Discounts available!

Starting today, MAY 15th, there is a 20% discount on all templates remaining in the TEMPLATES FROM THE GARDEN SERIES. To see which ones are available and to view snippet images, check out the WHAT’S NEW page by clicking here WHAT’S NEW  If any one of them speaks to your heart and you feel you are meant to be a Keeper, do not hesitate to make contact. Namaste, and thank you.

Miracles…

                               by: Aliana Alani ©2016

 Today I pray for miracles.Digital Camera

Miracles for this world, for you, and me. Miracles that can turn the tide of being, here and now.

Whether for good health or well-being, for money midst dire or stressful situations, or for a caring voice during the passing of what has been or who has been with you. I pray for miracles.

I pray for the miracle of a shining light – the light that comes from that deep space within, the Eternal flame of who we truly are. I pray for this light to miraculously illuminate the path we now walk, no matter who we are or where we are, that we may see beyond the confusion and the folly that spins like a tempest upon the seas of our world, and find the courage to walk a path of love and understanding instead.

I pray for the miracle of love – divine and everlasting – to attend us all today; to unblock a frightened heart, heal a wounded soul, and mend a fractured mind.

I pray for miracles – that we may have eyes to see and ears to hear – that, miraculously, we might turn and realize what many who seldom walk this world have always known – that here sits a bit of heaven – a garden of love – a world of plenty and of light. I pray for the miracle of that knowing, and the audacity to live its truth.

I pray for miracles. I pray for love.

 

lotus flower

 

 

 

Tiny Windows … Tiny Templates

Each Tiny Window touches into an aspect and vibration of The Garden of Love, providing a small portal into a world of harmony & peace through the power of sacred geometry.

 

Done in various small sizes, and on the same high-quality watercolour paper as the large templates, they are an opportunity to celebrate The Garden of Love, albeit in a petite way, whether you choose to buy one as artwork, as a gift for another, or as a means of dipping into a world you wish to encourage into being for yourself or your family. Each one is an original (not a print).

TINY WINDOWS are available from OCTOBER 21st to DECEMBER 26th, 2016.

Prices will range between $35-$65 (+shipping/packaging), and are in Canadian funds.

I’ll be opening these TINY WINDOWS gradually over the available purchase time. There probably won’t be a lot of them, so if you’ve ever wanted some of this work or have wanted to buy one for a friend, this is the perfect opportunity. They’re small, they’re beautiful, they’re powerful, and they are so affordable. Plus they help you tap into The Garden of Love. What could be better than that?

Email me if you want one – aliana@22shangrila.com. When you do, I’ll tell you what’s currently available and the prices. You can choose which one most resonates with you. And don’t forget – mark TINY WINDOWS in the subject section!

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Remember

Love is the answer.

Always has been.        Always will be.

 

It’s our Day of Love

single-red-rose-3As many of you know, each Sunday I call on all of us to help MAKE SUNDAY A DAY OF LOVE. I’ve been doing this for a few weeks. During such times, we express and send love into our world, close friends or not. We share kindness and compassion where we can. We celebrate the day with a prayer that such  love might go on forever.

This week, the Love is for YOU.

No matter where you are, YOU matter. No matter what you look like, how you dress (or don’t), how you share the magic of your days, YOU matter.

It is often easier to give love to others. And yet without drinking from the Well of Love ourselves, how can we truly share that love with the world?

It is time to nourish our own inner gardens. Celebrate our inner beauty. Honor our inner wisdom and knowing. And allow ourselves, each and every one of us, to blossom into the magnificent gardens of love we were always meant to be.

After all – to be a tad poetic – YOU are the breeze that wafts within tall trees, the golden leaves that fall in Autumn, the slender buds that bloom in Spring. YOU are the rippling waters of a gentle pond and the crashing waves midst a stormy sea. YOU are today and tomorrow NOW. YOU are the reflections of those around you, the reflection of yourself in life’s slender mirror. YOU are an endless garden, an open heart, a robin’s song. YOU are all these things and so much more.

LOVE YOU. Why? Because YOU matter.

So go ahead, make today, SUNDAY, the day YOU LOVE YOU.

Digital Camera

 

ARE YOU NOT TIRED?

white rose

            ©Aliana Alani 2015     

Unlike many of my writings here, this is more Dylan Thomas than Rumi – but there are things that must be said, words that must be spoken.  

  

I

Are you not tired of battle? I am.

This constant feeding on the life force of others
Till even young bones dry and crumble into dust
And winds lament their passing like banshee cries across the lands.
To what end? For what purpose?

