The soul must depart from the place of primal unity to be born in a specific life story... soul essence ignites a journey of conscious returning—the remembering of original wild wholeness
Awww Robin, your tender presence uplifts me, too. Thank you for seeing the wild and the love—it means so much to me, always. I’m grateful we’re walking this path in parallel.
I changed my life when I decided to leave a marriage with a non-partner and absentee father to my young child. It was a huge leap of faith, although deep inside I knew I could do it and I knew I would thrive.
Now I'm thriving with my daughter, living free and joyfully. I see life through her young innocent eyes, the ones who see bunnies in our yard worth greeting "good morning" to, and making glitter bottles without waiting for mom to 'help' contain the mess. It's a life where we belly laugh at the silliest things, snuggle and read books or watch Bluey.
This is beautiful. What a courageous pivot—to choose thriving over surviving, joy over justification. I can feel the freedom in the glitter bottles and bunny greetings. These moments—Bluey, belly laughs, snuggles—are sacred. Thank you for sharing this bright edge of your journey. We are thriving through similar stories, not difficult but often hard. We can do hard, and we can ask for help. Thank you.
It has never been more crucial to connect with what is essential within you and act upon it. So many are waiting for a sign or a permission slip or some material possession to change their life. It's easier to not take accountability for your path, to cheat off someone else's paper in a sense. Once you tune into what you know to be true on a granular level, it's so much easier.💗
Hi Eileen, Thank you for reading. I love your depth of insight. Yes—when we stop waiting for permission, give ourselves full permission, and start listening inward, the path clarifies. The soul doesn't shout. It pulses. And once we feel that pulse, it’s hard to go back to sleep. Thank you for naming this with such clarity. 💗
Wow, Prajna. This was so, so beautiful and powerful. I am saving to reread as needed, a soul prescription for our times. I am seeking meaning from my soul in my low back chronic pain that emerged three months ago and has stilled & isolated my life just as I wanted to emerge like a butterfly from her chrysalis here in my new life in Barcelona. I am listening to the whispers of my soul through the lessons of my low back, for which I am now grateful, as they were necessary. I needed to learn to slow down, to banish a sense of urgency, to remake myself as someone who can be in the present moment and not always leaping forward into the future. I needed to find inner stillness, it turns out, through the ongoing fire of my physical pain. I know I am on the healing path and your wisdom makes that crystal clear. Thank you.🙏
Aww Amy, thank you for this generous comment and the idea that you will re-read, as medicine necessarily fuels me. Your words feel like a mirror held up to my own spine, (I am on the other side of a brutal back injury, which partly stimulated this piece. I still ache for full emergence and stillness in a demanding life. Thank you for offering this raw beauty, this sacred reframe of pain as soul whisper. What you shared is a healing balm—it affirms that the fire doesn’t come to destroy us, but to slow us down to soul-speed.
Barcelona… a chrysalis, a threshold. May your wings unfold in divine timing. I read your piece and loved it. I’m honored this piece found you. Thank you, soul sister. 🦋
And then you end your peace with Love wears our face. Thank you for putting it in the present tense for me. I needed that tonight with ALL that is going on in LA, Palestine... Love wears my face Now. Not in some distant future.
I heard an activist on social media speaking to a crowd and saying- tear gas, pellet guns, taking us violently away; but they don't have the power to make us hate them.
Wow. Love wears the faces of the nonviolent protestors. May we rise up knowing that we are the faces of Love. What a beautiful piece you have written for us. So grateful. xox
I love that Sil. They don’t have the power to make us hate them. That roars with truth. Crone solidarity here. Yes love wears your face And your entire body.
Dear Kat, I’ve missed you. Thank you so much for your kind comment. I always love hearing from you. You are a healing flame, always lighting more fire, in a good way.
Hi Kim, Thanks for reading and walking with me in this tender territory. I’m so glad those questions spoke to you—they return to me often, especially when I’ve drifted too far from what matters.
May your own heart-song keep leading you closer to rest, wonder, and the quiet knowing of your soul. It’s an honor to be in resonance with you. 💫
This line jumped out at me: "We have full permission to honor our sensitivities in a world cracking at the seams--"
Such necessary and timely wisdom, Prajna. Like you, I have been away; not in retreat (though that is coming next week, thank God, a chance to write in the mountains) but on vacation with my kids and baby granddaughters. It was a beautiful, eventful getaway at the beach, but not at all restful.
