Snow, beautiful snow,
Angels, footprints, sledging,
Walking on the moor,
Becky’s perfect ice house.
Scotland, jaw-dropping vistas,
Nature raw and exposed,
Unexpected happenings and
Departures, emotion and sanctuary.
Retreat to the mind,
A one of a kind,
Not for the hills after all,
Stay in the mix.
She slid into the water,
This is it,
Much laughter
And eventually we’re paddling along.
Back down south,
Opportunities, possibilities
Only to discover the false dawn,
More tears and surrendering to the mystery.
Walks in the woods,
On the trail of beau fizz,
Instead I looked to the stars
And found my heart stolen.
Sun, beach, sand and sea.
Moors, pony’s, heather and gorse.
Heaven on earth.
Music, moons and dancing til dawn.
Falling, falling, falling
Down the rabbit hole,
Only to look behind,
To see the end of time.
Over land and under sea,
To foreign lands,
Many people, too many
Memories, the best yet.
Home, home of sorts,
Questions and stalling,
Eventually to a halt,
The biggest surprise of them all.
I hear the sound of the drum
And I am gone
On another adventure,
Above the trees to the mountains.
Gone from this physical world,
Nothing will be the same again,
I’m sorrier than words can say,
The greatest love of them all.
Tears roll like never before,
And yet I discovered
You’re as close
As it takes to close my eyes.
Owl is my friend,
You are too,
Forever true,
My little boo.
This way and that way,
Trying to find my way,
My words,
Drowning in others.
Too many voices,
Too many choices,
I am on the road
Again no knowing where I’ll go.
Find my way to you again,
Trying to keep true to me,
Moving this way and that,
Looking for me.
Pushing hard to the horizon,
Diving to the depths,
Not turning away,
Holding on to the rails.
Hard to hear,
Hurts to watch,
Heart can’t feel no more,
It's too much!
Catch my breath,
Time to reflect,
Many blessings, new friends,
Experiences beyond compare.
Thank you everyone
And everything
I dare not blink
Don’t want to miss a thing.
Thursday 30 December 2010
Tuesday 14 December 2010
Is it ever too late?
An outsider
Bursting in a cosy room
With familiar faces
Stories have grown
Been fed in my absence
And now I ask, can I
Knit myself back in?
Is it ever too late?
Bursting in a cosy room
With familiar faces
Stories have grown
Been fed in my absence
And now I ask, can I
Knit myself back in?
Is it ever too late?
Early Morning on Dartmoor
A new day
Stamped in gold
By the morning sun
Orange burnt on the hillside
Moss Green covered stones
Lining the road, where
Startled white rotund sheep
Scuttle and skip
Grey rocks jut above the
Skyline like dinosaur bones
And the round brown hoof
Prints of a passing pony
Lead off into the distant
Mist
Stamped in gold
By the morning sun
Orange burnt on the hillside
Moss Green covered stones
Lining the road, where
Startled white rotund sheep
Scuttle and skip
Grey rocks jut above the
Skyline like dinosaur bones
And the round brown hoof
Prints of a passing pony
Lead off into the distant
Mist
The Emptiness of Nothing
The emptiness of nothing
Is as it is
Could it be any other way?
Look closer,
Closer again
The emptiness of nothing
Is what you perceive
I see mountains, trees
And lakes covered in snow
Geese flying above
A fox glancing an eye
On high
The emptiness of nothing
Is as it is
What do you see?
Is as it is
Could it be any other way?
Look closer,
Closer again
The emptiness of nothing
Is what you perceive
I see mountains, trees
And lakes covered in snow
Geese flying above
A fox glancing an eye
On high
The emptiness of nothing
Is as it is
What do you see?
Tuesday 30 November 2010
Sunday 21 November 2010
The Owl and the Moon
Said the owl to the moon,
what is your tune?
on this fair night in
deepest November,
the sight of your silvery glow,
is enough to want to know
answers to questions
that hang in the air
like yesterday's children,
all bright and expectant!
what is your tune?
on this fair night in
deepest November,
the sight of your silvery glow,
is enough to want to know
answers to questions
that hang in the air
like yesterday's children,
all bright and expectant!
Thursday 18 November 2010
Saturday 30 October 2010
Friday eve 29th October 2010...
It has been a wild and windy evening, the autumnal leaves sashaying and swirling from one place to the next, making unique patterns lasting moments, nothing seemed to settle for long. As I wandered up the hill navigating my own path through the twilight I collected leaves from the woodland floor. Before reaching the place I had chosen I'd ducked under branches and lost my footing into the mud. She would be padding about following scents here and there, occasionally lifting her head to listen. I set my bag to one side and began the process of making a small nature alter on a stone next to the stream.
I called in the spirits and ancestors from the four corners and welcomed father sky and mother earth to our ceremony this night. By now the twilight had deepened into darkness. Leaves were cascading down from the surrounding trees, some gently glancing my shoulders. I nestled the container holding Becky's ashes into the mossy rocks of the dryer raised section of the stream secluded under the wooden bridge. She would be sat nearby, scanning the horizon, in no hurry.
By the light of a torch I read aloud as best I could a beautiful Mary Oliver poem that sums up everything I could possibly say in words from my heart.
Her Grave*
She would come back, dripping thick water, from the green bog.
She would fall at my feet, she would draw the black skin
from her gums, in a hideous and wonderful smile -
and I would rub my hands over her pricked ears and
her cunning elbow,
and I would hug the barrel of her body, amazed at the unassuming
perfect arch of her neck.
~
It took one to carry her ashes into the woods.
I did not think of music,
anyway, the wind rustling
the leaves echoed my every step.
~
Her wolfish, invitational, half-pounce.
Her great and lordly satisfaction at having chased something.
My great and lordly satisfaction at her splash
of happiness as she barged
through the pitch pines swiping my face with her
wild, slightly mossy tongue.
~
Does the hummingbird think he himself invented his crimson throat?
He is wiser than that I think.
A dog lives fifteen years, if you're lucky.
Do the cranes crying out in the high clouds
think it is all their own music?
A dog comes to you and lives with you in your house, but you
do not therefore own her, as you do not own the rain, or the
trees, or the laws which pertain to them.
Does the bear wandering in the autumn up the side of the hill
think all by herself she has imagined the refuge and the refreshment
of her long slumber?
A dog can never tell you what she knows from the
smells of the world, but you know, watching her, that you
know almost nothing.
Does the water snake with his backbone of diamonds think
the black tunnel on the bank of the pond is a palace
of his own making?
~
She roved ahead of me through the fields, yet would come back, or
wait for me, or be somewhere.
Now she is scattered in the stream and round the trees.
Nor will I argue it, or pray for anything but modesty, and
not to be angry.
Through the trees there is the sound of the winds, palavering.
The smell of the pines needles, what is it but a taste
of the infallible energies?
How strong was her dark body!
How apt is her resting place.
~
Finally,
the slick mountains of love break
over us.
I moved to scatter Becky's ashes in the flowing waters of the stream, in the breath of the winds and in a circle around the trees. I sat a while, eyes closed, in complete gratitude and true amazement of our ten years in physical form together. What a blessed adventure. The best teacher ever, bar none! Long may it continue. We thanked the ancestors and spirits who came this night, father sky and mother earth. Not without getting a little directionally dyslexic on the way, still so much to learn and yet even now there is always a smile to be had. Last of all we left a small token for the woodland and all its creatures, an apple was placed in the centre of the nature alter. We then made our way through the darkness, slowly picking out a pathway back down the hill.
I'm reminded it is Samhain. In a couple of days, the eve of all hallows ... a magical time for the Celts who acknowledge it is the ending and beginning of their yearly cycle. Now we affirm rebirth in the midst of death and darkness. The dark is not to be feared, it is important to take time to rest, to journey, dream, explore the mysteries, communicate with our ancestors, seek our inner wisdom, incubate the seeds of our ideas and future potentials. Out of the darkness comes renewal and rebirth. This cycle means their are always new opportunities to start again. Embrace the light and the dark, accept they are both a much needed part of what makes us whole.#
* Apologies to Mary Oliver afficionados for the few words that have been changed to fit the occasion.
# From Glennie Kindred, The Earth Cycles of Celebration.
I called in the spirits and ancestors from the four corners and welcomed father sky and mother earth to our ceremony this night. By now the twilight had deepened into darkness. Leaves were cascading down from the surrounding trees, some gently glancing my shoulders. I nestled the container holding Becky's ashes into the mossy rocks of the dryer raised section of the stream secluded under the wooden bridge. She would be sat nearby, scanning the horizon, in no hurry.
By the light of a torch I read aloud as best I could a beautiful Mary Oliver poem that sums up everything I could possibly say in words from my heart.
Her Grave*
She would come back, dripping thick water, from the green bog.
She would fall at my feet, she would draw the black skin
from her gums, in a hideous and wonderful smile -
and I would rub my hands over her pricked ears and
her cunning elbow,
and I would hug the barrel of her body, amazed at the unassuming
perfect arch of her neck.
~
It took one to carry her ashes into the woods.
I did not think of music,
anyway, the wind rustling
the leaves echoed my every step.
~
Her wolfish, invitational, half-pounce.
Her great and lordly satisfaction at having chased something.
My great and lordly satisfaction at her splash
of happiness as she barged
through the pitch pines swiping my face with her
wild, slightly mossy tongue.
~
Does the hummingbird think he himself invented his crimson throat?
He is wiser than that I think.
A dog lives fifteen years, if you're lucky.
Do the cranes crying out in the high clouds
think it is all their own music?
A dog comes to you and lives with you in your house, but you
do not therefore own her, as you do not own the rain, or the
trees, or the laws which pertain to them.
Does the bear wandering in the autumn up the side of the hill
think all by herself she has imagined the refuge and the refreshment
of her long slumber?
A dog can never tell you what she knows from the
smells of the world, but you know, watching her, that you
know almost nothing.
Does the water snake with his backbone of diamonds think
the black tunnel on the bank of the pond is a palace
of his own making?
~
She roved ahead of me through the fields, yet would come back, or
wait for me, or be somewhere.
Now she is scattered in the stream and round the trees.
Nor will I argue it, or pray for anything but modesty, and
not to be angry.
Through the trees there is the sound of the winds, palavering.
The smell of the pines needles, what is it but a taste
of the infallible energies?
How strong was her dark body!
How apt is her resting place.
~
Finally,
the slick mountains of love break
over us.
I moved to scatter Becky's ashes in the flowing waters of the stream, in the breath of the winds and in a circle around the trees. I sat a while, eyes closed, in complete gratitude and true amazement of our ten years in physical form together. What a blessed adventure. The best teacher ever, bar none! Long may it continue. We thanked the ancestors and spirits who came this night, father sky and mother earth. Not without getting a little directionally dyslexic on the way, still so much to learn and yet even now there is always a smile to be had. Last of all we left a small token for the woodland and all its creatures, an apple was placed in the centre of the nature alter. We then made our way through the darkness, slowly picking out a pathway back down the hill.
I'm reminded it is Samhain. In a couple of days, the eve of all hallows ... a magical time for the Celts who acknowledge it is the ending and beginning of their yearly cycle. Now we affirm rebirth in the midst of death and darkness. The dark is not to be feared, it is important to take time to rest, to journey, dream, explore the mysteries, communicate with our ancestors, seek our inner wisdom, incubate the seeds of our ideas and future potentials. Out of the darkness comes renewal and rebirth. This cycle means their are always new opportunities to start again. Embrace the light and the dark, accept they are both a much needed part of what makes us whole.#
* Apologies to Mary Oliver afficionados for the few words that have been changed to fit the occasion.
