Podcast Episode: We Are Only One Song Away From Spring

Posted on by under Consciousness, Spirituality
Rows of small green plants growing in a field with sunlight rays.
Sunlight beams illuminate neat rows of young plants in a rural field at sunrise.

Pip: Classroom Mothership Earth — where the astrological, the political, and the deeply personal all share one frequency, and somehow it holds together.

Mara: Today we’re working through a piece by Ari Joshua Bouse that moves across a lot of terrain — political transition, the Aquarian Age, disclosure, and the spiritual calendar between winter and spring. Let’s start with that overarching question of where we actually are right now.

We Are Only One Song Away From Spring

Pip: The frame here is a moment of overlap — a political transition happening inside a much larger cosmic one, and the question of how those two timescales interact when you’re trying to stay grounded.

Mara: The post anchors that overlap in the seasonal calendar, and near the end it lands on Groundhog Day specifically: “Meditation on the in between times, mystical, mysterious energies, inner planes, echoing silence, void, and heartbeat” are offered as the right callbacks for this moment.

Pip: So the upshot is that Groundhog Day isn’t a punchline here — it’s the midpoint between Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox, and the post treats that threshold as genuinely instructive about how change actually moves.

Mara: Right, and that’s the structural argument running through the whole piece. The political relief of a new administration fades fast — the post is direct about that — because the chattering monkey mind starts up again quickly. The deeper shift is astrological: a move from the Pisces Age to the Aquarian Age, measured in millennia, not election cycles.

Pip: Which is a useful corrective to anyone who thought January 20th was the finish line.

Mara: The post makes a careful point there about the people on different sides of that political moment. It says that most Trump voters “are not Nazis, Klan members or racists” but have been shaped by a divisive mindset that pushes everyone toward an us-versus-them frame — and that neither progressive nor conservative values hold a monopoly on the way forward.

Pip: And then it pivots — genuinely pivots — into UFO disclosure, which lands as less of a detour than you’d expect, because the argument is that ET concern for Earth is tied to humanity’s development of nuclear weapons. The stakes are planetary either way.

Mara: The post treats disclosure as a process, not an event. And it closes with something practical: I-messages, feeling statements, the right to say “I feel offended by that comment” and stand there without having to defend it. Personal authority as the ground-level version of the same sovereignty the post argues for cosmically.

Pip: Spring is underground. It’s firing, just not visible yet — which is maybe the whole thesis in one image.

Mara: The thread through all of this is the in-between — politically, seasonally, cosmically. The darkness isn’t the destination; it’s the passage.

Pip: You can’t get to the light if you won’t go through the dark. We’ll be back with more from Classroom Mothership Earth.

We Are Only One Song Away From Spring

Podcast Episode: Animal Symbols And Inner Wisdom

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A bear standing at the edge of a river looking at a heron standing on a small grassy patch in the water, with snowy mountains and pine trees in the background under a colorful sunset sky.
A heron and brown bear share a peaceful space at a river at sunset with mountains in the background.

Pip: Classroom Mothership Earth — where the stock market, the moon cycle, and a great blue heron all show up to the same staff meeting.

Mara: Ari Joshua Bouse brings us two posts this week, and they cover real territory: what Bear medicine asks of us when the world tilts toward excess, and what Heron teaches about standing on your own two legs in murky water.

Pip: Let’s start with the bear in the room.

Bear Medicine And Introspection

Mara: The central question in Shared Constellations With Bear is whether we know how to go inward — not as retreat, but as a kind of recalibration when the outer world gets loud and grasping.

Pip: The post sets up that contrast directly: “Standing in the space of knowing is a marketing free zone — when we enter the center of a circle, there is nobody to convince or sway.”

Mara: Which is a pretty clean description of what meditation actually does. It removes the audience. You stop performing and start listening.

Pip: Bear Medicine, the post argues, is introspection — and the timing matters. We’re moving toward Winter Solstice, toward yin, toward dimming light. The post reads that as an invitation rather than a loss.

Mara: And it extends that into economics. The Taoist idea of investing in loss gets applied to a Bear market — the suggestion being that our bullish, expansive material emphasis needs its own hibernation. The post asks directly whether greed and arrogance can be allowed to rest.

Pip: Revolutionary zeal without the hate, as it puts it. That’s a tight ask, but the post holds the tension honestly rather than papering over it.

Mara: It also distinguishes prayer from meditation in practical terms — prayer as active and outward, meditation as receptive and inward. Two modes, both necessary, neither sufficient alone.

