Liquid Light

White Feather

A sweet moment stored in your cells that lingers forever.
A lulling sound of a goodnight summer breeze.

A smile, one of a kind, even in your deepest sleep.
Knowing that tomorrow feels like a loving kiss.

A hand as soft and gentle as a feather,
An open, loving, a kind heart –
your life force and your source of happiness and bliss. 

Your dreams and your desires,
your trust, your courage, playfulness transpires,
in and out of the cascading light.

In that bright, fluid, omnipresent light.

At Its Core

The essence of darkness is light

The essence of darkness is light.

We begin to journey into the resting season of the year,
witnessing the trees embrace the winter rest,
the song of birds and crickets lingers in the not-too-distant past.

The rhythm of the passing time slows down,
as darkness casts its thickest veil
we reignite the candlelight, 
to reflect the flame that burns inside.

Not merely waiting for the brighter season.
Instead – we shine forth, 
radiating from the core.
With all the might our cells and hearts soaked in
while the Sun was shining strong and high.
Without a speck of dim.

Rising, shining bright.
As within so without. 
As above so below.
The light is rising out of the dark.

Let’s celebrate the dark,
the festive months of winter tide.

The essence of darkness has always been light.

Take The Leap

Ocean Cliff, Stallions, Woman

Stranded on the ocean cliff.
Or so it seems.

On a bright, full-moon night,
she finds herself.
At peace.
At last.

A gentle, yet fierce beauty,
imbued with a force of hundreds of horses.

Strong, born to be wild,
ready to gallop whenever and wherever she calls.

The glaring sky is filled with millions stars,
From one horizon to the other.

The cold autumn wind is sweeping through the air.
The path is crystal clear.
The chill – she feels it to her bones.

The unexpected leap of fate.
The buck is safe – for now.
The deer – no longer caught in headlights.

Shhhh, slow down my muse, my vital force.
He begins to whistle as she glides with ease.
There is no need to speed.

Too close lurks the edge.
Beware, the ocean’s rough.
The cliffs are rising,
it’s dark, it’s steep.

An exhilarating thrill shines through her eyes.
The steadfast bracing of his heart.

Breathe, co-regulate.
There is no need to rush.
Hold my hand – if you will.

She sails across the seven seas…
the stallions set free.

Savoring their final dance.

Take the leap,
Trust your beat,
Take that chance.

This… is Your Dance.

Perceive to Receive

Eyes of Perception

I perceive.
Eyes receive.
You perceive me.
Your eyes receive me.
How? Is there a difference?
The eyes are the mirror of the soul.
They look to see beyond.
No likes, dislikes, aversions, or attachments.  
When you realize that “Eyes receive”,
you too are ready to “receive.”
Fully, as it is – no filters applied.
Both, light and the absence of light flow through.
Such is my yardstick,
teaching me how to surrender.  
Being soft as mud not hard as a brick.  

There is a Peace…


May the Holy Ones,
whose pupils you aspire to become,
show you the Light you seek,
give you the strong aid of
their Compassion and their Wisdom.

There is a Peace that passeth all understanding,
it abides in the Hearts of Those who live in the eternal.

There is a Power that maketh all things new.
It lives and moves in Those who know the Self as one.

May that Peace brood over you,
that Power uplift you until you stand
where the One Initiator is invoked,
until you see His Star shine forth.


I was not able to recall this beautiful, heartfelt prayer that was given to me years ago, and I was missing it a lot. Thank you Hilde, for sharing it with me again. I’m quite bad remembering dates, but I believe 2008 was the year of the apostolic succession transmitted to me during my priesthood ordination.

The light of the Christ remains very much part of my heart, my spiritual lineage. I have not actively followed the priesthood role, yet it has followed me and finally we have crossed paths again – through a slow, but continuous awakening the Christ consciousness in me.

What lead me to it, why have I followed this path and why does it matter now?

I was brought up by parents of conflicting values. My mum was a Catholic and my dad – let’s just say he did not approve of Catholic ideology. I can’t remember seeing him in a church, apart from the day of his final farewell.