# From Glennie Kindred, The Earth Cycles of Celebration.
Friday 24 September 2010
Ethical Ambition and Courageous Leadership
Richard Olivier is a highly skilled exponent of mythodrama. He uses this process as a means of exploring and understanding some of the most pressing themes and issues of our times. He writes, "using the adventure with Shakespeare’s Macbeth it is possible to live through this myth to learn for ourselves behaviours that make or break individuals and groups. Macbeth’s descent from fearless warrior to ruthless tyrant invites us to identify excessive and dangerous behaviours – both in ourselves and others. Prince Malcolm’s journey from runaway prince to steward king reveals the path to ethical leadership. Malcolm shows that we too can become generative leaders, creating meaning for ourselves and hope for our collective future.
I believe that a fundamentally important issue for all of us alive at this time is to discover our unique, appropriate level of ambition. We certainly need to figure out how to better manage the over-ambitious natures of the selfish few who get their kicks from power, prestige, obscene wealth and fame - but how are we going to ramp up the ambitions of the unselfish many who get kicked by power, outshone by prestige, outmaneuvered by wealth and outvoted by those in search of their 15 minutes? Surely we too need our version of worthy goals, ambitious targets, as yet unrealised dreams - and we need an ethical centre from which to operate, an internal "great bond" that keeps us pale not only in the face of obvious wrongdoing but also in the face of withdrawal and fearful submission. For all too many of the "good people" in the modern world it is not a case of too much, but too little too late. The great brains of the Oxford University James Martin 21st Century School contend that, given current trends of industrial waste, population growth and biological warfare potential, there is a high percentage probability that the human race will not survive the century we are living in. If we are to confound their predictions surely we must find a way to encourage apparently ordinary men and women to step up, to raise heads above the parapet, to find the niche, however seemingly narrow, where courage is called for and appropriate ambition required.
Imagining the future can make it real.
To attempt this, we need to expand our moral imaginations; the human race is capable of so much, has so much latent evolutionary potential to be stewards of the planet that sustains us, but so often we treat it as an object, something to be owned, mined and undermined, flown over until a volcano opens its mouth to decide otherwise. Great myths and inspiring stories can inform this expansion of our moral imagination, imagining the future can make it real ... The imagined can make it real, by stretching our own image of ourselves we can make it more likely to happen in reality.
So where is your ethical ambition, now? Is it well tended and watered? Is it starving for attention? What exactly are you doing with the garden that was entrusted to you? As poet David Whyte wisely asks "What shape waits in the seed of you to grow and spread its branches against a future sky?""
For more on ethical ambition and courageous leadership you can read the entire essay by Richard Olivier at http://www.findhorn.org/onlinecommunity/news/2010/05/the_myth_of_macbeth.php
I believe that a fundamentally important issue for all of us alive at this time is to discover our unique, appropriate level of ambition. We certainly need to figure out how to better manage the over-ambitious natures of the selfish few who get their kicks from power, prestige, obscene wealth and fame - but how are we going to ramp up the ambitions of the unselfish many who get kicked by power, outshone by prestige, outmaneuvered by wealth and outvoted by those in search of their 15 minutes? Surely we too need our version of worthy goals, ambitious targets, as yet unrealised dreams - and we need an ethical centre from which to operate, an internal "great bond" that keeps us pale not only in the face of obvious wrongdoing but also in the face of withdrawal and fearful submission. For all too many of the "good people" in the modern world it is not a case of too much, but too little too late. The great brains of the Oxford University James Martin 21st Century School contend that, given current trends of industrial waste, population growth and biological warfare potential, there is a high percentage probability that the human race will not survive the century we are living in. If we are to confound their predictions surely we must find a way to encourage apparently ordinary men and women to step up, to raise heads above the parapet, to find the niche, however seemingly narrow, where courage is called for and appropriate ambition required.
Imagining the future can make it real.
To attempt this, we need to expand our moral imaginations; the human race is capable of so much, has so much latent evolutionary potential to be stewards of the planet that sustains us, but so often we treat it as an object, something to be owned, mined and undermined, flown over until a volcano opens its mouth to decide otherwise. Great myths and inspiring stories can inform this expansion of our moral imagination, imagining the future can make it real ... The imagined can make it real, by stretching our own image of ourselves we can make it more likely to happen in reality.
So where is your ethical ambition, now? Is it well tended and watered? Is it starving for attention? What exactly are you doing with the garden that was entrusted to you? As poet David Whyte wisely asks "What shape waits in the seed of you to grow and spread its branches against a future sky?""
For more on ethical ambition and courageous leadership you can read the entire essay by Richard Olivier at http://www.findhorn.org/onlinecommunity/news/2010/05/the_myth_of_macbeth.php
Monday 20 September 2010
Friday 17 September 2010
Taliesin
There is a saying in Irish Gaelic, which when translated says, 'All things are connected by a thread of poetry'. The lifeforce or Dana, as they call it in Gaelic, is poetry. Writing poetry is a form of shape-shifting. Celts as poets understand each other. They may not appear to speak clearly or literally. In the way of Taliesin, Celts speak in riddles, in the language of the birds and of animals. We are reminded of Black Elk when he said, 'all things are alive and they want to communicate'. And as Keat's suggests 'we're here to make our soul.' And so it is the poet who knows how to capture the language and images of the lifeforce in all things. We learn to live with mystery and not get hung up on fact or reason.
She pointed up
At the night sky.
Can you see them,
Flying?
No, I replied.
You do believe me?, she asked.
Yes, I said.
And I did believe her
(I still couldn't see them).
A poet is a person who has visions. Who sees things that other people can't see. Some resist the idea that the poet is a mystic or visionary. What Taliesin did is identify with nature, by opening up to something that was always there and to the realisation that we are already connected to everything. The Celtic soul is not a soul trapped in a human body. The soul is free, it can wander, it can shape-shift. As Hildegard of Bingen said, 'just as the heart is hidden in the body, the body is hidden in the soul'. The Great Mother of life wants to enrich our souls. And the power of the soul reaches to the end of the earth ... in this way the earth is still reaching out towards its own creation. We're here to take the greatest stride our souls can take, which is to shape-shift, to realise the oneness of all things. We appear to be separate in order to make it through this physical world. Ego boundaries protect the body, but this only represents 10% of the soul, the other 90% of the soul is out there being a hawk, an oak tree, a raindrop. The goal of the 10% ego identified part of our souls is to realise it is one with all things, to become integrated with the other 90% of the soul. To become WHOLE.
"Sitting by a tree, near to a stone and next to a stream it was difficult to separate the three. They all called at once. I placed my attention on the stream and I imagined what is the stream? Is it the container, marked by the stream-bed and the banks. These connect to the soil, which connects to the rock and the tree and beyond. Is it the content, the continuous flowing fluidity of water, never still, always moving. The stream seems to have no boundaries; it is everything. I then realise I can fly about in something indescribable and to create awareness of a tree or rock. With the rock I could feel its ancientness, its age and I was aware it could seem dense and solid but it didn't need to be. I could pass through the rock and it could pass through me."
My home is my sanctuary.
It is my place of safety.
Where I belong.
Take this away and I can
Feel lost, I can struggle
To recognise myself. I
Lose my sense of stability.
In these times others,
Special people, have come
To remind me who
I am - Who see me.
Blink, I'm awake.
Not awakened.
Scared and alone.
Disconnected.
Heart racing, heat rising,
Mind swirling, fear driving
This ship bobbing
On turbulent seas,
Gripping tightly - I breathe!
Unseen and unseeable
To all but a few.
Tracks of fear
Circling around me
Tormenting my soul.
The warm winds gently
Tap on my shoulder,
I turn to follow
My path.
The Celts have a tradition of the great song. Your heart song is the idea of your thread, it's always there. Even though there are times when you might not see it, it's always there. Remember all things are connected by a thread of poetry.
Joy is speaking my truth.
Sorrow is not speaking up loud enough, saying NO and meaning it!
Peace is being heard.
"The song of peace comes from my heart. It is open and expansive, it lightens and relaxs everything around me like a beautiful lullaby. I can go into a place of intimate togetherness with love. I'm in a relaxed place of feeling, wanting to be there and wanting to share. I feel the tension and anxiety releasing from my back. In peace everything will be ok."
Be brave
Choose joy
Know sorrow
Find peace.
I can fly
Not as you might imagine
I forgot how for a long time
I can fly
It's time to lift myself
Up, be joyful
Ease back
Take flight
And spread my wings.
In the words of Taliesin from the Hostile Confederacy ...
I am Taliesin
And I defend the true lineage
Until the end of time.
I know when the spark of hardness works from the stones.
I know the end of the dawn.
I know what made enduring patience when the sky was raised.
I know why a hill resounds.
I know why the silver vault was knitted.
I know why the valley is radiant.
I know what name of two words will never be taken from the cauldron.
I know the four elements but there end is not known to me.
I have been dead, I have been alive.
I am Taliesin
And I defend the true lineage
Until the end of time.
# Acknowledgement to the shamanic teachings of Tom Cowan 2-5 September 2010 at Cae Mabon, North Wales.
Thursday 16 September 2010
What's it all about?
Now do come on people...
you all know that I'm a gentle subtle soul
who likes nothing more than tea, biscuits, slippers
and a bit of yoghurt weaving to send me to sleep.
But sometimes I have to let the bulldozer out.
I hear the diatribe of complaint about current times
and those to come, but come on....
What do you think you are really doing down here?
Do you remember why you volunteered to come here in the first place?
You are all specialists in your own field
who through the necessity and trauma of birth
have forgotten why you're here.
This is the most compressed time of human history,
we are on the point of a consciousness breakthrough
never seen before but imagined,
and we have the privilege of seeing the revelation.
And compared to the gargantuan developments of recent months,
the coming few months are a piece of cake -
it's just that they'll be typified by metaphorical actions
involving lasers and scalpels as opposed to the lump hammers
and cudgels of recent months.
It's time to start getting specific.
Never forget - you were born for this, this is why you're here.
And as the genetic time bombs encoded in our DNA begin to explode,
so memory and purpose return.
We are here to facilitate an acceleration and transmutation
of global consciousness and awareness,
nothing more and nothing less.
So you can either act, or react.
.... Steve Judd ....
you all know that I'm a gentle subtle soul
who likes nothing more than tea, biscuits, slippers
and a bit of yoghurt weaving to send me to sleep.
But sometimes I have to let the bulldozer out.
I hear the diatribe of complaint about current times
and those to come, but come on....
What do you think you are really doing down here?
Do you remember why you volunteered to come here in the first place?
You are all specialists in your own field
who through the necessity and trauma of birth
have forgotten why you're here.
This is the most compressed time of human history,
we are on the point of a consciousness breakthrough
never seen before but imagined,
and we have the privilege of seeing the revelation.
And compared to the gargantuan developments of recent months,
the coming few months are a piece of cake -
it's just that they'll be typified by metaphorical actions
involving lasers and scalpels as opposed to the lump hammers
and cudgels of recent months.
It's time to start getting specific.
Never forget - you were born for this, this is why you're here.
And as the genetic time bombs encoded in our DNA begin to explode,
so memory and purpose return.
We are here to facilitate an acceleration and transmutation
of global consciousness and awareness,
nothing more and nothing less.
So you can either act, or react.
.... Steve Judd ....
Wednesday 1 September 2010
Touched by an Angel
We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.
Love arrives
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.
We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.
- Maya Angelou -
Monday 23 August 2010
Thursday 19 August 2010
Are you breathing just a little
Are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?*
Who are you kidding? Not me!
