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July 1, 2018



When I reach into the soil

I reach for stars—the miracle


of seed swelling itself into flesh. When

I search for you in the middle of the night


I move towards the beyond—the curve

of your hip a valley I have walked over


and over like a nomad. The cottonwoods

shed their fluffy seed, the tender grass bolts,


the press of summer is upon us. I shift plants

in moonlight to act out this restless stirring


to spread beyond first planting. Tonight

your fingers rub tomato vines, trace the tendrils


of clematis dancing up the lattice on the axis

of the sky. Already we have forgotten


the barren nights. And in the fullness

of this heat, we stand on teetering apple ladders,


reaching for the fruit just beyond the green fur

of leaf—our want a kite tugging to get off its leash.


Then where would we go? Would we find sky

in that floating? Or would we long only for our feet


on the ground, hands in the earth, mouth

upon mouth in a wild, unweeded garden?



~What is your relationship to your own longing, eros and sensuality?

~How does your relationship with the natural world feed and nourish your sensual self?


©Laura Weaver

Photo by Pixabay on


Soul Wringing

May 29, 2018


In the dream, a wise man and I fall to the earth

laughing over nothing, our bellies quaking

on warm soil, the air filled with our delight.


He has recently been to the edge of death—

his body riddled with parasites,

and now—miraculously well again.


I ask him what his illness taught him.

And he says: It was an experience of soul wringing

my soul wrung out of every pride, 


every arrogance, every prized accolade.

I see it in his face—the way this wringing

brought his joy back, how he was restored


by letting go of what seemed most precious—

how now he can give himself

all he could never before receive.


In the dream, this man is a beloved teacher

and I, a kind of daughter learning the ways

to whole my own heart. And this soul wringing—


not some penance or punishment,

but more of a gracious peacemaking—

where each morning I gather


morning dew from the tongues of grass

and drink each drop—one by one.

©Laura Weaver



The Feast

April 30, 2018


It is green and teeming again,

the soils supple after years of drought—

after the parched places

called like a lover for rain,

after empty reservoirs

filled overnight, and the earth

offered her great generosity

so that everything is opening,

blooming, gleaming

with sweet golden light.


There is so much

we could resist in this life—

drought and famine and flood,

the turning of every season,

the arrival of each decade,

the falling away of a beloved,

our own aging bodies, every betrayal

or hurt we have ever held close.

We could spend every moment resisting.


For this mammalian heart aches—

we attach, hold on, scan the field

for potential loss. We love so intensely,

we push love away—lest it break us.

And yet to inhabit this body

in every cell, with no holding back,

we cannot avoid touching those

trembling notes of our impermanence—

those strands in our lives which

arrive for a time, but cannot stay.

We cannot avoid risking everything.



For in this exquisite love affair

the world will court us again and again—

and in this awakening of spring,

we will forget the other seasons of lack—

as we are reborn, renewed, unwrapped.

And the heat of earth’s wild eros

will rise through us—the poppies bursting

their seams, the fillies cantering

in the just born grasses,

the creeks racing high and fast.

And we think—yes, perhaps it will

always be like this—now that I have

emerged from this final winter of my soul.


But all of our seasons will come around again—

grief and passion and fear

loneliness and ecstasy—

they will all knock on the door.

And perhaps, in our forgetting,

we will be surprised by these 

familiar strangers who come

in the dark hollow of the night—

or perhaps we will remember this feast

we were invited to long ago—

and we will lay the table with devotion,

pour the wine, and laugh with delight

with all that is offered,

here, now, for all time.

©Laura Weaver

first published on

The Ocean Inside

March 11, 2018


“That Beloved has gone completely Wild – He has poured Himself into me! I am Blissful and Drunk and Overflowing.” ~From: The Great Secret

The beloved says: there is an ocean inside you—
and all it takes to swim here is to surrender.
And you who have become a master
of delving the depths, shedding skin after skin,
letting go of the old, rising up from
your own phoenix ash—you say oh yes,
I know this wild sea.
But the beloved says—wait, there is more.
For still, within you there have been hold outs—
places that braced against the harsh boot
of the world. Tensile webs protecting
intricate chambers from desecration.
Secret caves where hidden jewels shine.
And no, it will not be the crack of the hammer,
or the cruel weight of a cruel god,
or the sweltering heat that binds you
into submitting to this ocean. Nor will it be
the will of any other who convinces,
but simply the lion’s roar of an unfettered love
so freely given, you simply remember
the ocean that you are.
This is how the heat of the divine within
grows from a flicker to a hot holy fire—
this is how stars bloom from the void
and forests grow from broken open husks.
This is the way the beloved woos you
into tasting your own nectar, into entering
the very blossom of the milky way. Yes,
this is how the beloved points you home.
©Laura Weaver
***Excerpted from the upcoming book LUMINOUS, available this spring 2018 (you can subscribe to blog!)



