Friday, 4 December 2015
I stood on the shore line. Aware of the horizons reach…mists coming in soon. I felt the shores icy lapping. What I see around me is such a reflection of life. We can only guess about the fog ahead, and we can feel the momentary discomfort of what is at our ankles. Turning around I see the mountain behind me, also shrouded in mist. I can picture what’s there but I could also be wrong. Pretty much what memory is like I reflect? The heavy ball of clay, a piece of my life now ready to go. I turn to the slow river. I moved slowly so that I could feel the life beneath my feet and wind in my hair, squatted and let her go.
I see the ball of clay that I have placed in the slow moving river. An offering to the waters of the world, this ball of clay was a statue that I made from raw clay two years ago. So much has shifted in me since, I am a very changed woman. I decided that I could release it, I stayed and watched the lessons. A brief prayer of thanks, a blessing of goodbye.
Warm clay immersed in a river. Life flowed around me, all I did was Be. As life flowed around me, the eddies shaped me. Particles of self flaking off. The sunlight caught the river at an angle that had gold streaming as my shape and form was changing. It felt a life time passed… I sat for an hour and slowly I dissolved into the Great All of the ocean. In that moment I could simply release my breath and be no more. I muse that death will be the same.
I stood, walking away aware of each step, each grain of sand and cold air around me. Breathing in the mist that entered my lungs. And know that I will never be the same after the lesson of the river.
Friday, 16 October 2015
How do you take the softness
Of the day
And keep its memory safe?
How do you preserve the little
Snake that was found dead in the road?
How can the memory of love be
Perhaps for the first you might
Make a blanket of leaves to keep
The second, take it and bury it with
Dignity, add flowers .
The third will permeate all of your days,
You know this.
Make a favourite dish and name it thus,
So you may sup on that love.
This life is filled with days
That you would want to keep
In a jar so that you may peek
At for its joy
But nothing will ever be as it is
So be fresh each moment
Relish, eat, taste, roll in each
Kisses that make you reel.
Be present each moment
Do not label it Good or Bad
Life simply IS
She stirs softly at first
A whispering beneath your skin
Perhaps years will pass
Before you reach to scratch
And then beneath your surface
She will emerge
And each of you
Will have something different
She stirs and rages
That feeling in your gut
When know that something
Is about to be born, vomited, screamed
You will run, your feet will become
Hooves, paws, or sinew body sliding
The Great Goddess
Will NOT be stilled
She wants to shout her name
She wants to Live
Lest you Die Inside
Rather reach to scratch now…
Rather tend the flickering
In your eyes when your mirror
Shows something else
Rather bow down to the river
And let yourself be flowed
Because if you don’t TEND
Your end will not be what you died
To come for
Friday, 4 September 2015
Here I am washed up on the shore, tattered and torn, but alive. How do you explain an illness that changes your life, how do you explain that no medical Doctors could not pin point my decline? This is the death that happens when you dare step into Being, it will come. It will come in a form that you will not expect.
I am moving into the acceptance that something in me will no longer be present. I am coming to accept that I am quieter than ever before, that I know stillness, really know it. There were nights when I lay in my bed after each download of other lives being cleared, shaking with the scenes seen… that I thought, perhaps this is my current ending, perhaps it’s time to go. The only fear I had was “I will not see my dear daughters move into their spaces of making the vast differences that I know they are and will do”. My Furmily were my comfort and kept me moving, taking them for a walk, one slow step after the other every morning before I collapsed onto my couch to just sit. Involuntary meditation!
In a dream state, in this other altered space that I was in, I saw how clearly I am Mother Earth and she is me. Our lives inexorably linked, that my toxins are hers, my healing hers. That Her Soul is My Soul and that ascension is not just a YouMan process but that every Bee, Stone Person, Standing Person, Plant Person, all sentient in their own manner is Ascending.
When confronted with the vulnerability of your mortal self, you begin to live differently, and you know that you are not the same being that entered the storm. People will look at you and think that you have returned to health, but a limb is missing. I am not sure what has grown in place instead…
What have known is this:
I saw the ribbons of me
Blowing in the wind
Strings of me being undone
I felt my self unravel
All of me coming apart
The bright colours streaming
Sunset catching the chakra
Colours of me,
I saw myself
The strings of me lifting high
And by some mystery
Floated into heavens loom
To be woven
Into something else
But perfectly me
Every thread made into another pattern
And instead of ascending
The descent into the ground
The roots of my Mother
I saw with clear new senses
Is ALL here already…
Wednesday, 1 April 2015
I can feel and see the turning of the days. I know my view well, the sun sets at a different degree. It’s not so much the time it sets as to where over the ocean it sinks. It’s a slow thing this, a gradual cooling of the mornings. Subtle.
This is why I do what I do. I have been wanting to live the seasons – I left the seasons when I was no longer a child. What a loss. In a building for so many years, from 33 to 46 living by someone else’s demands when to go to work and when to sleep and wake. There was no subtly to my life, winter to spring, an unseen thing.
And here, here I am. Knowing the feel of the air of my skin what season it is… hearing the birds, seeing where the sun rises. And feeling my body move into another season… This led me to the thoughts about how much we lack seeing real time lives play out around us.
We have moved so far away from the secure nurturing of close family and village. There are no elders, there are no women pregnant around, or those raising young ones.
The only thing that we see is exactly where we are instead of the tabloid of the ages of Maiden, Mother, Crone playing out in front of us. This leaves us without the knowledge of sharing all the stages that we enter. What a loss… so that when there are life changes, moving from one Season into another, there is no knowledge of what we should expect, feel or move into.
Let us start paying attention to the older stories, the fire side times. Start looking around and thinking of how we can change this enormous loss of identity of community.
(I’d still be the hermit witch at the end of the lane but I would be serving my community)
Wednesday, 25 February 2015
If you think you can step into a normal life after spending anytime in Sacred Space you are mistaken. So drop the thoughts of thinking, how am I going to feel what’s normal again? You are changed. Your very structure has altered.
I flew high, and saw the Lights moving along the beach. Fireflies during the day. The strands were weaved from one heart to another. I sensed the presence of the Elements moving and weaving their way through Pacha Mama. I saw the sparks of light glow whenever a revelation was felt and seen. And swiftly I return to my human form, shaking my feathers.
The message is that you are not separate and it is coming through your feet as you walk Pacha Mama.
The Cacou eaten, Andean blessings round the fire and hall. All ancient sacredness in the movement, drumming, the art, the sharing the eating of fine foods. Inner eyes seeing the great sacred geometry structure of a spinning Merkaba expand from the central point of our loving intention. Our womanliness creating a space for us… this is carried now all around you and wherever you go you will leave a wake of sparks.
We stepped between times and carry the mystery of all time. Calling on ancient mystery’s we all carry in our Beings. We carry it the way only a Woman can, with intent of birth and rebirth.
So keep walking this edge that you have been inevitably called to. Curve with the waves and keep reforming as the Ocean does. Fly, crawl, and roll on the ground, be the rawness that you are called to be.