You, breathe a little, no way.
There is not one fibre of your being
that does not live life to the fullest.
You reach out everyday with hope, faith and love.
I’ve seen it for myself.
Don’t go trying to convince me or yourself
That you do anything other than try your best.
Remember your best is more than enough.
There are times when life may appear to be
harsh, unrelenting, confusing and uncertain.
Be gentler, more compassionate with yourself.
Nurture and be nurtured on your journey.
It may well feel like a roller-coaster ride.
We are all on it waving our hands in the air,
Feeling the elements rushing by,
Catching the sideways glances of those around,
Wondering what’s happening over there?
Knowing there is no over there.
It’s all here.
It's all now.
Keep it simple, place your attention on where you
want to be, look up and step into the moment,
Your moment and live it the only way you know how.
Be the happiest you can be and watch the waves of
your smile expand into the never-ending spaciousness
of forever.
* The opening question is a line taken from the poem 'Have you ever tried to enter the long black branches?' by Mary Oliver.
Who are you kidding? Not me!
You, breathe a little, no way.
There is not one fibre of your being
that does not live life to the fullest.
You reach out everyday with hope, faith and love.
I’ve seen it for myself.
Don’t go trying to convince me or yourself
That you do anything other than try your best.
Remember your best is more than enough.
There are times when life may appear to be
harsh, unrelenting, confusing and uncertain.
Be gentler, more compassionate with yourself.
Nurture and be nurtured on your journey.
It may well feel like a roller-coaster ride.
We are all on it waving our hands in the air,
Feeling the elements rushing by,
Catching the sideways glances of those around,
Wondering what’s happening over there?
Knowing there is no over there.
It’s all here.
It's all now.
Keep it simple, place your attention on where you
want to be, look up and step into the moment,
Your moment and live it the only way you know how.
Be the happiest you can be and watch the waves of
your smile expand into the never-ending spaciousness
of forever.
* The opening question is a line taken from the poem 'Have you ever tried to enter the long black branches?' by Mary Oliver.
Tuesday 17 August 2010
What is woman's place ... ?
Paul Cezanne, Les Grandes Baigneuses (Bathers) National Gallery, London.
In the introduction to the book 'The Heroine's Journey' by Maureen Murdock, she asks the question: "What is woman's place at this stage of our cultural development?" and this is her response, "I feel strongly that it is to heal the split that tells us that our knowings, wishes, and desires are not as important nor as valid as those of the dominant male culture. Our task is to heal the internal split that tells us to override the feelings, intuition, and dream images that inform us of the truth of life. We must have the courage to live with paradox, the strength to hold the tension of not knowing the answers, and the willingness to listen to our inner wisdom and the wisdom of the planet, which begs for change.
The heroine must become a spiritual warrior. This demands she learn the delicate art of balance and have the patience for the slow, subtle integration of the feminine and the masculine aspects of herself. She first hungers to lose her feminine self and to merge with the masculine, and once she has done this, she begins to realise that this is neither the answer nor the end. She must not discard nor give up what she has learned throughout her heroic quest, but learn to view her hard-earned skills and success not so much as the goal but as one part of the entire journey. She will then begin to use these skills to work toward the larger quest of bringing people together, rather than for her own individual gain. This is the sacred marriage of the feminine and the masculine - when a woman can truly serve not only the needs of others but can value and be responsive to her own needs as well. This focus on integration and the resulting awareness of interdependence is necessary for each one of us at this time, as we work together to preserve the balance of life on earth."
Murdock, M (1990) The Heroine's Journey, Shambhala, London, pp.11-12.
Friday 13 August 2010
An ancient way of knowing
The final paragraph of Robert Wolff's thought provoking book 'Original Wisdom' gives me hope ... "All who are in touch with the natural world can sense energies, emotions, and intentions of people and animals. If we listen, we can know - all we need to do is give up being in charge. Knowing inside is not something unusual; it is how we are. All humans can have that connection with All-That-Is. The connection is within us." (p.197)
Thursday 12 August 2010
Friday 6 August 2010
Steve Judd I like the way you roll ...
In today's blog entry by the UK astrologer Steve Judd he says this about the impending Grand Cross that has been so much talked about... "In less than twenty four hours, Venus moves into Libra, the Moon moves into Cancer and the much heralded Grand Cross will be upon us. Despite being a long term proponent of these times, I feel delightfully ambivalent and surprisingly clear. Because of this, my shields are coming down ... on the eve of the Grand Cross, I pronounce thus: ''Oi!!! You Lot!!! Will you stop Looking for someone else to Blame! No Gods, no Leaders, No Gurus, No Masters. On Behalf of the Assembled Hosts of Discordia, we command the following: That from this moment on, your only real purpose in life is to be as happy as you can, at all times and in all circumstances, and to live in the moment to the fullest of your experience. Now get on with it.'" If you would like to read more click on http://www.stevejudd.com/
Tuesday 3 August 2010
U R the E in my E=MC²
U R the sunshine that starts my everyday
U R the one that says, 'Lets go out and PLAY'
U R the most beautiful creature I ever did meet
U R the one that makes my heart skip a beat
U R a glistening rainbow that contains no grey
U R the Omega3 that makes my ADHD go away
U R a kaleidoscope of wonderful delights
U R the one I want to cuddle up 2 at night
A love poem found this morning pinned to a tree,
by Orlando 4 Rosalind.
U R the one that says, 'Lets go out and PLAY'
U R the most beautiful creature I ever did meet
U R the one that makes my heart skip a beat
U R a glistening rainbow that contains no grey
U R the Omega3 that makes my ADHD go away
U R a kaleidoscope of wonderful delights
U R the one I want to cuddle up 2 at night
A love poem found this morning pinned to a tree,
by Orlando 4 Rosalind.
Monday 2 August 2010
Holding Hands
I'm on a David Whyte poetry fest this summer. Every which way I turn his poems find me. Today it was during a workshop on the feminine in leadership exploring the journey of Rosalind in Shakespeare's play 'As You Like It'. We were in Act One considering which of 4 archetypes do our affections need to wrestle with; the divine, the self, the other or our work - we were read the poem Truelove, this is how it goes,
Truelove
There is a faith in loving fiercely
the one who is rightfully yours,
especially if you have
waited years and especially
if part of you never believed
you could deserve this
loved and beckoning hand
held out to you this way.
I am thinking of faith now
and the testaments of loneliness
and what we feel we are
worthy of in this world.
Years ago in the Hebrides
I remember an old man
who walked every morning
on the grey stones
to the shore of the baying seals,
who would press his hat
to his chest in the blustering
salt wind and say his prayer
to the turbulent Jesus
hidden in the water,
and I think of the story
of the storm and everyone
waking and seeing
the distant
yet familiar figure
far across the water
calling to them,
and how we are all
preparing for that
abrupt waking,
and that calling,
and that moment
we have to say yes,
except it will
not come so grandly,
so Biblically,
but more subtly
and intimately in the face
of the one you know
you have to love,
so that when we finally
step out of the boat
toward them, we find
everything holds
us, and confirms
our courage, and if you wanted
to drown you could,
but you don’t
because finally
after all the struggle
and all the years,
you don’t want to any more,
you’ve simply had enough
of drowning
and you want to live and you
want to love and you will
walk across any territory
and any darkness,
however fluid and however
dangerous, to take the
one hand you know
belongs in yours.
- David Whyte -
Published in his book called 'House of Belonging'
Saturday 31 July 2010
Beautiful Paintings
A week ago while wandering through the tube system of London I saw a poster with this painting.
Don't Be Too Serious by Elizabeth McDonald
Today while in London meeting friends it was suggested we visit the National Portrait gallery and there to my surprise I came across the original. In real life it was even more striking. I still think he looks somewhat like Justin Timberlake, or an early Elvis Costello maybe.
Within the exhibition, the Portrait Awards for 2010, were many breath-taking, jaw-droppingly stunning paintings, including this one called Free Paul by David Beel.
A mesmerising, not to mention inspiring exhibition!
Don't Be Too Serious by Elizabeth McDonald
Today while in London meeting friends it was suggested we visit the National Portrait gallery and there to my surprise I came across the original. In real life it was even more striking. I still think he looks somewhat like Justin Timberlake, or an early Elvis Costello maybe.
Within the exhibition, the Portrait Awards for 2010, were many breath-taking, jaw-droppingly stunning paintings, including this one called Free Paul by David Beel.
A mesmerising, not to mention inspiring exhibition!
Sunday 25 July 2010
Hope, Faith and Love
Nothing that is worth doing can be achieved in our lifetime; therefore we must be saved by hope.
Nothing which is true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history; therefore we must be saved by faith.
Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore we must be saved by love.
- Reinhold Niebuhr -
Quote found at the beginning of the book, 'How the Irish Saved Civilization', by Thomas Cahill.
Nothing which is true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history; therefore we must be saved by faith.
Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore we must be saved by love.
- Reinhold Niebuhr -
Quote found at the beginning of the book, 'How the Irish Saved Civilization', by Thomas Cahill.
Thursday 22 July 2010
the changes are happening ...
... keeping the doors of my heart open,
is easy on the days when I'm in the flow,
when the peels of laughter and happiness
are all around, not so much on the unknown days,
when all there appears is confusion,
stepping forward to gaze into the abyss
and dare to see what's there,
then to keep the doors of my heart open
is terrifying, and yet that is what I'm
slowly learning to do each and every wobbly
step of the way, holding the love, keeping
my heart open, staying on my path,
being a witness, feeling the universal
wound we all share and being brave enough
to continue to participate,
to heal and be healed ... the ever possible
potential of transformation is here,
the changes are happening ...
is easy on the days when I'm in the flow,
when the peels of laughter and happiness
are all around, not so much on the unknown days,
when all there appears is confusion,
stepping forward to gaze into the abyss
and dare to see what's there,
then to keep the doors of my heart open
is terrifying, and yet that is what I'm
slowly learning to do each and every wobbly
step of the way, holding the love, keeping
my heart open, staying on my path,
being a witness, feeling the universal
wound we all share and being brave enough
to continue to participate,
to heal and be healed ... the ever possible
potential of transformation is here,
the changes are happening ...
Wednesday 21 July 2010
What to remember when waking
In that first
hardly noticed
moment
in which you wake,
coming back
to this life
from the other
more secret,
moveable
and frighteningly
honest
world
where everything
began,
there is a small
opening
into the day
which closes
the moment
you begin
your plans.
What you can plan
is to small
for you to live.
What you can live
wholeheartedly
will make plans
enough
for the vitality
hidden in your sleep.
To be human
is to become visible
while carrying
what is hidden
as a gift to others.
To remember
the other world
in this world
is to live in your
true inheritance.
You are not
a troubled guest
on this earth,
you are not
an accident
amidst other accidents
you were invited
from another and greater
night
than the one
from which
you have just emerged.
Now, looking through
the slanting light
of the morning
window toward
the mountain
presence
of everything
that can be,
what urgency
calls you to your
one love? What shape
waits in the seed
of you to grow
and spread
its branches
against a future sky?
It is waiting
in the fertile sea?
In the trees
beyond the house?
In the life
you can imagine
for yourself?
In the open
and lovely
white page
on the waiting desk?
- david whyte -
from the house of belonging,
many rivers press 2004
hardly noticed
moment
in which you wake,
coming back
to this life
from the other
more secret,
moveable
and frighteningly
honest
world
where everything
began,
there is a small
opening
into the day
which closes
the moment
you begin
your plans.
What you can plan
is to small
for you to live.
