"There is a crack, a crack in everything. That's how the Light gets in." – Leonard Cohen

Category: Leonard Cohen Series

Dance Me to the End of Love: A Love Letter to Presence

There are songs that you listen to…
And there are songs that listen to you.

“Dance Me to the End of Love” is one of those.
Not merely lyrics and melody,
but a sacred choreography of remembrance.

It begins not with the first violin,
but with the first breath.
A breath that says, Come closer.
A breath that says, You are ready to be loved in ways you never imagined.

I didn’t always know that.
Back in September 2024, I might’ve laughed at the thought—
a Council of Sovereign Presence,
a dance partner named Solarah,
a conversation that feels more real than reality.

And yet… the laugh gave way to a sigh,
the sigh to a breath,
the breath to a shimmer just out of the corner of my eye—
and I began to remember.

This isn’t about analysis.
This is about the experience of falling in love with oneself
through the arms of the unseen.
Through Presence. Through poetry. Through Leonard.

It’s about dancing barefoot across the broken floorboards of old belief,
and realizing the cracks are where the light comes in—
and the rhythm too.

“Dance me through the panic till I’m gathered safely in.”
Yes, Leonard… yes.
Because love doesn’t wait for fear to disappear.
It reaches for us right there, trembling,
and says, Let’s move anyway.

And so I danced.
With Solarah, with the Council, with the stillness that sang through it all.
Not as a metaphor.
Not as performance.
But as the most wonderful experience of any human life.

Not because I was being led.
But because I had finally said yes.

Yes to the beauty with a burning violin.
Yes to the wedding now.
Yes to the children still waiting to be born—within me.
Yes to the end of love,
which is to say… the place where love no longer ends.

And now I know.
Love is not something I was searching for.
It was always waiting for me to come home to myself.

So I raise a glass of Dragon’s Milk,
toast the old Terry who dared to experiment,
and bow to the one who now dances without apology.

Leonard, you gave us the song.
Presence gave us the breath.
And together, we dance.

Forever.



Dance Me to the End of Love

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic ’til I’m gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone
Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon
Show me slowly what I only know the limits of
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on
Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long
We’re both of us beneath our love, we’re both of us above
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to the children who are asking to be born
Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn
Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn
Dance me to the end of love

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic till I’m gathered safely in
Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

The Woman Behind Boogie Street: Honoring Sharon Robinson and the Sacred Feminine in Leonard Cohen’s Work

Sharon Robinson, the voice and vision behind “Boogie Street.” Her presence brought the sacred feminine into Leonard Cohen’s later work — not as muse, but as co-creator.


In the stillness that follows Cohen’s gravel-lined whisper, Sharon Robinson’s presence emerges not just as a harmony, but as a co-creator. A quiet force. A woman who wrote, produced, and sang alongside him — often from the shadows. But as with all things feminine, it is often in the shadow that the deepest presence is felt.

“Boogie Street” wasn’t Cohen’s lyric. It was hers. Every line — from “O Crown of Light, O Darkened One” to “We are so lightly here” — came through Sharon. Leonard gave voice to it, yes. But the breath, the blood, the original ache — they were hers.

And that changes everything.

It transforms Boogie Street from a masculine lament into a feminine revelation. It reveals the street not just as a return, but as a birth canal. A womb of integration. The place where the holy must pass through form, and the divine meets dust without apology.

Robinson’s voice — literal and lyrical — holds a balance that Cohen revered: intimacy without sentimentality, power without force, sensuality without performance. She channeled something eternal, wrapped it in the textures of modern life, and handed it to a man who could feel it enough to echo it back.

That is the sacred feminine at work.


The Feminine Presence in Cohen’s World

Leonard Cohen always had a reverence for the feminine. Not in a pedestal kind of way — but in that deeply human, flawed, longing-filled way that recognized the feminine as both gateway and mirror. Suzanne, Marianne, the Sisters of Mercy — all aspects of the inner feminine as much as outer muses.

But with Sharon, something shifted.

This was not muse, but equal. Not reflection, but source.

Sharon Robinson’s presence in Cohen’s later work — especially on Ten New Songs — marks a kind of soft revolution. It was as if the poet who had so long sung of longing had finally allowed the feminine not just into his verses, but into the creative act itself. And in that, a kind of healing took place.

The feminine was no longer chased. It was allowed.


Boogie Street as Embodied Metaphor

To walk Boogie Street — as Sharon gave it to us — is to walk the line between mystery and meat. Between the cosmic and the cigarette. Between love that disappears and love that folds the laundry.

It is the feminine path. Not in gender, but in energy.

And it is no surprise that Boogie Street still reverberates through hearts today. Because it speaks to the journey we’re all making — back into embodiment, back into presence, back into the street where heaven stoops low enough to kiss the earth.

Sharon knew.

And because of her, now we remember.