The book is coming! It’s been quite the birthing process, with many unforseen delays–but just finished the whole book (covers included) design and I am really delighted. I will share a picture of it soon. Life is a mystery. Looking like it will be late April before I have book in hand. Can’t wait to share it and will be doing readings–so if you want to help arrange a reading near you, please message me or reach out at Blessings and love!

Ps. There is still time to contribute — I am still $700 shy of my goal! ALL funds go directly to pay for book design and publishing.

First Flight

February 14, 2018


The clear bead at the center changes everything.

There are no edges to my loving now.

-Rumi, Tr. C. Barks & J. Moyne, “Open Secret”


There were edges to my loving—

places where countries clashed along borders,

where lovers were not admitted,

where the thicket grew thick and impenetrable

to keep out savage creatures ambling

about in the dark, smelling of musk.


There were edges to my loving~

places to guard, gardens to endlessly tend~

the project of myself that took such devotion~

voices in my head I did not want heard

by another who might lean over in the night

and kiss away such tender uncertainties.


There were edges to my loving~

there was the wild one of me

who did not want taming,

the one who believed someone else held

the keys to my freedom, the primal roar

of the lioness who said: I will belong to no one 

but myself, so I cannot belong to you.


There were edges to my loving.

But then came the tearing wind,

and the sheets of rain, the storms

on the high seas, the sunlight on bare skin,

and the eyes of god blazing through my heart

at dawn. Then came the beasts crashing

through the thickets, despite my best laid plans.

Yes, then came life softening

the edges again and again.


And one night I woke up from a dream

to my own laughter, to a knowing of my love

rippling out in endless circles. And in my bones

I felt what has always been free,

this sovereignty that does not require

guarding or liberating. And from here~

belonging to everything~ I walked out of the cage

of my own making, unfurled these gossamer wings

and tasted true flight for the first time.

©Laura Weaver

first published on

*Excerpted from the upcoming book LUMINOUS




February 7, 2018
Certain wild places appear in your dreams—
sing to you in the middle of the night,
speak your name in between tasks,
so that finally you listen. It is then
you remember how to make a pathway
to meet what calls. Coming with only your faith—
arriving, to find you are noticed.
Fiddleheads unfurl in sunlight.
Mycelial networks quicken
with footfall. Violet butterflies sip
from mud where you press palms
to feel warmth moving in earth again. 
This is an ordinary transfiguration.
A simple alchemy.  You have whispered
a thousand prayers to get here. You have traveled
a long way in body or soul, to come with hands
outstretched in offering, in longing. When the waves
rush over the rocks, when the tidal pull whips
the silverlight waters into a froth at your feet,
you know that mercy is everywhere.
Your soul is a door, but a doorway to what? 
This, the place asks you gently and then relentlessly,
until you empty your pockets of the tangled
fishing lines of lineage and the stories
you thought you must carry—until
you turn yourself inside out to be revealed.


~What wild places call you—within and without?
~How is your soul a doorway? And where does it lead?

©Laura Weaver 2018 (excerpted from the upcoming book Luminous

*first published on soul

NOTE ON THE BOOK LUMINOUS–I am in the home stretch! The cover and inside are designed and publication and soft launch will happen in March! I’m so excited. And if you are still interested in contributing the Go Fund Me for the last stretch–please DO (I’m close to my goal but not quite there yet)! Thank you for everyone for your incredible support.  I am so excited to share this book with you.

The Story

January 30, 2018



Step closer to the story that scares you~

the one that has you gasping for air

in the night, searching for ground.

This one wants to take you past

the lip of the void to the birthplace

of stars, where all stories dissolve

into the blessing of original song.


Turn your wild horses out

into the fields in the morning,

when first light purples the hills.

They are hungry for this earth

under hoof, this thunder of full gallop.

They may trample all the places

you have so carefully tended.

They may leave you in a cloud of dust.

And yet, this is the only way

they will return to you truly,

without a fence to keep them in.


Leap into the love that terrifies—

you know just what it will do.

It will un-hinge every door in your house.

It will blow in like a hurricane

and re-arrange your furniture.

It will howl like a banshee through your bones

and leave you delightfully hollow.

Without this love you are only playing

at this life– and you are so tired of that!


Let the current lift you

out of the churning eddy. 

There is only one place where this river flows—

through slot canyons and the eyes of midnight,

through singing valleys and greening glens.

These holy waters will have their way with you.

They are dreaming you into a body of light.

Why fight what you most long for?

©Laura Weaver 2015

*first published on soul

excerpted from the upcoming book Luminous 

NOTE ON THE BOOK LUMINOUS–I am in the home stretch! The cover and inside are designed and publication and soft launch will happen in late February or early March! I’m so excited. And if you are still interested in contributing the Go Fund Me for the last stretch–please DO! Thank you for everyone for your incredible support.  I am so excited to share this book with you.

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