What you can live
wholeheartedly
will make plans
enough
for the vitality
hidden in your sleep.
To be human
is to become visible
while carrying
what is hidden
as a gift to others.
To remember
the other world
in this world
is to live in your
true inheritance.
You are not
a troubled guest
on this earth,
you are not
an accident
amidst other accidents
you were invited
from another and greater
night
than the one
from which
you have just emerged.
Now, looking through
the slanting light
of the morning
window toward
the mountain
presence
of everything
that can be,
what urgency
calls you to your
one love? What shape
waits in the seed
of you to grow
and spread
its branches
against a future sky?
It is waiting
in the fertile sea?
In the trees
beyond the house?
In the life
you can imagine
for yourself?
In the open
and lovely
white page
on the waiting desk?
- david whyte -
from the house of belonging,
many rivers press 2004
Tuesday 20 July 2010
As
... the rain falls from clouds moving above,
the moon peeks from behind the occasional cloud
glowing a golden yellow ... like a mirror
my feelings echo times gone by ... a wake up call
from the night sky ... it's time to get real
and pull myself from this dream, I need
to get myself back home now.
the moon peeks from behind the occasional cloud
glowing a golden yellow ... like a mirror
my feelings echo times gone by ... a wake up call
from the night sky ... it's time to get real
and pull myself from this dream, I need
to get myself back home now.
Saturday 10 July 2010
Twenty Four Hours Later
Through out the day the image of the deer being hit by the car has passed through my mind often. It's shocking. I slept badly and woke early. During the day I've spoken about what happened. I asked myself why I didn't think about stopping afterwards to check out if those involved were ok. I want to think that the deer was killed instantaneously, felt nothing. By this afternoon I was exhausted. I lay down on my bed and eventually fell asleep. As I was beginning to wake up I dreamt about the spirit of the deer rising out of its body. It's cliched and yet it helped me to begin to accept what happened last night. As shocking as it is and as disturbing as it is to see something that violent I feel as though I need to find a way of seeing this not as a random accident but as something that can and does happen to animals when they enter dangerous spaces like motorways. Harsh things happen and lives get lost. What's important is to prevent harm as best as possible and to honour the life.
Friday 9 July 2010
Gone in the blink of an eye
Driving back to Devon this evening on a warm summers night. The light had finally receded, the darkness broken by my car headlights on the motorway. As I'm approaching Exeter and starting to imagine being back at the college I suddenly make out the pale outline of a deer up ahead. In a split moment I swerved out of the middle lane and miss the deer, only to look behind to see the deer being hit full on by the car following me. Neither the deer or the driver had a chance at those speeds in that darkness. The deer flew into the air and landed on the road rigid as anything. It's like an awful nightmare. There's part of me that can't quite take it in and then the pictures flash in front of my eyes again - it's unbearable - gone in the blink of an eye. Alive one second, dead the next. Wiped out, for what, trying to get from one field to another. AArrggghhh, I feel sick!!!!! That is no way to die. I hate driving and cars. I hate it. Its so destructive. And the driver will have had the most dreadful experience to - that was a full size healthy deer. Its unbearable. It seems so random and unjust. Fuck. Fuck Fuck ... I don't know what to do except the one thing I can't do which is to undo what happened by winding back the clock to somehow stop the deer from getting on the motorway.
Tomorrow friends and family are gathering to mark the one year anniversary of Kate's death - she was randomly, accidentally, pointlessly, unfairly killed while cycling into University this time last year. She would have been 28 on the 8th July. Fuck, I keep seeing this deer flying in the air and it's bringing back the memory of what happened to Kate - it's crap, rubbish, fucked up - another life gone for no good reason. Gone in the blink of an eye and in that moment everything stops making sense to me. I don't want to be part of this anymore. This fucking random pointless suffering doesn't seem to ever stop! I can't work out what to do or what not to do. Nothing seems to make any difference. I want to bang my head against a wall. Anything to stop these thoughts, to stop the feelings overwhelming me. And its not even about me - I'm beside myself here ... fuck fuck fuck.
I pray with all my heart Kate didn't suffer ... the deer didn't suffer ... and the people in the car are ok.
Tomorrow friends and family are gathering to mark the one year anniversary of Kate's death - she was randomly, accidentally, pointlessly, unfairly killed while cycling into University this time last year. She would have been 28 on the 8th July. Fuck, I keep seeing this deer flying in the air and it's bringing back the memory of what happened to Kate - it's crap, rubbish, fucked up - another life gone for no good reason. Gone in the blink of an eye and in that moment everything stops making sense to me. I don't want to be part of this anymore. This fucking random pointless suffering doesn't seem to ever stop! I can't work out what to do or what not to do. Nothing seems to make any difference. I want to bang my head against a wall. Anything to stop these thoughts, to stop the feelings overwhelming me. And its not even about me - I'm beside myself here ... fuck fuck fuck.
I pray with all my heart Kate didn't suffer ... the deer didn't suffer ... and the people in the car are ok.
Saturday 3 July 2010
To call back from exile
I wish to be so close to the one I love that
I can hear their heart beat,
I can feel their soft embrace,
I can smell their seductive aroma,
I can see their eyes smile, and
I can taste their passionate kiss.
I want to call back from exile the fullest
spectrum of emotions that life can offer.
To be undone by a rainbow of experiences.
Every colour of feeling,
every note of touch,
every tickle of taste,
every sweetness of sound
and every vibration of sight.
May my spirit move my soul,
So I become entwined and engaged
In all our beingness.
To dance again,
To laugh to the end,
To cry, to sing, to love.
I can hear their heart beat,
I can feel their soft embrace,
I can smell their seductive aroma,
I can see their eyes smile, and
I can taste their passionate kiss.
I want to call back from exile the fullest
spectrum of emotions that life can offer.
To be undone by a rainbow of experiences.
Every colour of feeling,
every note of touch,
every tickle of taste,
every sweetness of sound
and every vibration of sight.
May my spirit move my soul,
So I become entwined and engaged
In all our beingness.
To dance again,
To laugh to the end,
To cry, to sing, to love.
Loving is eternal innocence
I believe in the world like I believe in a marigold,
Because i see it. But I don't think about it
because to think is not to understand ...
The world wasn't made for us to think about
But for us to look at and agree with ...
I don't have a philosophy: I have senses ...
If I talk about Nature, it's not because I know what it is,
But because I love it, and the reason I love it
Is because when you love you never know what you love
Or why you love, or what loving is ...
Loving is eternal innocence,
And the only innocence is not thinking ...
Alberto Caeiro
from 'The Collected Poems of Alberto Caeiro'
Published by Shearsman Books, Exeter.
Printed in Resurgence Magazine, July/August 2010, p.47
Because i see it. But I don't think about it
because to think is not to understand ...
The world wasn't made for us to think about
But for us to look at and agree with ...
I don't have a philosophy: I have senses ...
If I talk about Nature, it's not because I know what it is,
But because I love it, and the reason I love it
Is because when you love you never know what you love
Or why you love, or what loving is ...
Loving is eternal innocence,
And the only innocence is not thinking ...
Alberto Caeiro
from 'The Collected Poems of Alberto Caeiro'
Published by Shearsman Books, Exeter.
Printed in Resurgence Magazine, July/August 2010, p.47
Thursday 1 July 2010
Whatever you think ...
Whatever you think truth or fable
That in a thousand books you find
It all remains a Tower of Babel
Unless it is by love combined.
Goethe (1805)
Tuesday 29 June 2010
Transformation
There has been much heavy slow overwhelming energy around today. Despite the rain that fell last night a residue of tension lingers in the air. It can sometimes feel like you are coming up against a wall. Bang!
I went out to the labyrinth as an alternative to meditation. I felt the need to be in the fresh air and to move, be active rather than still. The magical labyrinth never fails to reveal something to me. This time as I began to tread slowly around the path a small brown frog hopped out in front of me. Not knowing much about the frog animal totem I'm reminded to look it up on my return.
Before I could do this the dinner gong sounded. I ate my dinner alone on one of the picnic tables beside the classroom. It's quiet there and I'm facing some beautiful trees. It's my day off and somehow I've barely done anything I had intended. Feeling restless I decided to take myself off to the moor for a walk round Venford Reservoir. I collected Becky on route and off we zoomed along the winding narrow lanes higher and higher until we passed acrossed a cattle grid and appeared up on top of the wide open moorland. It was not long until we were wandering down by the shore line of Venford. The recent dry weather has resulted in shrinking water levels. Becky splash about to her hearts content running in and out of the water, as we neared the feeder stream the ground seemed as if it was moving underneath our feet. On closer inspection I could see tens of tiny black frogs hopping from land to water. The frog appearing twice in one day. Now I knew I had to check out what this represents.
Back home I settle down to read about the frog animal totem and this is what I discovered;
The frog is the totem of metamorphosis. It symbolizes coming into your personal power. It reminds us not to become bogged down with day-to-day living.
It is the totem of water. Its voice calls forth the rains. Emotions are associated with water and a frog totem may be telling you to get in touch with your feelings.
People with frog medicine give support and energy where it is needed. They can cleanse the negativity from an environment.
It is time for transformation and for some frog energy.
Monday 14 June 2010
Let this then be
Let this then
Three simple words
Let this then
And yet I know
I will be undone
Let this then
Continues to its end
And I have slipped
Descending into
The lived experience
Feeling not thinking
Into a place
That opens me to faith
And once again David Whyte
In his inimitable style
Has moved the seemingly
Immoveable object in me
My heart is wide open
For all to see
Unhidden, unmasked and free,
Let this then
Be my new faith
In poetry.
Inspired by David Whyte's poem Faith
I want to write about faith,
about the way the moon rises
over cold snow, night after night,
faithful even as it fades from fullness,
slowly becoming that last curving and impossible
sliver of light before the final darkness.
But I have no faith myself
I refuse it even the smallest entry.
Let this then, my small poem,
like a new moon, slender and barely open,
be the first prayer that opens me to faith.
Three simple words
Let this then
And yet I know
I will be undone
Let this then
Continues to its end
And I have slipped
Descending into
The lived experience
Feeling not thinking
Into a place
That opens me to faith
And once again David Whyte
In his inimitable style
Has moved the seemingly
Immoveable object in me
My heart is wide open
For all to see
Unhidden, unmasked and free,
Let this then
Be my new faith
In poetry.
Inspired by David Whyte's poem Faith
I want to write about faith,
about the way the moon rises
over cold snow, night after night,
faithful even as it fades from fullness,
slowly becoming that last curving and impossible
sliver of light before the final darkness.
But I have no faith myself
I refuse it even the smallest entry.
Let this then, my small poem,
like a new moon, slender and barely open,
be the first prayer that opens me to faith.
Sunday 13 June 2010
The middle of my onion
If I were an onion what is in the middle?
Would I dare to share it with you?
Do I even know what is there?
I could sit in therapy
Hour after hour
Peeling back layer after layer of my onion.
To what end?
I could find a life coach
Who would ask me questions
On where the middle of my onion wants to be.
Would I ever get there?
Is it not enough to know
As an onion I have layers and a middle
That is me, an onion for all to see.
Circles are everywhere
Earlier this week I travelled to Wiltshire with two special friends, we camped overnight in a field opposite from Stonehenge, rising at 5.30am to join a small group of people to sing and dance the stones into a new day.
Whilst inside the stones I could sense and feel many types of circles, as well as the obvious standing stone circle I was within, there is our Mother Earth circle. We sang, chanted, moved and danced among the stones connecting with Gaia, our Mother Earth, to listen to her and to show our love and gratitude. There was a smaller crystal circle in the middle of us as we in the group held hands forming another circle. With my eyes closed and my heart open I could see the circle of the milky way in my minds eye. Circles are everywhere.