Pip: And our treatment of bears, the post notes, is a mirror. How we handle the actual animals tells us something about how serious we are about the rest.

Mara: That’s the pivot from inner work to outer consequence — which is exactly where Heron picks up.

Heron, Moon, And Rugged Individualism

Pip: Powered By Blue Heron opens with a Strawberry Full Moon and lands immediately on a question about self-reliance — what it actually looks like when it’s practiced rather than just claimed.

Mara: The post frames it this way: “It is good medicine to hear when to be sharp, understand when to stick your neck out and snatch an opportunity, and know how to stand on your own two legs.”

Pip: That’s rugged individualism described as discernment, not just stubbornness. There’s timing involved.

Mara: Right, and Heron’s physicality carries the argument. Long legs grounded in the earth, wading through murky water — the post uses that image to push back against the idea that spiritual practice means leaving your body behind.

Pip: The post actually names that tendency directly — people traveling into alternate realities while leaving their bodies behind — and Heron is the corrective. Come back. Root down.

Mara: Mercury in Retrograde appears here too, framed as a revisitation of old selves and past relationships — not as disruption but as information. The question it surfaces is who you want to become now.

Pip: And the post makes room for the generalist. In a world of specialization, it argues we need people who can see the big picture — “many roads to get to your destination” is how it puts it.

Mara: Heron’s final move is perspective. The post describes it as flying away from a “that’s just the way we’ve always done it” mentality into, as it says, “shores of infinite solution-focused possibilities.”

Pip: Bear goes inward to find stillness. Heron comes back out and wades forward anyway.

Mara: That’s the through line — and probably a good place to sit with it.

Pip: Bear and Heron, inward and outward — the posts keep circling the same question from different angles.

Mara: How do you stay grounded when the world is noisy, and how do you move when the water is murky. More of that next time.

Powered By Blue Heron, We Wade Through Life’s Waters With Rugged Individualism

Podcast Episode: New Published Material Revisited

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Open weathered book titled 'Storms & Seas' on wet sand with waves washing over it
An old, worn book is partially submerged as ocean waves wash over it on a beach.

Hi Folks! Mercury in Retrograde goes back direct today. As my wise old spiritual counselor Leo would say, keep in mind that the mental fog tends to lift & clear up over the next 10 days or so. Also, be patient with left brain cognition & machines as they come back online during this time. In the meantime, please enjoy this new AI 2 person podcast as an appetizer for my newest book:

Ladies and Gentlemen…Introducing AI Podcast Characters Pip & Mara On Ari’s Multimedia Writing:

Pip: Climate grief, ancestral memory, and the kind of soul wounds that don’t show up on an X-ray — Classroom Mothership Earth is not pulling punches this week.

Mara: Ari Joshua Bouse has been publishing through Edge of Humanity Magazine, and the work lands squarely on climate change, trauma, and what we carry from those who came before us. Let’s start with the new published material and what it’s actually doing.

New Published Material

Pip: The through-line across these pieces is a question worth sitting with: what does climate change cost us emotionally, spiritually, and across generations — not just ecologically?

Mara: The series is titled “A Novel Read into the New Shorelines of Climate Change,” and the post announces it plainly: “Please see my newly published writings via Edge of Humanity Magazine.”

Pip: That framing — new shorelines — does real work. Shorelines shift. They don’t vanish cleanly; they encroach. Using that as a metaphor for what climate change does to inner life as much as coastline is a choice worth noticing.

Mara: The series spans three distinct pieces. The first is a poem called “Overcoming Deep Traumatic Soul Wounds” — which puts psychological injury right alongside environmental upheaval, treating them as the same conversation.

Pip: Which they arguably are. The literature on climate grief has been making exactly that case for a decade, and here it’s arriving as verse rather than a journal abstract.

Mara: The second piece, “Weathering Changing Weather Patterns,” shifts register slightly — the title itself is doing double duty, the literal and the internal sitting on top of each other. And the third, “Remembering Our Ancestors,” is another poem, this one pulling the lens back to lineage and what prior generations understood about living with a changing earth.

Pip: So you have trauma, adaptation, and ancestral knowledge — three movements that together make something closer to a full emotional map of the climate moment than any single essay could.

Mara: All three sit inside a larger project that Edge of Humanity Magazine is running under that “New Shorelines” banner, which suggests this isn’t a one-off but an ongoing body of work finding its public form.

Pip: Poetry as climate literature — not the most obvious delivery mechanism, but possibly the most honest one.

