Inspired poem and musings by Lana Ishka
In the end
Life itself
is the only guru
we can trust.
Just this moment
offering itself
again and again,
asking nothing
but our attention,
promising nothing
but the chance
to wake up
right here,
right now,
to who we
already are.
The seat of my Soul
I’ve spent a lot of time looking for answers—seeking the next sign, the next teaching, the next ceremony, the next thread to follow. And I’ve had some truly beautiful guides along the way. I’m grateful for each of them.
But the longer I walk this path, the more I realize that the guidance I can trust most doesn’t come from outside of me.
It comes from a higher intelligence—something vast, deeply loving, and intimately near. And I’ve found that I can access it when my heart is soft and my mind is open. That sounds simple, but in practice, it takes real courage. Because it means slowing down. It means getting quiet. It means letting go of the need to have everything mapped out or validated.
It means trusting that what I need will arise in the stillness—and that if I’m truly listening, the next step will always reveal itself.
This kind of guidance doesn’t come from the mind. It doesn’t come from emotional highs or lows. It comes from the steady, quiet presence of my own being. That’s where I feel most at home. That’s where I hear what’s real. That’s the seat of my soul.
Together We Rise
Something even more powerful happens when we live from this place—not just individually, but collectively.
When a group of people all choose to show up from that deep inner space—each one anchored in their own being, trusting their own inner yes—something begins to move through the field we share. A higher intelligence flows between us. It’s not just about individual clarity anymore; it becomes a kind of shared knowing, a collective coherence. Like something greater than us is weaving through us all.
It reminds me that we’re not waking up in isolation.
We’re part of a great emergence.
And it’s already unfolding.
The question is: are we willing to slow down enough to feel it?
To live from it?
To trust it?
I’m here for that. And I know I’m not the only one.