Think you immortality lies within the reach of those
Who trample o’er the souls of others? If so, think again.
Or has this thirst turned so insatiable that friend and foe alike
Become but mere morsels for the next feed?

When is enough, enough?

It matters not what name you give this.
What righteous path you cast its fate along.
Light or dark, it is all the same.
Devoid of love, we are all nothing!

Can you not understand?

II

You plant your flag within the halls of Mount Olympus
Expecting adulation in return. To you, it is but one of many.
But you forget. You lack remembrance.
Therein, perhaps, lies your folly.

So let me help. Let me be blunt.

There are gods and angels who walk amongst the living
Cloaked in skins of a mortal kind. Some appear tattered,
Even wounded, for the journey has been long, nay even arduous.
Still they are present, perhaps, yes even especially, in those very halls
And they are not happy.
They wait, but not for long.

What will you do next, they wonder?
What foolish blunder? What further desecration –
Before you awake and realize?

III

Occasionally one will dust off those weary wings, flutter and fly.
Winds will change, and for a brief moment,
Love will enter the now toxic air.

A sigh of hope is heard within the hearts of many.
But it does not last.
It cannot be sustained.
Not yet.

Ask me why. Oh. Please. Do.

IV

There is a fabric that holds this universe together.
An ancient warp and woof of life.
No cotton this. Not even silk or satin.
No, this is the stuff that hearts are made of,
That travels pathways of geometric harmonics
Lighting galaxies as it spews forth in all its splendour.

It is unstoppable, of course
Unavoidable, actually
Undeniable –
But still you try.

To usurp it is impossible,
A flight of fantasy on your part.
It belongs to all, permeates all, is all.
It is not yours to hoard or blunder –
But still, amazingly, you try.

Are you not tired yet?!

So here’s the irony, the paradox, the problem.
Put simply for you to understand –
What you do blocks the very field of energetic awareness
That sustains your, yes your, very own existence.

You have created a game that is a self-fulfilling prophecy
In which you are doomed to be no more.
You do not know this yet, so you continue,
Like unfed vultures, to merrily feast
Upon the dreams and hopes of others.

If it were just about you,
You would be left to your own devices.
But sadly, it is not so.

You think you can act with impunity
But, once again, you do not remember.
You lack vision, foresight. You do not see the larger picture.
You harm one. You harm all.

And so, ultimately, it cannot be allowed.

V

Understand this –

Unborn dreams are fragile things.
Like hopes, they reside in the realm of etheric mist.
Some say they are the prodding of angels
Whispered gently into an open heart.

What matters is this – to come into being,
They must be nourished, nurtured, loved.

Each spins a slender thread of woven gold
Linking it to the core of all. Invisible to the naked eye,
Unknown to many, they crisscross galaxies.
There are zillions of them.

To the enlightened among you
They are the geometries of existence.
To us, they are the song lines of the eternal heart.

So here’s the rub –

When you repeatedly force a people to its knees
Pushing spirits into the bog of existence
Until they can barely remember their own names
You poke holes in the chrysalis of their dreaming.
You weaken those very threads.
You damage the song lines.

Song lines are the royalty of life from which worlds are born.

If any should break, connected to your doing, you will be held responsible.
That, lest you forgot, is the hidden addendum to the codex of the contract
You eagerly signed when you initiated the Game you were so thirsty to play
(A game, I hasten to remind you, that was meant to enhance not devastate).
You, of all, should appreciate the irony of this.

So I ask again – Are you not tired of it yet?
WE ARE.

VI

There is, of course, a key to redemption – there is always a key.
But you will have to use it well and you will have to use it quickly
For you are running out of time (does this sound familiar?).
Let me offer a clue –

All things are born from the heart
And to the heart all things return

The key, like all keys before and after, has a name.
This key’s name happens to be Compassion.
Not your every day garden variety kind.
NO, only pure unadulterated unconditional open-hearted
Compassion will do now – for all and everything.

You have travelled far from the core of your heart’s awareness.
Will you get back to it in time? We do not know.
But we are obligated to remind you of the key’s existence
And hence give you an opportunity to try.

VII

One last thought –

This world is a precious place, sculpted with endless opportunities for love –
Beautiful, abundant, vast, and deliciously exquisite in its myriad of forms.
It has always been humanity’s mandate to flourish and prosper –
To excel in coming home to its true essence and to cherish all who
Reside in this unfolding garden of love. This mandate will not be denied.

So I will ask you one last time – Are you not tired of this Game?

For truly, I AM.

white rose