There is a nightingale hiding in your soul, who wants to weave your song together with the sun, the moon, the stars and the turning seasons.
It is an indigenous song that emanates from the power of creation itself
It sings to the wind to the grass, to the sky, to the morning-dew without thought for its use other than the need for its unique expression
And if you allow yourself to be sung from the deepest source that is not only the wound you have been trying so hard to hide, but the joy you allow yourself to feel,
not only will you heal your pain, but the medicine of your voice will be a summer sun giving its healing warmth to some one else
as an essential note in the great choir of belonging.