I spoke about how for me the symbol of the circle represents home and I'm reminded of when playing in the first snowfall of the winter just gone I instinctively drew circles in the crisp white snow up on Ilkley moor.
With no beginning or ending
a circle is a complete connection
it is equality in experience
all is one and all is home.
What happens to one
happens to us all.
This is wholeness!
Whilst inside the stones I could sense and feel many types of circles, as well as the obvious standing stone circle I was within, there is our Mother Earth circle. We sang, chanted, moved and danced among the stones connecting with Gaia, our Mother Earth, to listen to her and to show our love and gratitude. There was a smaller crystal circle in the middle of us as we in the group held hands forming another circle. With my eyes closed and my heart open I could see the circle of the milky way in my minds eye. Circles are everywhere.
I spoke about how for me the symbol of the circle represents home and I'm reminded of when playing in the first snowfall of the winter just gone I instinctively drew circles in the crisp white snow up on Ilkley moor.
With no beginning or ending
a circle is a complete connection
it is equality in experience
all is one and all is home.
What happens to one
happens to us all.
This is wholeness!
Monday 7 June 2010
I've gone from dreaming to steaming in 2 days ...
... what's that about?
In the last couple of days I've experienced two major mechanical breakdowns, first my car and second my hot water tank. It's a times like these I'm reminded how much I take all life's mechanical, ecological, social systems for granted. They are quietly doing their thing and only get the proper acknowledgement for what they provide when they stop. As so often life happens in three's I'm left asking, what's the next thing to break I wonder? All the kaputness is a much needed reality check ... I should be more grateful for the multiplicitous functionings that are operating every single milli-second of the day. To all the wondrous magical goodness out there THANK YOU. You are appreciated, honestly.
In the last couple of days I've experienced two major mechanical breakdowns, first my car and second my hot water tank. It's a times like these I'm reminded how much I take all life's mechanical, ecological, social systems for granted. They are quietly doing their thing and only get the proper acknowledgement for what they provide when they stop. As so often life happens in three's I'm left asking, what's the next thing to break I wonder? All the kaputness is a much needed reality check ... I should be more grateful for the multiplicitous functionings that are operating every single milli-second of the day. To all the wondrous magical goodness out there THANK YOU. You are appreciated, honestly.
Saturday 5 June 2010
am I dreaming?
did yesterday happen as I remember it?
my life is taking on a dream like quality,
what is real and what is fantasy?
it does not feel like my heart is where I am,
I want to be home again.
my life is taking on a dream like quality,
what is real and what is fantasy?
it does not feel like my heart is where I am,
I want to be home again.
Sunday 2 May 2010
It turned the beautiful month of May yesterday, Beltane and the start of spring. The bluebells are rising majestically spreading their wonderful shade of blue like a magical blanket underneath the outstretched arms of the trees. Wild garlic can be smelt from the path and the light stretches out further and further in the day. Good times! Life enhancing moments! Big deep breathes!
I turn the page on my calender to find the above image by Tom Purvis. This is a poster made in 1929 for the LNER railways. The symbolism feels strong. Could this be an opportunity to dive into the future? What does the month of may hold? And the colour red, what might it represent? Inspiration, passion ...
The rollercoaster is ever present and the transitions/learning edges continue a pace ... somewhere in the descent of initiation a releasing from the past has occurred, no going back now I'm deep in the wild, on wild mountain maybe, or in the wild woods? Old patterns are becoming easier to see and yet I can still fall into them too easily for my liking, however to be fair at least now I get angry with myself and then try and do something about it to make changes, to find new patterns, to find me.
The change towards greater authenticity is no straight forward path. The challenges are just as great, simply different and lessons need to be learnt a new.
This form of growing can be as uncomfortable as those awkward teenage years. The desire to withdraw is strong. And yet I know I ought to advance, advance, advance ... maybe that is where the armour of the red knight comes into my story?
Monday 26 April 2010
When paths cross ...
... in this journey we lovingly call life we occasionally cross paths with other travellers. At these moments an opportunity may open up to get to know the other. To find out where they are at on their journey, how they may be feeling, what adventures they have had or maybe having and what they are about? Not everyone will want to share their story or even give you the time of day and yet when someone does a connection can be made and a relationship may begin to develop. In that space there is an opening, the possibility for co-creation, learning and adventuring and just possibly for love to expand. It's in those moment's that life can be at it's most precious, magical and sweet. Fellow travellers take a multiplicity of forms, not all human, in fact mostly other than human. Last week on our walks Becky and I came across a confident fox strolling along the same path as us. We also meet up with Beau Fizz, the dear boy all antlers and beautiful eyes. In their own way each had much to share, I am grateful they stayed a while and shared their journey with ours ...
Friday 23 April 2010
Monday 19 April 2010
Undone by a jam tart ...
Day Three of the no sugar challenge and I was undone by a jam tart! Only the one, now back on the no sugar wagon. No kidding this is way harder than I thought it would be. Thankfully no more dark and scary dreams.
Sunday 18 April 2010
The No Sugar Challenge and Dream One
I decided yesterday to try and not eat sugar for one week. That means no sweets, chocolate, cakes, biscuits or ice-cream. I will eat fruit, yogurts and cereals although I know there is some sugar in them, I do need to be able to eat something of a reasonable diet. I heard it said recently that eating sugar is for some a way of eating their emotions. I'm going to see what sugar represents for me and if my emotions are changed or effected by cutting it out of my diet as much as possible.
On the first night I had a very vivid and effecting dream. In the dream I was mostly observing events as if I was watching them from above or afar, not involved or at least at first I was not involved. There was a young girl and she was cornered by a group of people, and these people seemed bigger than her, more powerful, they were menacing. Their intentions were not loving or caring. They trained a huge powerful water jet on her, freezing cold water was pushing the little girl back into a corner, she had her hands over her face and her arms together in front of her body to protect herself from the powerful icy cold jet of water. And the group of people were watching intently seemingly watching how the little girl was trapped, scared, isolated, alone and hurting. Were they punishing her? What could she have done to deserve this treatment? Why was she being treated in this way?
Eventually I could see wounds opening on her body and blood trickling down her legs in rivulets of red against her white skin. I couldn't understand why she didn't move. I couldn't understand why the group of people were trapping her against the wall in this way. None of it made any sense. And I could not see how this was going to stop. I wanted to stand with my back against the jet of water looking at the girl. I wanted her to see that there was someone there for her. I wanted the pain she was experiencing to stop. The whole scenario being played out was deeply disturbing. Why do people behave in this way? Why do we go too far and hurt people? And what was really effecting is to know that I could be anyone of these people. Any judgement is also a judgement against me. There I am observing, questioning, judging and the over-riding impulse is to do something, take action.
Doing something possibly eased my discomfort. I don't know. Maybe it's not always about working out what is going on, instead it's about working out what to do or how to respond. What I do know is I have been thinking about this all day. And the image of the scene has stuck in my head. And not in a good way. It leaves a threatening residue, a menacing feeling in its trace. Definitely not a warm fuzzy glow!
On the first night I had a very vivid and effecting dream. In the dream I was mostly observing events as if I was watching them from above or afar, not involved or at least at first I was not involved. There was a young girl and she was cornered by a group of people, and these people seemed bigger than her, more powerful, they were menacing. Their intentions were not loving or caring. They trained a huge powerful water jet on her, freezing cold water was pushing the little girl back into a corner, she had her hands over her face and her arms together in front of her body to protect herself from the powerful icy cold jet of water. And the group of people were watching intently seemingly watching how the little girl was trapped, scared, isolated, alone and hurting. Were they punishing her? What could she have done to deserve this treatment? Why was she being treated in this way?
Eventually I could see wounds opening on her body and blood trickling down her legs in rivulets of red against her white skin. I couldn't understand why she didn't move. I couldn't understand why the group of people were trapping her against the wall in this way. None of it made any sense. And I could not see how this was going to stop. I wanted to stand with my back against the jet of water looking at the girl. I wanted her to see that there was someone there for her. I wanted the pain she was experiencing to stop. The whole scenario being played out was deeply disturbing. Why do people behave in this way? Why do we go too far and hurt people? And what was really effecting is to know that I could be anyone of these people. Any judgement is also a judgement against me. There I am observing, questioning, judging and the over-riding impulse is to do something, take action.
Doing something possibly eased my discomfort. I don't know. Maybe it's not always about working out what is going on, instead it's about working out what to do or how to respond. What I do know is I have been thinking about this all day. And the image of the scene has stuck in my head. And not in a good way. It leaves a threatening residue, a menacing feeling in its trace. Definitely not a warm fuzzy glow!
Saturday 17 April 2010
I just had a moment ... !
Maslow called it self-actualisation ... I'm not sure that is what just happened and yet it is this sensation whereby a multiplicity of feelings, thoughts, events go capow and this tiny window of clarity, meaning takes place ... I'm not sure what to call it ... a moment ... when the transition clicks and I go oh yeah that's it ... I'm where I want to be and quick as a flash it's gone again. That's just happened to me. I was thinking about Joanna Macy's 'Work that Reconnects', what some call 'The Great Turning' and the shift from an industrial growth society to a life sustaining community and for me so much of what is going on focuses on seemingly what is going on out there and not what is going on in here. For me it's the in here that is fascinating. This is where the seed is planted, germinates and starts to grow. In a way I also accept there is no out there and in here. It's an artificial dualism, nevertheless, when personal responsibility is in play I bring my full self into the scenario and I am imagining who knows all about transition in every sense and then I was like well people who transition their gender, that's a no hiding situation. It's deeply personal and yet it involves everything you come into contact with and seemingly changes the fundamentals of your life. If someone can transition from male to female or female to male how does that compare with someone transitioning from an individuated ego-identified sense of self to a collective transpersonal sense of self? Does your sense of knowing, being and doing alter or become more authentic during this process of transition? I'm curious? And do I have the language to describe what it is people transition into being, knowing and doing in the shift to a life-sustaining community? It's all questions on this path!!! I don't even know if I am asking helpful questions anymore! It's easy for me to get lost once the tiny moments of clarity pass.
Some additional thoughts from Anne Ortelee. In the transition go for the place or choose the choice that offers you a tribe you can call your own. Where will you be happy doing what you love to do? Can you name that place and start to move toward the possibility of getting there? Life is full of potential each of us needs to give ourselves the support in taking the risk to change our beliefs. Name and support the process of acheiving our dreams. Seek out and stand in the vision of what you are trying to create. Let the sun shine on your back, head and face. Whisper a quiet resolve to the Sun ~ Come up with the positive, the POSITIVE version or vision of where you are going. State it as a declarative statement. Give it a statute of limitations and stand back. See what you can do to support yourself and your dream. If YOU don’t support your dream, why do you think other people will help you?
Some additional thoughts from Anne Ortelee. In the transition go for the place or choose the choice that offers you a tribe you can call your own. Where will you be happy doing what you love to do? Can you name that place and start to move toward the possibility of getting there? Life is full of potential each of us needs to give ourselves the support in taking the risk to change our beliefs. Name and support the process of acheiving our dreams. Seek out and stand in the vision of what you are trying to create. Let the sun shine on your back, head and face. Whisper a quiet resolve to the Sun ~ Come up with the positive, the POSITIVE version or vision of where you are going. State it as a declarative statement. Give it a statute of limitations and stand back. See what you can do to support yourself and your dream. If YOU don’t support your dream, why do you think other people will help you?