Since coming home last weekend, I have been overly-present to the cracking. Feeling too much, even while working on my ancestor memoir, my grandmother's story of escape and violence and love and return to a place she had never been before as someone new. Feeling too much of the past.
Sometimes the meaning is too much.
Sometimes, it is even those things we love doing--telling stories--that can crack us open to stand inside the fire. And when the fires are burning inside and out, part of our lesson is to learn how to temper those fires and do it, as you say, with softness, and showing kindness to ourselves.
What a gorgeous, heartfelt reflection—so much depth, tenderness, and kinship in your words. They land with such resonance.
Yes, to tenderness that comes with feeling everything too much, especially when we’re holding stories that span generations, escape, return, and the ache of becoming. I honor your deep work. I will always read your stack because of this.
“Sometimes the meaning is too much”- a boom to the chest, a tightening in the throat, and a feeling of tears wanting to be shed. Isn't it the work we love that stretches us to the edge of our being? Is this why we do it—to feel alive?
May your upcoming retreat offer restful stillness for your stories to breathe, and for you to be held in the softness you so generously name.
So grateful we’re walking parallel paths, learning to tend the fire without being consumed. 🔥💛
Thank you, Prajna. This kinship in the name of stories and storytelling is vitalizing, and revitalizing. Your writing reminds me of this. And here's to walking the path, wherever it may lead!
Oh these words, in this arrangement, in this moment…meet me so tenderly. I am wonderfully stunned by how what you shared here parallels with a poem I wrote to celebrate my birth as an intentional miracle. There is even a line about wearing Love’s face.
I haven’t shared it til now, but I feel it’s fitting to do so.
I Am a Miracle (A Birth Blessing for Myself)
On October 30, 1962, a miracle occurred— not in thunder or trumpet blast, but in the holy hush of the cosmos holding its breath.
For less than less than a moment, all of creation paused— stars stilled, oceans ceased their rhythm, trees stopped swaying, the wind curled up in quiet reverence.
Waiting… waiting… waiting… to breathe once again— as me, through me.
Not just a birth. But a declaration: Life wanted me.
The Earth opened her arms to catch me. The sky bent low to kiss my breath. God whispered my name into form.
Even if no one saw it— Even if my parents could not hold the light I carried— Still, I was a miracle. Am a miracle. Will always be, a miracle.
I was never a mistake. I was never too much. I was never not enough. I was perfectly timed in the great unfolding.
Not late. Not early. But exactly when Love needed to wear my face.
Even if I was not met with songs or joy or tender welcome, the stars still sang. The soil still softened. The rivers still ran toward me. The angels still danced in awe at my becoming.
So today, I remember. Today, I reclaim the truth of my sacred arrival.
I was wanted. I was chosen. I was celebrated by all that sees beyond flesh and fear.
I am here. And I matter. And my life is a gift that only I can live.
Yes in your book is the full details of your heart wrenching glorious stories of life through your eyes. It is written beautifully. Thank you for connecting it in this space of present day. You are awesome in so many ways and you show us your views in a comprehensive way and it is truly a process for everything in life! Thank you , Prajna. Hoping you heal physically quickly. ❤️🌻
Kathy, I love your warm, gracious response that reflects ongoing heartfelt appreciation.
Thank you for these generous, soul-soaked words. It means so much that the stories land with you—past and present woven together. Yes, it’s all a process… a wild, holy one. Grateful we get to walk part of it together. 💛
Yes, I am mending, back in yoga, moving slow, considering another lift system for our living room. The kitty is wonderful! Love you
Oh Wow Prajna, You have just blown me away. I read this in my email a little while ago when I first woke pre dawn and have come back again now I am sitting up ready for my morning coffee. How your words of wisdom speak to me — choosing to live from the inside out. "We may not remember asking for it. But we did. And our soul remembers." I hope you know you are an inspiration — "As I unwrapped layer by layer, shed tear by tear, meaning emerged. Gratitude followed ..." Yes, so beautiful. Such powerful writing. Thank you, with love. 🙏 💚
What a beautiful, insightful essay. I hung on every word, including: "I came to know—deep in my cells—that all life has meaning. Birth is a gift. We don’t choose the wrapping—we open it. Whether it arrives as elation or devastation, each package carries something meaningful for us."