Mara: The shoreline metaphor keeps expanding the more you sit with it — what’s eroding, what’s being redrawn, what we’re trying to hold onto.

Pip: Next time, more from the edge. Worth watching where those shorelines move.

Please enjoy the previously published poetry excerpts from my latest book at the link below:

New Published Material

Podcast Episode: Peering Into Our Spirituality With Owl Revisited

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Neon-style glowing owl perched on a branch surrounded by stars
A luminous owl perched on a branch glowing with neon-like lines against a starry background.

Pip: Classroom Mothership Earth — where the owl is always watching, the solstice is always coming, and the political metaphors are never quite finished with you.

Mara: Ari Joshua Bouse brings us into that territory today — spirituality, seasonal transition, and the harder questions about power, information, and what we choose to see in the dark. Let’s start with the owl.

Peering Into Our Spirituality With Owl

Pip: The frame here is the approaching Winter Solstice — the darkest day on the calendar — and the question of what that darkness asks of us spiritually, personally, and politically.

Mara: The post opens with exactly that lens: “Owl peers into dark nights with the light of empathic vision” — and from there it tracks what that vision might illuminate as the year contracts toward its lowest light.

Pip: So the owl isn’t decoration. It’s a way of asking what we can see precisely because we’re willing to look into uncomfortable places — grief, loss, the parts of ourselves that are waning along with the season.

Mara: That personal register runs through the whole piece. There’s a line about saying goodbye to old selves, to loved ones who have passed, to the ghosts of yesteryear — and then a pivot: “Remember a rainbow’s arrival reflects color back onto your soul.”

Pip: The grief gets company. That’s the move.

Mara: And then the post widens the lens considerably — out to the political, to questions about JFK declassification, to what gets suppressed in the name of national security, and whether the spirit of “We the People” is structurally in tension with protecting what the post calls “the minority of the opulent.”

Pip: The owl, it turns out, has opinions about the Military-Industrial Complex. Fair enough — so did a lot of owls in 1963.

Mara: The post holds those threads together by treating them as the same problem: a seductive mindset that believes people are inherently bad and need to be controlled. The prescription is “openness, trust and an authentically heartfelt solution-focused perspective” — and the warning is that apocalyptic thinking, once it’s target-marketed, becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Pip: Which is a genuinely sharp observation. The machinery that profits from fear needs the fear to stay legible and renewable.

Mara: The post asks directly whether exposing establishment suppression is principle or narcissism — and leaves that question open, which feels honest.

Pip: Darkness, vision, what we’re willing to name — that’s the whole season, really.

Mara: Empathic vision as a practice — that’s what ties the personal grief and the political questions together here.

Pip: The owl keeps watch. We’ll see what it spots next time.

Peering Into Our Spirituality With Owl

Podcast Episode: Even on the Surface, Conscious Breathing has Great Depth

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Rough sea waves hitting rocky coastline with grassy cliffs and a lighthouse in the distance under dark clouds
Cloudy skies loom over rugged cliffs and crashing waves along the coastline with a distant lighthouse.

Pip: Classroom Mothership Earth — where the dolphins have lesson plans and the moon has opinions about your breathing.

Mara: Ari Joshua Bouse writes here at the intersection of natural cycles, embodied awareness, and the kind of inner work that tends to surface when the season is turning. Today we’re looking at conscious breathing, dolphin intelligence, and what the body already knows.

Pip: Let’s start with the breath itself.

Even on the Surface, Conscious Breathing has Great Depth

Mara: The post opens with animal wisdom as a frame for self-examination — dolphin as guide, tide as teacher, and the question of whether we’re actually paying attention to any of it.

Pip: The post puts it directly: “Do you need to pay more attention to your intellectual development, or communication issues regarding the psychology of self in relationship?”

Mara: So the upshot is that the dolphin imagery isn’t decoration — it’s a diagnostic. The question is whether your communication patterns, internally and outward, are actually working for you or just running on autopilot.

Pip: And the prescription is almost comically simple, which is maybe the point — pause, breathe, think before speaking. The Military-Industrial Empire gets called out specifically as something that could use a deep exhale.

Mara: The post frames feminine energy as building sustainable momentum “gradually, gently and softly” — a direct counterweight to the force-and-projection model it’s critiquing. Emotional cleansing, dreamtime, releasing old wounds — these aren’t metaphors to set aside; they’re the actual curriculum.