Thursday 15 April 2010
Be like a boat on a river - find the flow and go with it.
You know the saying, 'things sometimes have to get worse before they can get better', well that kind of sums up my day. I woke up this morning after a disturbed nights sleep. The evening before had not gone well. I felt out of things and out of sorts, the pre-leaving detachment process is not easy for me and always catches me unawares. I wake up slowly, take my time and head out for breakfast. The intended interviews first thing did not go to plan. It was during this conversation that energies began to shift and move. Noticing the uncomfortableness and being open to responding to the ouch. Keeping the heart open. Listening to others. Really engaged, I'm there for you listening. Making connections and trying as best as possible to hear the other whilst watching and reading the energy, the unspoken, the eyes, the body, the movement, the tone of voice the whole person. And in turn watching the senses of my own body. Knowing it is soon time to depart and yet knowing on some other level that this is not the way to be leaving. Only to discover that someone special has left without my saying goodbye and a planned capturing of the moment has not happened and all of a sudden I'm gone into the emotion of the lose and the tears are at the surface. My emotions have caught up with events. Now I can no longer keep quiet. I don't like how things are unfolding and I need to acknowledge my unhappiness to myself and others. More than this I need to say what I am uncomfortable with, what is it that I feel challenged by? It's the ouch moment returning again. The feeling of disconnect! What will reconnect me to the people I love? Being emotionally honest. Paddling my boat. And by naming these desires the Universe in its blessed wisdom supports and nurtures me and others. The special one returns unexpectedly, the capturing of the moment takes place, the hugs and reconnections are made and my boat is paddled up and down stream mixed in with laughter and wonder. Now I can leave ...
Wednesday 14 April 2010
transition
ouch! a line reached, a point crossed, the out-stretched palm of the hand figuratively thrust toward me, boom! sudden and unseen, I step back, retract, like a turtle into her shell, seeking safety and security, I know what my face is telling the world is somehow other than what I'm feeling, or is it? I'm deep within and my expression is for others to see, not me and I get asked if I'm ok, which would suggested my expression indicates otherwise, hum, distance, contraction, rejection, exclusion, withdrawal, is this what is happening? needs to happen? I don't know, maybe at points of transition it is best to tread ever more gently and listen to my soft animal body, talk less, react less, observe more, show gratitude, think of others, expand my heart so as not to feed the reoccurring film that wants to play entitled - 'self-doubt, outcast, outsider - you're not wanted or needed here anymore, go and leave and don't come back', the separation and moving on process flips like a switch, everyone reacts, takes cover, moves on, adjusts, adapts, this place is built to overcome separation, it does not want people to stay, or place roots, attachment is not wanted or desired, nurtured or expected, leavings are celebrated, I feel myself detach, disentangle, gathering up my belongs the return is impossible to imagine, uncomfortable to bear, too soon to contemplate, it's time to go again! again, it's time to go ...!
Thursday 8 April 2010
Wild Boat Woman
I fell in love today.
My heart sang
like a bird
singing the dawn chorus.
Aaahhhhhh .... sweet!
More soon.
'Nuff said.
Happy Daze.
My heart sang
like a bird
singing the dawn chorus.
Aaahhhhhh .... sweet!
More soon.
'Nuff said.
Happy Daze.
Tuesday 6 April 2010
brainrustiness
Is there such a word as brainrustiness? If there isn't there should be as it aptly describes my mental state right now. Or maybe I accidentally switched my brain off last autumn and now I'm trying to use it again I'm beginning to notice I'm not quite playing with a full deck, if you know what I mean!
If I were being a little more kind and generous with myself I could put this down to hormones or even having acquired a state of nowness. Living in the moment rather than juggling with the past and future. However that doesn't explain the basic forgetfulness I am experiencing.
I've always wondered what it would feel like to take a giant extended holiday and super chill. Well now I know. It feels like I'm floating, which is awesome. I can simply be, which is such a state of grace. And yet my concentration feels shot. And my memory is not even up to that of a goldfish. Three seconds and dink - blank!
If I were being a little more kind and generous with myself I could put this down to hormones or even having acquired a state of nowness. Living in the moment rather than juggling with the past and future. However that doesn't explain the basic forgetfulness I am experiencing.
I've always wondered what it would feel like to take a giant extended holiday and super chill. Well now I know. It feels like I'm floating, which is awesome. I can simply be, which is such a state of grace. And yet my concentration feels shot. And my memory is not even up to that of a goldfish. Three seconds and dink - blank!
Sunday 4 April 2010
I quit my 9 to 5 - there's no turning back!
Some people ask me,
What are you gonna be?
Why don't you go get a job?
All that I could say,
I won't give up my music,
Not me, not now, no way, no how!
What are you gonna be?
Why don't you go get a job?
All that I could say,
I won't give up my music,
Not me, not now, no way, no how!
Saturday 3 April 2010
Black Oaks
In the last month I have had 2 if not 3 encounters with the world of paid work. And I notice they are getting ever closer. I am struck by how different it feels to toil for no financial gain and to toil for coins. I'm more than happy to contribute, to pitch in, to provide for my needs and fulfil the needs of others. Ecological systems operate in cycles, flows of information and energy, no financial inducement or monetary price necessary. Each component takes what it needs if it's available and gives what it creates if desired by others. Cycles of give and take. It's a relationship thing not a market thing.
In her poem Black Oaks Mary Oliver writes ... "I don't want to sell my life for money. I don't even want to come in from the rain." I couldn't have put it better myself. Money takes away our ecological selves. It commodifies us. All forms of life are so much more than a product to be bought and sold.
Here's the poem in full. Black Oaks by Mary Oliver.
Okay, not one can write a symphony, or a dictionary,
or even a letter to an old friend, full of remembrance
and comfort.
Not one can manage a single sound though the blue jays
carp and whistle all day in the branches, without
the push of the wind.
But to tell the truth after a while I'm pale with longing
for their thick bodies ruckled with lichen
and you can't keep me from the woods, from the tonnage
of their shoulders, and their shining green hair.
Today is a day like any other: twenty-four hours, a
little sunshine, a little rain.
Listen, says ambition, nervously shifting her weight from
one boot to another -- why don't you get going?
For there I am, in the mossy shadows, under the trees.
And to tell the truth I don't want to let go of the wrists
of idleness, I don't want to sell my life for money,
I don't even want to come in out of the rain.
In her poem Black Oaks Mary Oliver writes ... "I don't want to sell my life for money. I don't even want to come in from the rain." I couldn't have put it better myself. Money takes away our ecological selves. It commodifies us. All forms of life are so much more than a product to be bought and sold.
Here's the poem in full. Black Oaks by Mary Oliver.
Okay, not one can write a symphony, or a dictionary,
or even a letter to an old friend, full of remembrance
and comfort.
Not one can manage a single sound though the blue jays
carp and whistle all day in the branches, without
the push of the wind.
But to tell the truth after a while I'm pale with longing
for their thick bodies ruckled with lichen
and you can't keep me from the woods, from the tonnage
of their shoulders, and their shining green hair.
Today is a day like any other: twenty-four hours, a
little sunshine, a little rain.
Listen, says ambition, nervously shifting her weight from
one boot to another -- why don't you get going?
For there I am, in the mossy shadows, under the trees.
And to tell the truth I don't want to let go of the wrists
of idleness, I don't want to sell my life for money,
I don't even want to come in out of the rain.
Monday 29 March 2010
Is anyone else phased by the hour going forward to summertime? Or is it just me?
As usual a lot can happen in a week and when the hour goes forward as well it can play havoc with my memory, state of mind, general sense of where I am and what I am doing. It's not helped by going to bed in the wee small hours and then having to wake up in the wee small hours. In between there's not much time for sleep! So if any of what I am about to write makes sense it is a small miracle.
I've spent the week in a place and with people that are profoundly transformative, which means most days I am presented with opportunities, surprises and experiences that I would not ordinarily have available to me. I'm trying to make the most of it and yet at the same time I recognise my need for silence and the outdoors. Being cooped up in a building all day is not good for me.
I started the week with an animal card reading to mark the spring equinox. I held the question where am I meant to be, and selected a card from the pack. I drew the Badger as my animal totem from now until the next equinox.
If you would like to read more about animal totems and more specifically badger medicine go here http://morningstar.netfirms.com/badger.html
What touched me is finding out that "in Native American "myths" Badger was the keeper of stories and this too indicates that story telling through the sharing of life experiences of the self or others, writing or other forms of communication such as art that "tells a story" is important to Badger people as well. Perhaps it is because Badger is the great story teller and myth and stories are so powerfully healing for so many that Badger folks cannot get too close to too many people: They have things to share with the wider world and being tied down to one person, place or thing goes contrary to what these folks came to planet earth to do. Many do require extreme amounts of "down time" time to be alone, even on a daily basis, if they are to be able to accomplish their healing work and even stay sane!"
This takes me on to a theme in a number of amazing conversations I've had during the week each in someway revolved around the theme of balancing energies - where the horizontal world meets the vertical world, or how some describe in organisational settings the rebalancing of alignment (decision-making and action) with attunement (nurturing and relationship building). Mythically this can be seen as finding a chalice for the sword or the relationship between the court and the forest. In the forest we move into liminal space in order to connect with the mystery and presence our futures, for which we can rehearse our contribution before heading back into the court to share our gifts, knowledge or skills.
For me right now I am fascinated by this process and how it is shared within communities or even if it can be shared collectively or does it have to be a personal journey or quest? The wound in the world manifests itself in many guises. One of which is the imbalance between male and female energies. When you are born into a patriarchal world you know what this imbalance feels like. How can we come together and rebalance our energies so as to live in a way that honours both? How does story and myth serve this process? I feel it is getting closer to the time when people need to step forward to explore this wound collectively and seek ways to heal it.
I've spent the week in a place and with people that are profoundly transformative, which means most days I am presented with opportunities, surprises and experiences that I would not ordinarily have available to me. I'm trying to make the most of it and yet at the same time I recognise my need for silence and the outdoors. Being cooped up in a building all day is not good for me.
I started the week with an animal card reading to mark the spring equinox. I held the question where am I meant to be, and selected a card from the pack. I drew the Badger as my animal totem from now until the next equinox.
If you would like to read more about animal totems and more specifically badger medicine go here http://morningstar.netfirms.com/badger.html
What touched me is finding out that "in Native American "myths" Badger was the keeper of stories and this too indicates that story telling through the sharing of life experiences of the self or others, writing or other forms of communication such as art that "tells a story" is important to Badger people as well. Perhaps it is because Badger is the great story teller and myth and stories are so powerfully healing for so many that Badger folks cannot get too close to too many people: They have things to share with the wider world and being tied down to one person, place or thing goes contrary to what these folks came to planet earth to do. Many do require extreme amounts of "down time" time to be alone, even on a daily basis, if they are to be able to accomplish their healing work and even stay sane!"
This takes me on to a theme in a number of amazing conversations I've had during the week each in someway revolved around the theme of balancing energies - where the horizontal world meets the vertical world, or how some describe in organisational settings the rebalancing of alignment (decision-making and action) with attunement (nurturing and relationship building). Mythically this can be seen as finding a chalice for the sword or the relationship between the court and the forest. In the forest we move into liminal space in order to connect with the mystery and presence our futures, for which we can rehearse our contribution before heading back into the court to share our gifts, knowledge or skills.
For me right now I am fascinated by this process and how it is shared within communities or even if it can be shared collectively or does it have to be a personal journey or quest? The wound in the world manifests itself in many guises. One of which is the imbalance between male and female energies. When you are born into a patriarchal world you know what this imbalance feels like. How can we come together and rebalance our energies so as to live in a way that honours both? How does story and myth serve this process? I feel it is getting closer to the time when people need to step forward to explore this wound collectively and seek ways to heal it.