For my mother, church was a place of solace. A site where she could rest and forget about her worries as she dragged me along to Sunday church, against my will. Despite my rebellious behavior – week by week. I did not like dressing up and going to church. I could not sit still, what they preached made no sense. I was restless, fidgety, chatty, I would stuff my ears with my fingers, and be an embarrassment to my mother. I was not fond of the 12 painting successions of the bleeding, suffering man who eventually ends up being roped and nailed on the cross. It looked brutal and made no sense. I did not approve of the patriarchy, their arrogance and disrespect towards human beings; in particular towards the women who were always depicted as being interior.

Most members of our community were going to the church on Sundays, I was no exception. Nearly everyone in Slovenia went through this phase of brainwashing; I had no choice but to attend weekly catholic evening school for 8 years in a row. One of my primary goals was to socialize with my pals and have a good time. I often caused disruption and was a very chatty, highly spirited child; considering priest’s reactions I was probably his least favorite one.

When I entered class 8 I reached the peak of my frustration and gathered enough courage to stand up against the blind preaching and principles that made little or no sense to how I thought about life.

During one of our classes we had a conversation about the abortion and the inevitable sin. I came up with a scenario and posed a question: “Let’s say, for argument sake, that the girl who wants to abort a child is a 15 year old, innocent girl, who was brutally beaten, tortured, and raped by an older, much stronger, drunken man. She was incapable of running away or protecting herself, she barely survived, and she ends up pregnant. She has already suffered enough psychological and physical damage and abuse. She really does not have to be reminded of the torture until the rest of her life. Are you saying she would have committed a sin had she chosen to abort the fetus?”

You can only imagine the expression, the color on his face, and his body language of the priest. The answer was a fuming yes: “Yes, that’s a mortal sin.” I was equally boiling inside, for all the wrongdoing I have felt deep in my core, for all the harm that has ever been done to humanity, to children, and women – all of it, in the name of religion.

My response was surprisingly elegant: “Fine, I will no longer be attending your lessons. To ensure I never have to commit a sin and to avoid the inevitability of such crime, I will rather attend a self-defense class.” That was my final lesson. I was 13 years of age.

I wonder, was the contrary act of a 13 year old girl my first moment of spiritual awakening?

Realization of truth managed to slit through the thick layers of attempted indoctrination – my rebellious nature became my protector, guarding my truth, a value dearest to my heart. I was free from their clutches, thanks to both, my parents, and my strong desire to trust and follow my heart.

Years went by and I forgot all about it until I came across the teachings of Charles Leadbeater. Leadbeater was a spiritualist and a co-founder of Liberal Catholic Church. Originally he was a priest of the Church of England. Later on he was one of the leading figures in Theosophical Society and an associate of Annie Besant. He was the one who recognized Jiddu Krishnamurti when he was a 14 year old boy.

Liberal Catholic Church represents values that honor a more truthful message of Christ, hence my affinity, although I play no part and have no alliance to any organization.

After many rebellious years I ended up being ordained a priestess. It’s true what what they say, what you resist persists. But not necessarily in the same shape, form, or way. I finally found what my heart was looking for in this direction. My initiation was a purification from all the fear and guilt mongering nonsense and attempts to blind me, to keep me away from what I have always known and held close to my heart… pure joy, freedom and light of the enlightened, compassionate one. The light and the love of Christ. With that in my mind and heart, I became at peace within myself. I no longer felt a need to rebel, my heart began to heal and I continued my journey, in a much lighter, fun, and free way.

You see, once you are blessed to be graced, to receive such a precious gift it only becomes a matter of time until you too recognize who you truly are. Just like Christ – a child of light with a pure heart, and the spark in his/her eyes – a light to themselves and all those who seek that same light.

This particular sequence and set of events was part of my journey, however one does not have to go through any such rebellious acts, struggle, or initiation. Too much resistance is often a hindrance on one’s spiritual path. Life can be lived in a much more gentle, graceful, flowing, softer way. Your spark and magnetism will not go unnoticed if that is what you already know that you carry in your heart.

May we always feel the love in our hearts, behold the joy of the Self, and continue seeing the bright shine of the light within.

Om, Awen, Amen