I've never viewed life that way before, so thank you for your eloquent metaphor. It's true; we open the wrapping. The question of how we nourish the whispers and roars of the soul really speaks to me. For me, it is in creating art. I've been an artist since I was born, but there were so many unpleasant detours that kept me from creating art. Now, I am finally answering these whispers and roars by creating lots of art. I am making up for lost time!
I love that the part you quoted landed soulfully, affirming the celebration of your awakening and reflecting our shared devotion to listening to the soul’s call, YES!
Your words glow with the light of someone who is at home with themselves—thank you for sharing that with me.
We open what we’re given, and sometimes it takes time to see, receive, and integrate the gifts inside, usually multiple, don't you think? IE like twins. LOL, now I can laugh.
Your art IS a powerful response to your soul’s call—what a beautiful way to nourish the whispers and honor the roars.
Keep creating. Keep listening. We're never too late. We're always right on time.
All of us. Thank you, sister for being in the creative community with me.
This is deeply moving. I so appreciate your willingness to talk about that night when you were at your lowest - feeling like your life was not the one you wanted to live. And then, that shift.
And this:
"We don’t have to love it. What matters is how intimately we’re willing to receive it—and melt in its love."
Giving ourselves permission to feel and honor our true feelings is so necessary. Thank you for your beautiful, inspiring words. I appreciate you.
Did I tell you that my birth name is Nancy? I've gone by Prajna since meeting Adyashanti, it what gifted to me as a reminder to live from 'heart wisdom' and 'to take no shit' as a Bhuddist nun once told me. (For cloe to 30 years, this has been my mantra, I'm in no way perfect—it's a path.)
Thank you so much for receiving this with such tenderness. Yes—that night still echoes in me, but so does the shift.
I’m learning again and again: we don’t have to love the moment we’re in, but we can still let it shape us, soften us, even nourish us.
Your presence here is a gift. I feel the kinship in your words—and I appreciate you joining me here with your wisdom. 💛
Oh my gosh, your birth name is the same as mine. I feel even more connected now. Thank you for sharing that. No one names their child Nancy anymore, right? lol
I'm grateful for your presence, too, Parjna. Hugs.
No, that name is gone. I was born in 57. There was a time when I had four friends by the name of Nancy. We went out ot a club for fun, maybe to meet some dudes (we were all straight at the time). The bouncer and everyone we met dropped their jaw when we said, "I'm Nancy, I'm Nancy, I'm Nancy' I'm Nancy, I'm Nancy" it was fun!
My mother named me after her best friend, my middle name after her sister in law, but I stole my mother's maiden name as O'Hara to honor her forever. Hugs back, new Nancy friend.
So glad we found each other in this quiet corner of the world where words hold depth, beauty, and meaning. Thank you for exploring—I’m honored you’re here. I look forward to reading more of your voice too… already love the exquisite piece I tasted. 💫
Thank you for this, Prajna! Your loving, wild courage and care always uplift me.
Awww Robin, your tender presence uplifts me, too. Thank you for seeing the wild and the love—it means so much to me, always. I’m grateful we’re walking this path in parallel.
❤️❤️❤️
I changed my life when I decided to leave a marriage with a non-partner and absentee father to my young child. It was a huge leap of faith, although deep inside I knew I could do it and I knew I would thrive.
Now I'm thriving with my daughter, living free and joyfully. I see life through her young innocent eyes, the ones who see bunnies in our yard worth greeting "good morning" to, and making glitter bottles without waiting for mom to 'help' contain the mess. It's a life where we belly laugh at the silliest things, snuggle and read books or watch Bluey.
Aww dear Wendy, I am dancing with joy for you.
This is beautiful. What a courageous pivot—to choose thriving over surviving, joy over justification. I can feel the freedom in the glitter bottles and bunny greetings. These moments—Bluey, belly laughs, snuggles—are sacred. Thank you for sharing this bright edge of your journey. We are thriving through similar stories, not difficult but often hard. We can do hard, and we can ask for help. Thank you.