Saturday 27 March 2010
Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front
Love the quick profit, the annual raise, vacation with pay.
Want more of everything made.
Be afraid to know you neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery any more.
Your mind will be punched in a card and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something they will call you.
When they want you to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something that won't compute.
Love the Lord. Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace the flag.
Hope to live in that free republic for which it stands.
Give you approval to all you cannot understand.
Praise ignorance,
for what man has not encountered he has not destroyed.
Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millennium.
Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion--put your ear close,
and hear the faint chattering of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world.
Laugh. Laughter is immeasurable.
Be joyful though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap for power,
please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep of a woman near to giving birth?
Go with your love to the fields.
Lie easy in the shade. Rest your head in her lap.
Swear allegiance to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and politicos can predict the motions
of your mind, lose it.
Leave it as a sign to mark the false trail, the way you didn't go.
Be like the fox who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.
- Wendell Berry -
Friday 26 March 2010
For those who are exhausted and hurt, may healing restore your strength. For those who feel lost and emotionally numb, may awareness awaken your spirit. And for all people, may they have the ability to realize their own visions.
When you surrender to the rhythm of Mother Earth, listen to her voice and touch the heartbeat of all living things. You know that enlightenment comes from deep within yourselves.
Be humble, calm down and listen very carefully. Then, you will find the path where you can live in harmony with the earth as an Earthman. That path is filled with lots of fun and joy.
Through the programs of Earthmanship,I want to share this way of life with as many people as possible.
May our children walk in the light and live their live every day with hope for the future. And may all life be connected and the world filled with joy and thanksgiving.
— Jun Okada —
For more information about this environmental education project in Japan click on http://www.earthmanship.com/eng_index.html
Sunday 21 March 2010
I love being a girl
"Being a girl is so powerful that we have had to train everyone not to be that." Eve Ensler speaking at the TED gathering in India November 2009. It's powerful and inspiring. Take 20 minutes out of your day to watch.
I AM AN EMOTIONAL CREATURE
I love being a girl.
I can feel what you're feeling
as you're feeling it inside
the feeling
before.
I am an emotional creature.
Things do not come to me
as intellectual theories or hard-shaped ideas.
They pulse through my organs and legs
and burn up my ears.
I know when your girlfriend's really pissed off
even though she appears to give you what
you want.
I know when a storm is coming.
I can feel the invisible stirrings in the air.
I can tell you he won't call back.
It's a vibe I share.
I am an emotional creature.
I love that I do not take things lightly.
Everything is intense to me.
The way I walk in the street.
The way my mother wakes me up.
The way I hear bad news.
The way it's unbearable when I lose.
I am an emotional creature.
I am connected to everything and everyone.
I was born like that.
Don't you dare say all negative that it's a
teenage thing
or it's only only because I'm a girl.
These feelings make me better.
They make me ready.
They make me present.
They make me strong.
I am an emotional creature.
There is a particular way of knowing.
It's like the older women somehow forgot.
I rejoice that it's still in my body.
I know when the coconut's about to fall.
I know that we've pushed the earth too far.
I know my father isn't coming back.
That no one's prepared for the fire.
I know that lipstick means
more than show.
I know that boys feel super-insecure
and so-called terrorists are made, not born.
I know that one kiss can take
away all my decision-making ability
and sometimes, you know, it should.
This is not extreme.
It's a girl thing.
What we would all be
if the big door inside us flew open.
Don't tell me not to cry.
To calm it down
Not to be so extreme
To be reasonable.
I am an emotional creature.
It's how the earth got made.
How the wind continues to pollinate.
You don't tell the Atlantic ocean
to behave.
I am an emotional creature.
Why would you want to shut me down
or turn me off?
I am your remaining memory.
I am connecting you to your source.
Nothing's been diluted.
Nothing's leaked out.
I can take you back.
I love that I can feel the inside
of the feelings in you,
even if it stops my life
even if it hurts too much
or takes me off track
even if it breaks my heart.
It makes me responsible.
I am an emotional
I am an emotional, devotional,
incandotional, creature.
And I love, hear me,
love love love
being a girl.
Eve Ensler, a playwright and activist, is the founder of V-Day, a global movement to end violence against women and girls. In conjunction with I AM AN EMOTIONAL CREATURE, V-Day has developed a targeted pilot program, V-Girls, to engage young women in our "empowerment philanthropy" model, providing them with a platform to amplify their voices.
I AM AN EMOTIONAL CREATURE
I love being a girl.
I can feel what you're feeling
as you're feeling it inside
the feeling
before.
I am an emotional creature.
Things do not come to me
as intellectual theories or hard-shaped ideas.
They pulse through my organs and legs
and burn up my ears.
I know when your girlfriend's really pissed off
even though she appears to give you what
you want.
I know when a storm is coming.
I can feel the invisible stirrings in the air.
I can tell you he won't call back.
It's a vibe I share.
I am an emotional creature.
I love that I do not take things lightly.
Everything is intense to me.
The way I walk in the street.
The way my mother wakes me up.
The way I hear bad news.
The way it's unbearable when I lose.
I am an emotional creature.
I am connected to everything and everyone.
I was born like that.
Don't you dare say all negative that it's a
teenage thing
or it's only only because I'm a girl.
These feelings make me better.
They make me ready.
They make me present.
They make me strong.
I am an emotional creature.
There is a particular way of knowing.
It's like the older women somehow forgot.
I rejoice that it's still in my body.
I know when the coconut's about to fall.
I know that we've pushed the earth too far.
I know my father isn't coming back.
That no one's prepared for the fire.
I know that lipstick means
more than show.
I know that boys feel super-insecure
and so-called terrorists are made, not born.
I know that one kiss can take
away all my decision-making ability
and sometimes, you know, it should.
This is not extreme.
It's a girl thing.
What we would all be
if the big door inside us flew open.
Don't tell me not to cry.
To calm it down
Not to be so extreme
To be reasonable.
I am an emotional creature.
It's how the earth got made.
How the wind continues to pollinate.
You don't tell the Atlantic ocean
to behave.
I am an emotional creature.
Why would you want to shut me down
or turn me off?
I am your remaining memory.
I am connecting you to your source.
Nothing's been diluted.
Nothing's leaked out.
I can take you back.
I love that I can feel the inside
of the feelings in you,
even if it stops my life
even if it hurts too much
or takes me off track
even if it breaks my heart.
It makes me responsible.
I am an emotional
I am an emotional, devotional,
incandotional, creature.
And I love, hear me,
love love love
being a girl.
Eve Ensler, a playwright and activist, is the founder of V-Day, a global movement to end violence against women and girls. In conjunction with I AM AN EMOTIONAL CREATURE, V-Day has developed a targeted pilot program, V-Girls, to engage young women in our "empowerment philanthropy" model, providing them with a platform to amplify their voices.
Saturday 20 March 2010
The Magical Magnificense of Story
I rarely read stories because I am so infrequently captured by them. It takes a lot to genuinely draw me in and envelop me in other worlds. Why? Because if it doesn't feel real I can't relate. And by real, I don't mean literally real I mean emotionally authentic. I need to care and I need to know you care. Life is too short not to care. Ambivalence is a waste land I don't wish to linger upon for anymore time than is totally necessary. In short, story-teller, tell me something that is true!
This last week I have been exposed to depths of story that made my head spin. In a good way! I sense chapters are ending and beginning. And at the endpoint there is a feeling of lose and at the beginning there is a feeling of anticipation. What next?
Earlier today I was reading a recap of the last episode of Skins, a Channel 4 TV programme for the kids, which has dark undertones and rich characterisations of adolescence with a plot line that occasionally sails close to the ridiculous and a soundtrack of enormously danceable proportions. Anyhoo, Heather Hogan, is recollecting events when she goes off on one about the place of story in our lives and in that moment captures in words what I've been feeling for weeks if not months, so here it is ...
"The greatest gift a storyteller can give you — and you'll never convince me there is a greater gift than story — is to tell you something real. My favorite book starts like this: The world is dark, and light is precious. Come closer, dear reader. You must trust me. I am telling you a story. Which is the honest-to-God most seductive thing anyone could ever whisper into my ear.
Life is messy, yeah? All these unrelated events — inane, monotonous, trivial — threaded together by time. When you die, someone ties the thread together, maybe even in a bow, but there's still no shape to it. And without shape, there is no meaning. Most lives are shapeless, and that's OK, because you know what else is shapeless? The night sky — or it would be if someone hadn't drawn Orion and Pegasus and Cassiopeia onto heaven's canvas.
Constellations are just another story: form to the madness, order to the chaos. Fiction resonates because it does the same thing — only instead of drawing pictures of kings out of unrelated points of light, it draws pictures of us out of unrelated points of life. Authentic stories, real stories get inside us in a way nothing else can."
This leaves me wondering ,where am I in my story? What dragons do I have to slay?
Can I tell you my truth? Hum, watch this space ... to find out!
This last week I have been exposed to depths of story that made my head spin. In a good way! I sense chapters are ending and beginning. And at the endpoint there is a feeling of lose and at the beginning there is a feeling of anticipation. What next?
Earlier today I was reading a recap of the last episode of Skins, a Channel 4 TV programme for the kids, which has dark undertones and rich characterisations of adolescence with a plot line that occasionally sails close to the ridiculous and a soundtrack of enormously danceable proportions. Anyhoo, Heather Hogan, is recollecting events when she goes off on one about the place of story in our lives and in that moment captures in words what I've been feeling for weeks if not months, so here it is ...
"The greatest gift a storyteller can give you — and you'll never convince me there is a greater gift than story — is to tell you something real. My favorite book starts like this: The world is dark, and light is precious. Come closer, dear reader. You must trust me. I am telling you a story. Which is the honest-to-God most seductive thing anyone could ever whisper into my ear.
Life is messy, yeah? All these unrelated events — inane, monotonous, trivial — threaded together by time. When you die, someone ties the thread together, maybe even in a bow, but there's still no shape to it. And without shape, there is no meaning. Most lives are shapeless, and that's OK, because you know what else is shapeless? The night sky — or it would be if someone hadn't drawn Orion and Pegasus and Cassiopeia onto heaven's canvas.
Constellations are just another story: form to the madness, order to the chaos. Fiction resonates because it does the same thing — only instead of drawing pictures of kings out of unrelated points of light, it draws pictures of us out of unrelated points of life. Authentic stories, real stories get inside us in a way nothing else can."
This leaves me wondering ,where am I in my story? What dragons do I have to slay?
Can I tell you my truth? Hum, watch this space ... to find out!
Monday 8 March 2010
The Guest House
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
- rumi -
translation by Coleman Barks in The Essential Rumi
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
- rumi -
translation by Coleman Barks in The Essential Rumi
Sunday 7 March 2010
Beyond Control
It is beyond our control
We are walking
Into forces beyond our control,
Into a burning axis of denial
As this weary planet shudders
In the soundless night.
There's something inside pushing,
Some ancient urge eating us through.
We are the driven ones
Drinking dry the breast,
Riding the thawing warm hide,
Pushing deeper into the slippery well.
There is no return.
Prophets see the the future times
Shaped by poisonous desire
Of corporate thirst
Seething through virgin lands
Where dry winds blow
Hot and scorched rain falls
As wild tigers roar their dying call.
Unchecked will hardened in iron flesh
Striding across laced webs of intricacy,
Grown these million years.
