12 Senses

A regular day on Earth, echoes, sounds and images happen simultaneously, it’s a bit chaotic, sometimes we think it’s music. What if everything we perceive was just the distant shock wave of something much more profound and brilliant happening in multi-dimensions? Stop for a moment and imagine how that might blow our consciousness? What festival of unknown? It is beyond sound and image, touch and scent. In fact, the range of divine expressions would require dozens of senses to grasp all which we can’t even imagine.

Those echoes eventually reach us, muffled, flattened and faded, sifted through a 3D filter, their intensity lowered to a frequency we can both perceive and withstand. The rest is lost to us, its only trace a strange longing for something more, a tightening sensation in the chest, art forms we can barely grasp, even those of us blessed with a third eye and sixth sense.

When that voice speaks to us, when we hear the echoes and play them, when we let ourselves be a human partition in divine hands, there is music. The most beautiful melody and rhythm, one that vibrates not for the ears but for the heart. There is no need to search for Oneness any longer because we are aligned, divine music flowing through us.  Back to 12 senses instead of 6.

Elemental Power

Emotions collide and squeeze me in their invisible embrace. They lift or sink me in waves I do not see coming but feel strongly as they pass through me, each one making me doubt who I was before and who I will be after they’re done with me.

I am puzzled by the chaos inside, not the placid lake others see, or just others with surface vision. I embrace life with all I’ve got, a leaf carried by powerful winds, fires and torrential rains. I used to be elemental myself until I was given an I. And that I and its eye explored again in that tiny skin suit, once again human, once again deprived of nature’s deeper power. 

But what is power really? In nature, power is not something you have, it’s something you are. The tree doesn’t have grounding power, patience and presence, it is all those things and they are embodied by its roots. The bird and the wind do not have the power of transformation and dream, they are that power. One soars and glides using the other’s currents, graceful and effortless. From the sea’s tide to the Moon phases, the jaguar’s coat to the humming bird’s shimmering grace, all of nature is power endlessly expressed and renewed.

In the world of buildings, dollars and cars, power is what you possess. It is things. To me the power of making and owning is a fake power, a shadow toy for missing wings and roots.  

Sometimes I want my strength back, I want the claws and the stealth walk, silently through the night, yellow eyes glowing, lighting my path, unafraid.  

But I have done that. I have been bird and cat, tree and bug, drops of water in forgotten ponds. So now I pounce on words and play with them, and when they stop responding because I’ve tossed them around too much, I need to go and hunt for new ones.

And I need the danger because there is no true power without it.

That is my journey into the night, its shadows exciting and frightening for what they may yield. Something I know, or something I don’t know, something I may not want to know. In a world that mostly bows to Human rule, emotions are my only true predators. They can fascinate and hypnotize me like a snake, they can deviate me off path as would a siren, they can tear me apart or disarm me and make me into a child. They are my teachers, and their way of love is sometimes on the tough side. Even the most pleasant feelings, the ones that make me smile, have an unsettling quality to them, an intensity that sometimes has me say, “please, stop”!

But I will not shy away from them. I am a warrior of emotions and when day light comes, when it’s time for a truce, I give them gratitude because they are my only true power.


Love will makes one so whole it’s safe to open up as widely as you dare and fly high. Pain is an explosion that will rip you in a thousand pieces and makes you crash, so you’ll want to curl up and close, gathering what you can and hold it back together. The first gives you a set of wings, the second comes with a parachute. Each will make you fly in ways you wouldn’t suspect, if you understand and accept that they are simply a process, two parts of the same wave that are no more distinct than you and your Self. It seems cliché to say embrace the pain, but the quicker one does just that, the quicker one will ride that wave and move back onto its joyful counterpart. At some miraculous point the parachute morphs into a new set of wings, but it doesn’t stop there. Eventually we learn to surf in ways that transform every wave into joy.

Hello tear

I found a broken man sitting on a chair
playing a song with pieces of his heart
I asked him his name and he gave me a tear
So I said hello tear, may I take you somewhere?

I found a heart sitting alone on a chair
I asked where’s your owner and it said “over there”
And sure enough there was a man walking on air.
He saw me and said dear, have you seen my tear?
She left so long ago, where did she go?

I smiled and looked with him up in the air
I held his hand and looked inside the ground
I gazed with him inside his coffee cup,
he opened his heart so we could search inside
I still can’t find my tear he said,
can I have yours instead?

I found a man who looked like a mirror
I leaned closer and fell in the picture.
Among the broken lines I saw them appear,
Thousand little smiles shining in every tear

Soul connections

When souls are made from the same fabric, there is nothing in the universe that can stop their encounter. No matter where they incarnate and regardless of their circumstances, their lives will collide at some point. Like two shooting stars  inexorably launched on a mutual trajectory, their paths will inevitably cross, triggering the mix of chaos and harmony, fear and endless possibilities that are bound to happen in connexion with such a passionate clash of energy. In fact, the only  impossible thing in such a configuration is for the encounter not to happen.
As it is, circumstances will mold so that the souls may join.  And because this is an imperfect world fraught with mishaps and missed opportunities, if the encounter is delayed, the circumstance will bend accordingly and create a host of new possibilities.
Once the souls actually meet, the recognition is instant. Whatever guise the relationship adopts, whether friendship, a romantic attachement, siblings, parent-child or Teacher-student type bond,  the souls, feeling a nostalgia for the time they were part of one, unique fabric, long to merge again and find delight in each other’s simple presence. Their joy far exceeds anything the material world has to offer. Because it belongs to essence, soul connections require no words, promises or possessions.


For years the words “love” and “synchronicities” danced in my mind like two exuberant lovers. Beautiful to watch and relentless at the same time, they inspired a host of thoughts I longed to put into form. From as long as I can remember I noticed them, the synchronicities or so-called coincidences that “happen” in what we call everyday life. I decided early on to do my best to identify them, to listen to them and follow them whenever and wherever I could. It is a different approach to life, akin to a bird gliding from current to current of warm air, waiting for nature’s impulse to make it soar.

In this way I have experienced life-changing friendships, switched careers or even continents, all because of a so-called chance encounter, an intuition, a dream or something a total stranger had said. I did not always see so clearly what had triggered certain decisions, and it wasn’t until I consciously noticed synchronistic manifestations that they began to multiply, acquiring both increased strength and significance. I also noticed how love often walks hand in hand with synchronicities. In fact they seem to preclude it, enhance it, protect it and nourish it at the same time.

Eventually the two lovers dancing in my mind came together and gave me their offsprings in the form of thoughts and reflexions. So I have no choice but to let them grow, respect their pace, listen to them breathe and finally speak. I hope I will be a good listener and a faithful interpreter when I experience the joy of sharing with you.