It has never been more crucial to connect with what is essential within you and act upon it. So many are waiting for a sign or a permission slip or some material possession to change their life. It's easier to not take accountability for your path, to cheat off someone else's paper in a sense. Once you tune into what you know to be true on a granular level, it's so much easier.💗
Hi Eileen, Thank you for reading. I love your depth of insight. Yes—when we stop waiting for permission, give ourselves full permission, and start listening inward, the path clarifies. The soul doesn't shout. It pulses. And once we feel that pulse, it’s hard to go back to sleep. Thank you for naming this with such clarity. 💗
Wow, Prajna. This was so, so beautiful and powerful. I am saving to reread as needed, a soul prescription for our times. I am seeking meaning from my soul in my low back chronic pain that emerged three months ago and has stilled & isolated my life just as I wanted to emerge like a butterfly from her chrysalis here in my new life in Barcelona. I am listening to the whispers of my soul through the lessons of my low back, for which I am now grateful, as they were necessary. I needed to learn to slow down, to banish a sense of urgency, to remake myself as someone who can be in the present moment and not always leaping forward into the future. I needed to find inner stillness, it turns out, through the ongoing fire of my physical pain. I know I am on the healing path and your wisdom makes that crystal clear. Thank you.🙏
Aww Amy, thank you for this generous comment and the idea that you will re-read, as medicine necessarily fuels me. Your words feel like a mirror held up to my own spine, (I am on the other side of a brutal back injury, which partly stimulated this piece. I still ache for full emergence and stillness in a demanding life. Thank you for offering this raw beauty, this sacred reframe of pain as soul whisper. What you shared is a healing balm—it affirms that the fire doesn’t come to destroy us, but to slow us down to soul-speed.
Barcelona… a chrysalis, a threshold. May your wings unfold in divine timing. I read your piece and loved it. I’m honored this piece found you. Thank you, soul sister. 🦋
Love Will Wear Our Face. What? Exactly. What?
And then you end your peace with Love wears our face. Thank you for putting it in the present tense for me. I needed that tonight with ALL that is going on in LA, Palestine... Love wears my face Now. Not in some distant future.
I heard an activist on social media speaking to a crowd and saying- tear gas, pellet guns, taking us violently away; but they don't have the power to make us hate them.
Wow. Love wears the faces of the nonviolent protestors. May we rise up knowing that we are the faces of Love. What a beautiful piece you have written for us. So grateful. xox
I love that Sil. They don’t have the power to make us hate them. That roars with truth. Crone solidarity here. Yes love wears your face And your entire body.
Thanks love for reading, you’re the best. 💜🕊️🔥
Prajna, you truly find words that express the Truth you found in the depths of your soul. You truly are a wonderful write who KNOWS.
Your words come from being in the fire and that is why they resonate with me.
They are purified.
Thank you so much. Bless you and your family.
Dear Kat, I’ve missed you. Thank you so much for your kind comment. I always love hearing from you. You are a healing flame, always lighting more fire, in a good way.
🔥😘🌹
❤️🙏
Our souls long, search for
meaning in community.
We’re never alone.
...
Hear invitations,
allow a resurrection.
To meet the moment.
Marisol, thank you for pausing here for this poetic reflection—a tender and necessary reminder.
Our souls don’t just long for meaning,
they remember it in each other.
Thank you for this invitation—to rise, together in the pause, moment by moment.
I appreciate you. 🌿
Hello Jennifer, I am happy to meet you. Thank you for reading and sharing, it means the world to me. I look forward to reading your words.
What a powerful story and journey you are on! I love and resonate with this:
To paint, draw, write, listen to the urges that draw us close to our soul:
What makes my heart sing with gladness?
What permission do I give myself to rest, pleasure, wonder, delight, remember?
What kindness awaits me to give or receive?
Hi Kim, Thanks for reading and walking with me in this tender territory. I’m so glad those questions spoke to you—they return to me often, especially when I’ve drifted too far from what matters.
May your own heart-song keep leading you closer to rest, wonder, and the quiet knowing of your soul. It’s an honor to be in resonance with you. 💫
I am glad you are here with us.
This line jumped out at me: "We have full permission to honor our sensitivities in a world cracking at the seams--"
Such necessary and timely wisdom, Prajna. Like you, I have been away; not in retreat (though that is coming next week, thank God, a chance to write in the mountains) but on vacation with my kids and baby granddaughters. It was a beautiful, eventful getaway at the beach, but not at all restful.
