MARCH 2025
I think March 2025 is going to be another wild time – a chaotic micro-era where quantum leaps are possible for those with really good balance.
There’s obviously a lot happening on the world stage and still, we must craft our little lives within all that drama. So this month’s meditations are centered on re-centering - our ability to get our feet back under us, re-open our hearts and keep our head out of the clouds.
Our picks for March, when lined up all together, form a sort of poem…
Waterfall - to learn: “what is beyond these thoughts?”
Atmosphere - to upgrade our auric buffer-zone.
Spotlight - so we can choose where we place our awareness.
Bloom - to revivify us in opening towards what we love.
Also, the last three - Atmosphere, Spotlight and Bloom, are all really short - each about 6 or 7 minutes - so we can do them often and jump right back into the business of living this life we’ve been given.
Enjoy!
Dream BIG, you ARE magic…
Jess
P.S. Pro tip - listen in browser if you can - and join our Parallel Society Substack <3
“After all, well, moon is a polka dot, sun is a polka dot, and then, the earth where we live is also a polka dot.”
—Yayoi Kusama
“Polka dots are a way to infinity.”
—Yayoi Kusama
WATERFALL - 20 minutes
ATMOSPHERE - 7 minutes
SPOTLIGHT - 7 minutes
BLOOM - 6 minutes
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.
Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.
- Pablo Neruda
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RECKLESS POEM
Today again I am hardly myself.
It happens over and over.
It is heaven-sent.
It flows through me
like the blue wave.
Green leaves - you may believe this or not -
have once or twice
emerged from the tips of my fingers
somewhere
deep in the woods,
in the reckless seizure of spring.
Though, of course, I also know that other song,
the sweet passion of one-ness.
Just yesterday I watched an ant crossing a path, through the
tumbled pine needles she toiled.
And I thought: she will never live another life but this one.
And I thought: if she lives her life with all her strength
is she not wonderful and wise?
And I continued this up the miraculous pyramid of everything
until I came to myself.
And still, even in these northern woods, on these hills of sand,
I have flown from the other window of myself
to become white heron, blue whale,
red fox, hedgehog.
Oh, sometimes already my body has felt like the body of a flower!
Sometimes already my heart is a red parrot, perched
among strange, dark trees, flapping and screaming.
- Mary Oliver
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xoxo Jess