is silence. It is loudest in the valleys of the forest.
It whispers me closer.
Closer, to what?
I do not know or perhaps, cannot yet tell you.

I am remembering — the taste of…

A Poem

I wish we slept in the forest together, above the ferns; in a hammock with the night birds. I do not believe these concrete trees can breathe.

In asphalt, I wake to take this dreaming-body to the coffee factories of Newtown. I drink long into the blackness.

It’s like we…

A Poem in Three Parts

Bless this bed with closed eyes
and slow breath.
Bless this body. I have forgotten my prayers. Press cold water to my lips and bless this water, waiting on the nightstand.
This water
waiting for me.

Dress this body in black and bowtie.
Wait for me. …

Harley Bell

I am a writer. In love with nature, the muse, music and mythology. Reach out, I reply. Support my journey with coffee.

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