Pip: There’s a seasonal anchor too. A Full Worm Moon, returning earthworms, maple sap beginning to flow, robins arriving. The breath practice lands inside a specific biological moment.

Mara: “Altered states and New Dimensions are accessed when inner sounds reverberate in outer manifestations.” The rhythm of the post mirrors what it’s describing — breath in, breath out, the inner and the outer in sync.

Pip: Right. And the closing image — masculine and feminine energies swimming together in synchronized waves by Spring Equinox — earns its finish. The post signs off: “I hardly think a showcase of collective Olympic gold medals could touch that.”

Mara: That’s the stakes as the post frames them. Not performance, not achievement — just the actual turning of the season, met consciously, with breath intact.

Pip: Which is either very humble or extremely ambitious, depending on how you’re breathing right now.

Mara: The tides, the breath, the seasonal turn — these keep showing up as the real curriculum here.

Pip: More from Classroom Mothership Earth next time. Stay on your board.

Even on the Surface, Conscious Breathing has Great Depth

Podcast Episode: Swimming with Otter and Getting in Touch with Our Feminine Side

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Swirling blue and green water flowing over textured, layered brown and gray rocks
Swirling blue water blends seamlessly with layered, textured rocks creating an abstract pattern

Pip: Classroom Mothership Earth — where the curriculum includes otter medicine, elemental water, and the Sacred Feminine, and attendance is apparently taken by the universe itself.

Mara: Ari Joshua Bouse brings us into that territory today — feminine energy as a living force, what the otter symbolizes, and how all of it connects to the way we move through daily life.

Pip: Let’s start with the otter.

—

Swimming with Otter: Feminine Power and Letting Go

Mara: The central question here is whether we’ve lost touch with the qualities the otter embodies — playfulness, empathy, flow — and what it costs us when we have.

Pip: The post opens with the otter as a symbol and then turns it into a direct challenge, setting up the quote with a question about how we love: “Do you know the power of love without jealousy? Have you experienced the joy of loving other people’s kids and their accomplishments as much as your own?”

Mara: That’s the hinge of the whole piece. It moves from animal symbolism into something concrete — whether we can genuinely celebrate others, or whether we’re quietly keeping score.

Pip: And then it gets elemental. Earth and ocean as feminine forces, rivers flowing into the sea — the imagery is doing real conceptual work, not just decoration.

Mara: Right. The post frames water as a model for how energy moves: “Water gradually building momentum… Flooding us with waves of Sacred Feminine tides into our energetic seas.” The argument is that this quality — receptive, accumulating, eventually overwhelming — is something every person carries regardless of gender.

Pip: Which is where the otter stops being a nature documentary and starts being a mirror. Are you clinging to outcomes? Addicted to worry? The post is asking whether your daily operating mode is more like a dam than a river.

Mara: There’s a line that cuts through the more lyrical passages: “To accept the present moment as it is does not mean we condone what is.” That’s a careful distinction — presence isn’t passivity.

Pip: The piece also names the rescuer trap — running a constant crisis operation for everyone else while your own garden goes untended. That one lands.

Mara: And it closes with Mercury in Retrograde as a prompt to release left-brain control and move from intuition instead. Whether or not you track planetary cycles, the underlying point is about when calculation stops serving you.

Pip: The otter, it turns out, is just asking you to let go of the shore.

—

Mara: Feminine energy as flow, empathy as a practice, the present moment as neither approval nor surrender — that’s the terrain today.

Pip: More from the mothership next time. Bring your own river.

Swimming with Otter and Getting in Touch with Our Feminine Side

Podcast Episode: Fellow Luminous Souls Traveling Together In Collective Cosmic Consciousness . .

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Pip: Classroom Mothership Earth — where the curriculum includes shamans, quantum leaps, and the in-sound from way out. Ari Joshua Bouse has been writing, and the assignment is consciousness itself.

Mara: This episode follows one extended meditation on collective awakening — what it means to move beyond the noise, find stillness, and recognize our shared ground. Let’s start with that territory.

Fellow Luminous Souls Traveling Together In Collective Cosmic Consciousness

Pip: The post sets up a lineage — shamans, the Buddha, the Christ — and asks what it looks like when a critical mass of people today actually follows that thread toward something beyond the ordinary channel of reality.

Mara: The piece builds toward exactly that possibility, and here is the spine of it: “A critical mass of people are now seeing through the smoke and mirrors that front as an illusionary curtain behavioral trap that is sold, bought and processed as everyday reality.”