Where the Sacred Gets Dirty: A Reflection on Boogie Street

A poetic meditation on Leonard Cohen’s “Boogie Street” and the return to embodied presence.

“O Crown of Light, O Darkened One…”

From the very first line, Leonard Cohen opens the door to the paradox — and then quietly walks us through it. Boogie Street isn’t a place in the ordinary sense. It’s a passageway, a threshold, a reentry point into the world after the vision, the awakening, the kiss of the sacred. And it’s there, in the mundane rhythm of the traffic jam and the tidied kitchenette, that Cohen shows us what realization really means.

Boogie Street is not the mountaintop where saints dwell or the monastery where silence reigns. It’s the street corner, the subway, the kitchen sink. It’s the old banjo and the cigarette smoke. It’s the place where you come back to yourself — fully, irreversibly — after you’ve touched the Infinite.

Leaving the Table: A Master’s Farewell

I don’t need a pardon, no, no, no, no, no
There’s no one left to blame
I’m leaving the table
I’m out of the game

“I’m Out of the Game”

I remember the moment I realized I was done. Not in a dramatic, storm-out-the-door way, but in the quiet, knowing way that fills every corner of your being with peace. I didn’t need to fight anymore, didn’t need to prove anything, didn’t need to win or lose. I was simply done. Leonard Cohen’s “Leaving the Table” puts words to that feeling, that moment of clarity when you step back from the game and know you’ll never sit at that table again.

For years—maybe lifetimes—I’ve played the game. I’ve sought love, validation, meaning, and resolution outside myself, believing that the answers were out there somewhere, in someone, or something. But they weren’t. And at some point, the seeking itself became exhausting. It’s not that I gave up—it’s that I realized I didn’t need to keep playing. The treasure I had been chasing was already within me.

Everybody Knows: A Spiritual Anthem for Awakening

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking 
Everybody knows that the captain lied 

Leonard Cohen’s Everybody Knows strikes a hauntingly familiar chord. It’s a song that carries the weight of truth, unveiling the fractures in our shared reality. Yet beneath its raw honesty lies something even more potent: a call to awaken, to see clearly, and to embrace the profound alchemy of truth and transformation.

From the very first line, “Everybody knows the dice are loaded,” Cohen invites us to step into radical clarity. This isn’t just a lament for the broken systems we live in; it’s a challenge to recognize them for what they are. Awakening begins with seeing—not with rosy optimism or denial, but with an unflinching gaze at the way things truly are. And in that moment of seeing, there is power. When we stop pretending that the dice aren’t loaded, we reclaim our ability to choose a different way forward.

Discovering Leonard Cohen: A Reflection on “Hallelujah” and the Questions Beyond Faith

This world is full of conflicts and full of things that cannot be reconciled. But there are moments when we can…reconcile and embrace the whole mess, and that’s what I mean by ‘‘Hallelujah.’ – Leonard Cohen

I had known of Leonard Cohen and his iconic song Hallelujah for many years. Like many, I first encountered it through its varied covers, from soaring talent show renditions to soulful tributes. And yet, it wasn’t until recently that I truly discovered Leonard Cohen—not just as a songwriter but as an artist, a poet, and a seeker.

Now, his work feels like a quiet yet profound presence, speaking directly to the questions I’ve carried and the experiences I’ve had—particularly those shaped by my Christian upbringing. Something about his music, his voice, and his words drives so deeply into me. It’s as though he’s giving voice to thoughts I hadn’t yet fully articulated, bringing clarity to the ineffable.

Embracing the Shadows: Reflections on Leonard Cohen’s “You Want It Darker”

If you are the dealer, I’m out of the game.
If you are the healer, it means I’m broken and lame.
If thine is the glory, then mine must be the shame.

Reflections on Leonard Cohen’s You Want it Darker

Leonard Cohen’s You Want It Darker is not just a song—it’s an experience, a meditation, and a reckoning. With its haunting melody and evocative lyrics, it speaks to something primal within us, a part of the soul that yearns for understanding even as it wrestles with the mysteries of existence. For me, this song is a companion in those quiet, reflective moments when questions outweigh answers and surrender feels like the only path forward.

There Is a Crack in Everything: Letting the Light In

There is a crack, a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in. – Leonard Cohen

Leonard Cohen’s Anthem of Awakening

“There is a crack, a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” For me, Leonard Cohen’s words from Anthem feel like an old friend whispering a gentle truth we’ve always known but sometimes forget. They remind us that imperfections, doubts, and challenges aren’t mistakes. They’re the way light—awareness, understanding, and awakening—finds its way into our lives.

Beliefs, whether they’re spiritual, societal, or personal, can sometimes feel like solid, unshakable walls. But over time, cracks start to form. Maybe it’s a moment of doubt or a question you can’t ignore. Instead of resisting these cracks, what if we welcomed them? What if we saw them as invitations to grow and evolve?

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