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ASHLEY WILSON FELLERS

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Tag: meditations

February 19, 2018A // W // F

first flower …

Manna Meditations, Day 40 Know this, friend: The darkness cannot last. 💛

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February 18, 2018A // W // F

finding the light on the long rainwet road …

💛

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February 16, 2018February 16, 2018A // W // F

signs of things to come …

Manna Meditations, Day 38 Spring curls warm within the cold hard dark… It huddles, underground. It waits in the tips of branches. It unfurls slow inside my chest… It will not be stopped. 💛

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February 15, 2018A // W // F

storm passing over …

Manna Meditations, Day 37 Yesterday… The sky is bruised black in places … and still, the light shines through: Think, for a moment, about what this might mean. 💛

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February 12, 2018A // W // F

finding the light on a rainwet night …

Manna Meditations, Day 34 At the streetlight, liquid gold drips through the lean-limbed pears: I’m grateful. 💛

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February 9, 2018A // W // F

this is what respite looks like …

Manna Meditations, Day 32 💛

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February 8, 2018February 8, 2018A // W // F

seeing into the future …

Manna Meditations, Day 31 Yesterday, in a moment of joy, I lifted my iPhone to a dogwood branch knotted with small dark buds – the hope of things to come. By accident, though, I snapped a photo of my own upturned face, lit with quiet wonder. I offer these two images today in humble recognition […]

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February 7, 2018May 8, 2019A // W // F

when i find holy ground in the weedy underbrush …

I am going to tell you a story, and you will probably not believe me.

I’m deciding that’s okay…

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February 6, 2018February 6, 2018A // W // F

headfirst into the wonder …

Manna Meditations, Day 29 There are those who travel the world to witness the cataracts … Niagara. Victoria. Angel. Iguazo.  But yesterday, I stand on a cliff in my ordinary town, watching the blonde grass plunge in a perfect cascade and come crashing down to the treeline below: And I am overcome – for the […]

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February 5, 2018A // W // F

after the ice storm …

Manna Meditations, Day 28 The ice that encased us inside all day gives way, suddenly, to sun: It is this way always, isn’t it? The Light, knifing through the cold. The gray, giving way to glitter and spark: Here is what I know: Goodness comes slow, but it wins every time. 💛

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