Pip: So the claim is that consensus reality isn’t a neutral backdrop — it’s a product. And the work of awakening is recognizing you’ve been handed a script.

Mara: Right, and the post traces several traditions that have named this. Indigenous Australians held their Dreamtime as more real than the Western version of reality. The Buddha faced suffering directly rather than routing around it. The through-line is that the exit from the nightmare requires turning toward it, not away.

Pip: There is something almost counterintuitive about that — the way out is through, which is not the advice most of us get from the algorithm.

Mara: The post names what blocks that passage pretty specifically: “attached doubts, fears, mental tapes, concepts, and compartmentalized cognitions” — what it calls the Chattering Monkey Mind or the Reptilian Brain. The upshot is that identification with that noise is the only thing that makes us miss the boat.

Pip: And the destination, once you hop off the lily pad, is described as “free flowing expanding spaciousness” where joy and light become normative rather than exceptional.

Mara: The post closes with Unity Consciousness as the frame — the recognition that we are part of Cosmic Oneness, connected to each other and everything. It ends with a genuine question: “What’s your Light Language?” It also comes with a recorded guided meditation, Ari reading the piece aloud, which gives the whole thing a different texture than a written essay alone.

Pip: The page asks you to sit with it, not just scroll past it.

Mara: The thread running through all of this is permission — permission to step off the default reel and into something quieter and wider.

Pip: Next time, we’ll see what else is traveling in from that direction.

Fellow Luminous Souls Traveling Together In Collective Cosmic Consciousness . . .

Podcast Episode: Releasing Old Stories, and Reworking New Scripts Revisited

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Bright multicolored light trails flowing across a detailed star-filled galaxy background
Vibrant streams of colorful light weave across a starry cosmic scene

Pip: Classroom Mothership Earth — where Buddhist philosophy, seasonal calendars, and folk music all arrive at the same front door, and somehow that door is always open.

Mara: Today we’re following Ari Joshua Bouse into territory that covers releasing old stories, rewriting personal scripts, and what impermanence actually asks of us in practice.

Pip: Let’s start with the old stories themselves.

Releasing Old Stories, Reworking New Scripts

Mara: The central question here is whether impermanence is something we endure or something we can actually work with — and the post opens by reaching into early Buddhist thought for an answer.

Pip: The framing comes straight from the source: “The early Buddhist texts view death not as a final end, but as a transitional gateway within a continuous cycle of existence. The Buddha taught that while grief is a natural response to the arrow of loss, true transformation occurs when we stop fighting impermanence and recognize our deeply interconnected nature.”

Mara: So the upshot is that grief isn’t the obstacle — resistance to impermanence is. That distinction matters because it shifts the work from suppressing feeling to changing your relationship with change itself.

Pip: And the post doesn’t just leave that as philosophy. It points to a growing body of scientific research reinforcing exactly that spiritual claim — the idea that interconnection isn’t metaphor, it’s measurable.

Mara: The seasonal dimension adds another layer. Imbolc is arriving in the Southern Hemisphere in early August — the midpoint between Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox — while the Northern Hemisphere marks Lammas, the midpoint between Summer Solstice and Autumn Equinox. Two hemispheres, same threshold energy.

Pip: Mercury retrograde gets an honorable mention as the occasion to revisit the original 2020 post this piece is reworking — which is either cosmically timed or conveniently timed, and the post is cheerful about both possibilities.

Mara: Pete Seeger comes in here too. The post draws a direct line between meditation and protest folk music — the idea that a good folk song, like a good practice, gets the job done without the frills, and that together we can co-author new narratives by unplugging from old scripts.

Pip: There’s even a bumper sticker — a Monarch Butterfly with a political punchline — offered as evidence that spirituality includes a healthy, playful detachment from the world’s heaviness. The post closes with a blessing for all beings to awaken to unity consciousness, and it earns the landing.

Mara: The thread running through all of it is that separation is the illusion, and releasing old stories is how you stop rehearsing it.

Pip: Impermanence, interconnection, and the occasional well-placed bumper sticker — not a bad toolkit.

Mara: Next time, we’ll see what other thresholds the mothership is tracking.

Releasing Old Stories, and Reworking New Scripts Revisited

Releasing Old Stories, and Reworking New Scripts Revisited

Posted on by under Consciousness, Spirituality, Uncategorized
Hiker with backpack standing on rocky cliff overlooking ocean and sunset
A hiker stands on rocky cliffs overlooking the ocean at sunset.