Since coming home last weekend, I have been overly-present to the cracking. Feeling too much, even while working on my ancestor memoir, my grandmother's story of escape and violence and love and return to a place she had never been before as someone new. Feeling too much of the past.
Sometimes the meaning is too much.
Sometimes, it is even those things we love doing--telling stories--that can crack us open to stand inside the fire. And when the fires are burning inside and out, part of our lesson is to learn how to temper those fires and do it, as you say, with softness, and showing kindness to ourselves.
Thank you for this beautiful reminder
Hi Robin,
What a gorgeous, heartfelt reflection—so much depth, tenderness, and kinship in your words. They land with such resonance.
Yes, to tenderness that comes with feeling everything too much, especially when we’re holding stories that span generations, escape, return, and the ache of becoming. I honor your deep work. I will always read your stack because of this.
“Sometimes the meaning is too much”- a boom to the chest, a tightening in the throat, and a feeling of tears wanting to be shed. Isn't it the work we love that stretches us to the edge of our being? Is this why we do it—to feel alive?
May your upcoming retreat offer restful stillness for your stories to breathe, and for you to be held in the softness you so generously name.
So grateful we’re walking parallel paths, learning to tend the fire without being consumed. 🔥💛
I appreciate you, dear friend.
Thank you, Prajna. This kinship in the name of stories and storytelling is vitalizing, and revitalizing. Your writing reminds me of this. And here's to walking the path, wherever it may lead!
Robin, my path is challenging right now. Your words and friendship are revitalizing. Thank you.
Oh these words, in this arrangement, in this moment…meet me so tenderly. I am wonderfully stunned by how what you shared here parallels with a poem I wrote to celebrate my birth as an intentional miracle. There is even a line about wearing Love’s face.
I haven’t shared it til now, but I feel it’s fitting to do so.
I Am a Miracle (A Birth Blessing for Myself)
On October 30, 1962, a miracle occurred— not in thunder or trumpet blast, but in the holy hush of the cosmos holding its breath.
For less than less than a moment, all of creation paused— stars stilled, oceans ceased their rhythm, trees stopped swaying, the wind curled up in quiet reverence.
Waiting… waiting… waiting… to breathe once again— as me, through me.
Not just a birth. But a declaration: Life wanted me.
The Earth opened her arms to catch me. The sky bent low to kiss my breath. God whispered my name into form.
Even if no one saw it— Even if my parents could not hold the light I carried— Still, I was a miracle. Am a miracle. Will always be, a miracle.
I was never a mistake. I was never too much. I was never not enough. I was perfectly timed in the great unfolding.
Not late. Not early. But exactly when Love needed to wear my face.
Even if I was not met with songs or joy or tender welcome, the stars still sang. The soil still softened. The rivers still ran toward me. The angels still danced in awe at my becoming.
So today, I remember. Today, I reclaim the truth of my sacred arrival.
I was wanted. I was chosen. I was celebrated by all that sees beyond flesh and fear.
I am here. And I matter. And my life is a gift that only I can live.
Amen. Aho. So it is.
Wow Lila
What a gorgeous proclamation of your sovereign birth.
Yes received loved on time
Welcomed in all creation.
Time stood still and love wears your face.
Thank you for sharing your exquisite birth.
I love you sister and thx for sharing in my passion.
💚💜🧡
🌹🌹🌹
Yes in your book is the full details of your heart wrenching glorious stories of life through your eyes. It is written beautifully. Thank you for connecting it in this space of present day. You are awesome in so many ways and you show us your views in a comprehensive way and it is truly a process for everything in life! Thank you , Prajna. Hoping you heal physically quickly. ❤️🌻
Kathy, I love your warm, gracious response that reflects ongoing heartfelt appreciation.
Thank you for these generous, soul-soaked words. It means so much that the stories land with you—past and present woven together. Yes, it’s all a process… a wild, holy one. Grateful we get to walk part of it together. 💛
Yes, I am mending, back in yoga, moving slow, considering another lift system for our living room. The kitty is wonderful! Love you
Oh Wow Prajna, You have just blown me away. I read this in my email a little while ago when I first woke pre dawn and have come back again now I am sitting up ready for my morning coffee. How your words of wisdom speak to me — choosing to live from the inside out. "We may not remember asking for it. But we did. And our soul remembers." I hope you know you are an inspiration — "As I unwrapped layer by layer, shed tear by tear, meaning emerged. Gratitude followed ..." Yes, so beautiful. Such powerful writing. Thank you, with love. 🙏 💚
Hello Simone,
I appreciate your tender response.