Genetic codes and cyber chips
Cradled in shallow hands
Devouring the future's birthright
As we sink in the quicksands
of rampant appetite gorging
On a daily spillage of news.
Towers of dead tress
Turn worlds of words
Into spinning numb,
Weeping sounds
As the Earth haunts,
With a melancholy lament,
The wilderness of our wasted hearts.
In different frequencies whales sing
And oceanic tides flow
Into our desolate souls
As we sink in cold fury.
In night dreams we sweat
And move in the mystery.
See how a small yellow flower
Pushes through the concrete
To open delicate petals to the dawn.
Why are we not in awe?
We are frozen
In narrow armour,
Hidden under a glittering cloak.
Feel it in the frustration
As we sit apart from one another
In cosy armchairs,
Our roots withered,
Lost in time,
Dissolved in space.
Across the far oceans
A lone bagpipe
Mourns
Our silent tears.
- Thanissara -
We are walking
Into forces beyond our control,
Into a burning axis of denial
As this weary planet shudders
In the soundless night.
There's something inside pushing,
Some ancient urge eating us through.
We are the driven ones
Drinking dry the breast,
Riding the thawing warm hide,
Pushing deeper into the slippery well.
There is no return.
Prophets see the the future times
Shaped by poisonous desire
Of corporate thirst
Seething through virgin lands
Where dry winds blow
Hot and scorched rain falls
As wild tigers roar their dying call.
Unchecked will hardened in iron flesh
Striding across laced webs of intricacy,
Grown these million years.
Genetic codes and cyber chips
Cradled in shallow hands
Devouring the future's birthright
As we sink in the quicksands
of rampant appetite gorging
On a daily spillage of news.
Towers of dead tress
Turn worlds of words
Into spinning numb,
Weeping sounds
As the Earth haunts,
With a melancholy lament,
The wilderness of our wasted hearts.
In different frequencies whales sing
And oceanic tides flow
Into our desolate souls
As we sink in cold fury.
In night dreams we sweat
And move in the mystery.
See how a small yellow flower
Pushes through the concrete
To open delicate petals to the dawn.
Why are we not in awe?
We are frozen
In narrow armour,
Hidden under a glittering cloak.
Feel it in the frustration
As we sit apart from one another
In cosy armchairs,
Our roots withered,
Lost in time,
Dissolved in space.
Across the far oceans
A lone bagpipe
Mourns
Our silent tears.
- Thanissara -
Saturday 6 March 2010
manifesting chocolate brownies
This week I take myself off to a quiet, beautiful secluded part of wondrous Devon for my first full on retreat experience. By Day 4 I'm on a roll with feeding the chickens, taking care of the cats and generally meditating the heck out of myself. It's Day 5 and I've not had a biscuit or a piece of cake all week. It's cold turkey central and I'm feeling the pain. From the kitchen window I'm looking at one of the most stunningly awesome views of my life, taking in the sheering breath taking gorgeousness of mother nature all I can think about is chocolate brownies!!! The very first thing I plan to do on leaving the retreat is go and find a bakery buy a brownie and luxuriate in eating it. Yum. In that moment up the stairs walks the retreatant manager, he places a small box on the kitchen table and says to me, 'oh, by the way, I've been meaning to give you all some cake left over from a meeting I went to yesterday'. I look inside the box and to my astonishment are four chocolate brownies ... I'm freaking myself out here ... this law of attraction is powerful stuff, now I'm manifesting chocolate brownies. Holy baked beans batman - what next?
Friday 26 February 2010
The initiation: to the abyss, to silence ... and alone!
I've known for a while that what I need is rest and play. I've named that to myself and others for many months. What I am now beginning to see is that the first steps are into rest and that this must take place before the play can really begin. 'Rest' as I called it is at its core an initiation, a sacred disintegration. It is a rite of passage from what Richard Rohr might describe as first phase of life to second phase of life. A transition if you will from an ego driven process of individuation to a transcended sense of self, that some call an ecological self or the sacred feminine. In her book 'The Dance of the Dissident Daughter', Sue Monk Kidd describes her experience as a shift away from patriarchy to a rebirthing of the feminine Divine. "making this transition ... can be beautiful and deeply moving, even cataclysmic in its effect on our lives. But it also means a time of ordeal, descent, darkness and pain." (p.88.)
This is not an anti-male agenda nor a proto-feminist agenda and by this I mean the usurping of patriarchy for matriarchy. I'm not describing a transference of power-over from one gender to another. It is about rebalancing energies and returning the goddess to a place of visibility, recognition and equanimity. For each woman it requires a rediscovery of her own womanhood. And this is where the initiation plays a part. For the new to emerge the old must disassemble, disintegrate and die. This can be lonely, painful and isolating stuff. And yet in the letting go and surrendering process, in approaching the abyss, it is possible for the creative energies of the new to spring forth.
Sue Monk Kidd describes it as such;
"When a woman starts to disentangle herself from patriarchy, ultimately she is abandoned to her own self. She comes to an unknown place where she must let the old way of being a woman die and the new way come forth. During initiation the new feminine potential - that rambunctious girl-child that was conceived and birthed inside during her awakening and who really has been there all along - starts to grow and develop into the woman she will be." (p.88-89)
The rambunctious girl-child wants to play, to have fun, to be creative, to explore, question and discover new frontiers of being and meaning. Before the play begins comes the solitude of descent. This is where I find myself. It cannot be avoided or gotten round or bridged over. The darkness maybe uncomfortable, painful and yet it is not to be feared for it is a necessary part of the initiation, "first before the reshaping, the re-creation, there is the blank, stunned space of feeling stripped and peeled. We are not who we used to be and not who we will become. We are in the terrain of 'unmeaning'. And we are alone in it." (p.95)
"Feeling stripped and peeled" reminds me of an image I saw this week at an exhibition titled 'Art, Ecology and Economy' at the Centre for Contemporary Art and the Natural World (http://www.ccanw.co.uk). You could see the fingers of a human hand slightly pinked from the process of stripping the fur off a dead grey squirrel. The translucent sinewed body of the squirrel has its back on display. I could feel the vulnerability. More than that at times I was left wondering if the squirrel was still warm with life, although my rational mind knew this not to be the case. The line between life and death seemed immediate and thin. For me this skinless squirrel was a provocative image - I could sense the power exerted by the human hand, the signs of that power were clearly there to see. Paradoxically there also appeared to be a tenderness in the clasp of the human hand around the body of the creature in such a way as to play tricks on my eyes and emotions; was this a tiny newborn or a dead skinned squirrel?
I've spoken to other women about the feelings of isolation and loneliness. Some say it is a necessary part of the journey and therefore accept it for what it is. Whilst others say although this is what you maybe feeling, know that others have gone before, others are having the same experience now and others will follow; in that you are not alone.
And so the initiation begins ...
This is not an anti-male agenda nor a proto-feminist agenda and by this I mean the usurping of patriarchy for matriarchy. I'm not describing a transference of power-over from one gender to another. It is about rebalancing energies and returning the goddess to a place of visibility, recognition and equanimity. For each woman it requires a rediscovery of her own womanhood. And this is where the initiation plays a part. For the new to emerge the old must disassemble, disintegrate and die. This can be lonely, painful and isolating stuff. And yet in the letting go and surrendering process, in approaching the abyss, it is possible for the creative energies of the new to spring forth.
Sue Monk Kidd describes it as such;
"When a woman starts to disentangle herself from patriarchy, ultimately she is abandoned to her own self. She comes to an unknown place where she must let the old way of being a woman die and the new way come forth. During initiation the new feminine potential - that rambunctious girl-child that was conceived and birthed inside during her awakening and who really has been there all along - starts to grow and develop into the woman she will be." (p.88-89)
The rambunctious girl-child wants to play, to have fun, to be creative, to explore, question and discover new frontiers of being and meaning. Before the play begins comes the solitude of descent. This is where I find myself. It cannot be avoided or gotten round or bridged over. The darkness maybe uncomfortable, painful and yet it is not to be feared for it is a necessary part of the initiation, "first before the reshaping, the re-creation, there is the blank, stunned space of feeling stripped and peeled. We are not who we used to be and not who we will become. We are in the terrain of 'unmeaning'. And we are alone in it." (p.95)
"Feeling stripped and peeled" reminds me of an image I saw this week at an exhibition titled 'Art, Ecology and Economy' at the Centre for Contemporary Art and the Natural World (http://www.ccanw.co.uk). You could see the fingers of a human hand slightly pinked from the process of stripping the fur off a dead grey squirrel. The translucent sinewed body of the squirrel has its back on display. I could feel the vulnerability. More than that at times I was left wondering if the squirrel was still warm with life, although my rational mind knew this not to be the case. The line between life and death seemed immediate and thin. For me this skinless squirrel was a provocative image - I could sense the power exerted by the human hand, the signs of that power were clearly there to see. Paradoxically there also appeared to be a tenderness in the clasp of the human hand around the body of the creature in such a way as to play tricks on my eyes and emotions; was this a tiny newborn or a dead skinned squirrel?
I've spoken to other women about the feelings of isolation and loneliness. Some say it is a necessary part of the journey and therefore accept it for what it is. Whilst others say although this is what you maybe feeling, know that others have gone before, others are having the same experience now and others will follow; in that you are not alone.
And so the initiation begins ...
Thursday 18 February 2010
When will I learn? Please let it be soon
If anyone wants to know how to make a bad situation worse, come to me, I am an expert, a grand master. If making bad situations worse was an Olympic event I would win gold. I can make bad situations worse without any seeming effort at all. It's like a nightmare of a gift. I keep seeing linear hierarchical systems wrecking injustice and judgement on the world. Power over, power over is scary to me. It makes me go ouch and I react with judgement, in defense and basically create a giant mess. What I see is people looking down on me, thinking they are better than me, being ambivalent and detached from me. I'm slowly beginning to sense what I'm seeing is not always what is there and that I should slow down and check out with those around me what is really going on. As the saying goes, be careful what you wish for it may come true! In naming what I feel or think I see it serves to create the reaction I'm fearing or wanting to avoid. I don't seem to be able to find a way out of this dark and dreadful place. All I seem to find is further isolation, delusion and suffering. This is awful. I don't know how to transform this into something constructive, restorative and loving. I'm lost and the trail of destruction I'm creating continues to grow. And yet I know I'm trying my best to change this.
In the darkness friends are like golden warming beacons of guidance and reassurance reminding me that I am not a toxic person. Yes I messed up and I have to take responsibility for that. The lessons are many and on going. When the ouch moment is triggered watch it and don't react. Watch it some more and see that it is not my authentic self. It is the revisiting of a painful experience from the past presenting an opportunity to transform the pain and see it with new eyes. In that moment choices are available. Come from a place of abundance. Find out what's on offer. Respond with a loving voice.
Ok it doesn't exactly undo what happened today, but it least it gives me hope that next time this situation occurs I may handle it differently and for that I am hugely grateful. And for the pain I triggered in others I am truly sorry.
In the darkness friends are like golden warming beacons of guidance and reassurance reminding me that I am not a toxic person. Yes I messed up and I have to take responsibility for that. The lessons are many and on going. When the ouch moment is triggered watch it and don't react. Watch it some more and see that it is not my authentic self. It is the revisiting of a painful experience from the past presenting an opportunity to transform the pain and see it with new eyes. In that moment choices are available. Come from a place of abundance. Find out what's on offer. Respond with a loving voice.
Ok it doesn't exactly undo what happened today, but it least it gives me hope that next time this situation occurs I may handle it differently and for that I am hugely grateful. And for the pain I triggered in others I am truly sorry.
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