“The early Buddhist texts view death not as a final end, but as a transitional gateway within a continuous cycle of existence (samsara). The Buddha taught that while grief is a natural response to the arrow of loss, true transformation occurs when we stop fighting impermanence and recognize our deeply interconnected nature.” 

Moreover, a growing body of scientific research is further reinforcing the old spiritual truth vis a vis the quote above; as you will see in the video clip below:

Furthermore, notice that the Imbolc will be happening in the Souther Hemisphere in early August.

Remember that the Imbolc is the approximate halfway point between their Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox. Some folks celebrate the Imbolc on the first or second day of the month, while this year some focus on August 7 as the sacred date.

In the Northern Hemisphere, the Llamas will be honoring the approximate mid-point between the Summer Solstice and Autumn Equinox at this time.

Given that Mercury is still in Retrograde till July 23rd, check out the revisited related original past poetic prose by clicking on the link below.

Releasing Old Stories, and Reworking New Scripts

Additionally, in much the same way as meditation, Pete Seeger’s pro-humanitarian civil rights protest music recognized that a good folk song can get the job done without the frills.

Together, we can co-create a more welcoming, accepting and fair and just society for everyone when we unplug from old scripts and co-author new narratives:

And just yesterday, I saw a bumper sticker that featured a picture of a Monarch Butterfly with the accompanying lyrics, “the only orange monarch I support.” Got a full bellied laugh out of that one!

Photo by Steven Purdy on Pexels.com

Keep in mind that spirituality as a way of life embodies a playful, light-hearted, and healthy felt sense of detachment from the heaviness of the world.

We are all interconnected.

Besides, the heavily orchestrated shadowy program that parrots that we are separate from one another is merely a finely flat tuned illusionary chorus, if you’ll pardon the music pun.

May all Beings be free from suffering, and awaken to Unity Consciousness, Cosmic Consciousness, God Consciousness, Universal Pillars of Love and Truth, Inner Peace and Diversity within Unity!

Till next time,

Ari

Podcast Episode: Orbs Of Light Meditative Poem Revisited

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Cross-section of Earth showing crust, mantle, outer core, and glowing inner core beneath a forest and village
Cross-section of Earth showing layers beneath a thriving landscape

Pip: Classroom Mothership Earth — where climate prophecy, cosmic meditation, and the occasional UFO all share a zip code.

Mara: Today we’re looking at work from Ari Joshua Bouse — a meditative poem that moves from climate grief through the zodiac and out to the edges of the universe. Let’s start with the poem itself and what it’s reaching for.

Orbs Of Light: A Meditation on Expanding Awareness

Pip: This poem isn’t just a meditation exercise — it’s a cosmology. It opens with climate grief and the suffering of sentient beings, then pivots toward something like a spiritual antidote. The question it’s asking is: what do you do with that grief?

Mara: The poem sets up the movement from darkness toward light early, and then delivers the actual practice: “Picture a growing golden white orb of light illuminating your soul and then let it travel with your consciousness outward — first filling the room, making its way through your home, community, region, planet and then to the edge of the Universe and back to the home of your breath.”

Pip: So the meditation is literally a scale exercise — you start in your chest and end at the edge of everything. That’s not a metaphor for healing; it’s the mechanism.

Mara: Right, and the poem frames that expansion in physical terms too — “Feel expansion and then contraction of the Universe” maps the cosmos onto breath. The inhalation and exhalation become a model for how awareness moves.

Pip: There’s also an astrological scaffolding underneath all of this — Aries, Pisces, the Aquarian New Age — which positions the meditation inside a larger turning of ages, not just a Tuesday morning breathing exercise.

Mara: And then the poem directs that orb outward with real specificity. It names Ukrainian and Russian people, Black and Indigenous people, whales, dolphins, USOs and UFOs — and then reaches further: “Send it to mythical creatures of folklore. For on some level, they too exist and deserve an equitable passport in sovereignty.”

Pip: An equitable passport in sovereignty — for creatures of folklore. I respect the commitment to leaving no one out of the universal health plan.

Mara: The closing line pulls it together: “We are Starseed Children of the Creator. Humans are part of a universal tapestry. But we are not the only ones.” The poem ends not on human centrality but on plurality — a shared cosmos.

Pip: Climate grief in, cosmic solidarity out. That’s the arc.

Pip: From grief to orbs to folklore creatures holding valid passports — the range here is genuinely its own thing.

Mara: The throughline is expansion: personal breath, planetary care, universal belonging. Worth sitting with.

Orbs Of Light Meditative Poem