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I am not my thoughts. I am the temple that hears the whispers of them.

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Myself Temple Thinking

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I will take this heart, these lungs, these hands and I will rebuild.
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Hearts don’t forget.
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I am mystic bones and a curious heart. Pain and joy and stardust skin. A sacred soul container. Time and space and matter and illusion. Expansion and contraction. A breathing universe.
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The truth is your skin was my skin and shedding you is not an easy process.
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Is there another human out there made from the same lightening as me that I have crashed into yet?
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The irony of crashing into me is I will show you what safety looks like.
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Whenever you are without a map, always navigate back to the state of love – your heart being the only compass you will ever need.
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Never be afraid to fall apart in front of the stars. They do not twinkle with judgment.
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The beauty of soul nakedness the beauty of ripping illusion out from the soil of us.
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Our greatness mistake was starting with potent lust, and allowing it to drip into lust.
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Why are humans so afraid to break, when it is stunning on the other side.
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When the moonlight is kind enough to illuminate your darkness. How can you ever say you are lonely?
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Take refuge in your own arms. Collapse into the protection of your own body. It’s the safest home you will ever know.
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I can feel hope beginning to sprout from all parts of me that were once punctured.
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I tried and tried to blow out the flame of a candle but it would not budge, it reminded me of us.
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I am nature taking its divine and natural course. I am homes being rebuilt after a tragedy. I am healing.
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