~ In the women’s circle, we share.  Every voice is mine.  I hear, and I grok it all, every story, every tear.

~ I pick up the round cut glass crystal I loved so much last night in the candlelight~~the hole in the tree.  Then it looked black, glowing with heart of ruby pink, yellow ring, green, outer ring blue.  Today in the sunlight as I move it, it reflects rays of color, glints and gleams.

We are the many facets.  We make up one beautiful thing, always changing.

I am loving each and every one of us, each facet of this eye of the dragonfly, eye of the damselfly, eye of the baby dragon.

What we can see with this eye!

~My songs!  All my songs!

I have written a song for every woman’s story here, because they are my stories.  All of them.

This is what a boddhisattva is: one who holds all the stories.

How can I

~hold the story

~write the song

~love the teller ~~ as I so do?

I am the bodhisattva and I am the limited me.

I need the limited me

to feel everything so that I can

~hold the story

~write the song

~love the teller.

So.  It is all good.