Your words wrapped around me like morning light—thank you.
To know these reflections found you in that quiet, pre-dawn moment… that feels like grace.
Yes—layer by layer, tear by tear, we unwrap and meet life.
And something ancient remembers.
With love and gratitude, I’m so glad we’re walking together in this space. 💚🙏
How beautiful, grace 💜. Some ancient does remember 🙏. Love and gratitude straight back to you — and some laughter. 💚 Thank you. 😊
Yes to joyous laughter! It's always right there beneath the tears for me anyway.
And me 🥰
Hi Prajna,
What a beautiful, insightful essay. I hung on every word, including: "I came to know—deep in my cells—that all life has meaning. Birth is a gift. We don’t choose the wrapping—we open it. Whether it arrives as elation or devastation, each package carries something meaningful for us."
I've never viewed life that way before, so thank you for your eloquent metaphor. It's true; we open the wrapping. The question of how we nourish the whispers and roars of the soul really speaks to me. For me, it is in creating art. I've been an artist since I was born, but there were so many unpleasant detours that kept me from creating art. Now, I am finally answering these whispers and roars by creating lots of art. I am making up for lost time!
Hello Beth,
I love that the part you quoted landed soulfully, affirming the celebration of your awakening and reflecting our shared devotion to listening to the soul’s call, YES!
Your words glow with the light of someone who is at home with themselves—thank you for sharing that with me.
We open what we’re given, and sometimes it takes time to see, receive, and integrate the gifts inside, usually multiple, don't you think? IE like twins. LOL, now I can laugh.
Your art IS a powerful response to your soul’s call—what a beautiful way to nourish the whispers and honor the roars.
Keep creating. Keep listening. We're never too late. We're always right on time.
All of us. Thank you, sister for being in the creative community with me.
It's our time! 🎨💛
Hi Prajna,
This is deeply moving. I so appreciate your willingness to talk about that night when you were at your lowest - feeling like your life was not the one you wanted to live. And then, that shift.
And this:
"We don’t have to love it. What matters is how intimately we’re willing to receive it—and melt in its love."
Giving ourselves permission to feel and honor our true feelings is so necessary. Thank you for your beautiful, inspiring words. I appreciate you.
Dear Nancy.
Did I tell you that my birth name is Nancy? I've gone by Prajna since meeting Adyashanti, it what gifted to me as a reminder to live from 'heart wisdom' and 'to take no shit' as a Bhuddist nun once told me. (For cloe to 30 years, this has been my mantra, I'm in no way perfect—it's a path.)
Thank you so much for receiving this with such tenderness. Yes—that night still echoes in me, but so does the shift.
I’m learning again and again: we don’t have to love the moment we’re in, but we can still let it shape us, soften us, even nourish us.
Your presence here is a gift. I feel the kinship in your words—and I appreciate you joining me here with your wisdom. 💛
Oh my gosh, your birth name is the same as mine. I feel even more connected now. Thank you for sharing that. No one names their child Nancy anymore, right? lol
I'm grateful for your presence, too, Parjna. Hugs.
No, that name is gone. I was born in 57. There was a time when I had four friends by the name of Nancy. We went out ot a club for fun, maybe to meet some dudes (we were all straight at the time). The bouncer and everyone we met dropped their jaw when we said, "I'm Nancy, I'm Nancy, I'm Nancy' I'm Nancy, I'm Nancy" it was fun!
My mother named me after her best friend, my middle name after her sister in law, but I stole my mother's maiden name as O'Hara to honor her forever. Hugs back, new Nancy friend.
Lovely, love-ly! I want to hear more. Exploring your beautiful Substack. Thank you for finding me so I could find you.
Awww Muriel,
So glad we found each other in this quiet corner of the world where words hold depth, beauty, and meaning. Thank you for exploring—I’m honored you’re here. I look forward to reading more of your voice too… already love the exquisite piece I tasted. 💫
Until next time, thank you!