Monday, 26 January 2015

I have a new benchmark and shall never settle for less

The stone and shell filled with the goodness we felt and shared was slid into the sea. The prayers embeded were for all that is good that we shared be multiplied in our lives. This slow unplaiting of the strands that wove us together has resulted in another tapestry slowly being woven with colours so bright, our hearts so filled and this expansiveness that is Love has grown.

My Good Friend Gerri found this and it echoed the exact process I have found myself in, and am deeply greatful to Our Higher Selves that guided us into the Ceremony of letting one another go in a forest… and planting what was old and no longer accurate…

“The culmination of one love, one dream, one self, is the anonymous seed of the next. There is very little difference between burying and planting. For often, we need to put dead things to rest, so that new life can grow. And further, the thing put to rest—whether it be a loved one, a dream, or a false way of seeing—becomes the fertilizer for the life about to form.

As the well-used thing joins with the earth, the old love fertilizes the new; the broken dream fertilizes the dream yet conceived; the painful way of being that strapped us to the world fertilizes the freer inner stance about to unfold. This is very helpful when considering the many forms of self we inhabit over a lifetime. One self carries us to the extent of its usefulness and dies.

We are then forced to put that once beloved skin to rest, to join it with the ground of spirit from which it came, so it may fertilize the next skin of self that will carry us into tomorrow. There is always grief for what is lost and always surprise at what is to be born. But much of our pain in living comes from wearing a dead and useless skin, refusing to put it to rest, or from burying such things with the intent of hiding them rather than relinquishing them.

For every new way of being, there is a failed attempt mulching beneath the tongue. For every sprig that breaks surface, there is an old stick stirring underground. For every moment of joy sprouting, there is a new moment of struggle taking root. We live, embrace, and put to rest our dearest things, including how we see ourselves, so we can resurrect our lives anew.”
― Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening: Having the Life You Want by Being Present to the Life You Have

We pay so much attention to beginnings, marriages, new jobs, new this new that. And in this process of letting my Beloved be Free into something that is far bigger than our relationship , her quest for self in another country that would have the right teachings for her soul… had me deeply aware of the process of honouring.

How about we all hold ceremony when we leave a country, job or Lover.

How about we do this gentleness and reverence in deep, deep thanks.

And how about we speak what did not work and set that free, and how about we speak about what was good and let it live?

And how about loving so big that it is a Free thing that is unfettered by ego?

I am also aware of the wisdom that great wounds require great healing and if this is done consciously, it will mend many things on so many levels…I am deeply sad, really grieving as if a Great Death has happened, letting go of someone that you Love unto a pathway that serves them best has been one of the most difficult things that I have done in this lifetime. It was not done alone, my Beloved also has found this painful, as we share a deep love for one another. 

Tears stream as I walk back to my home, the hill steeper than usual, heart heavier I suppose, yet, oh yet, the other side of this coin called love, gratitude and joy is equally close. We have loved well… I have a new benchmark and shall never settle for less… 

Sunday, 11 January 2015

Beach Yourself

Be patient with sadness.
Let it come closer, let it engulf you if it must.
Until there is no division between 'self' and 'sadness'.
Until you cannot call it 'sadness' at all.
Until there is only intimacy.

Sadness keeps you soft and flexible.
It reminds you, when you have forgotten,
of the beautiful fragility underneath all things.

In the softness of the heart lies its capacity to love.

Sadness is not the opposite of joy, but its gateway.

- Jeff Foster

You get up from your bed, sleep eluding. Jeans are pulled on, T shirt thrown. You reach the gate and know that this will be something that might never be done again. The hardness of the tar beneath your feet, pebbles sure to lodge. You know this walk, you have done it a 100 times for many different reasons. By the time you get to the beach you feel the metaphor of the sand pulling at your feet with sandals in your hand. Your clothes a heap, moon the only eye seeing.

And you take the wet sand, you scrub, your hair, your face, your hands. Every inch of you is beached. And on your knees you move into the ocean. Screaming into the tide, you shout and allow yourself to lose yourself to the grief and let the madness just be let loose. Only the sentient ones who swim will know, you don’t expect benediction. On your back on the dunes, the winking stars stare, as many as the sand particles, to blurry to see, you simply let yourself be. It is dramatic yes, you are Youman, you have a vast ocean of feelings that pluck and pull as you howl your losses.

Your walk home chafes you. The shower washing what you hope will be released in sweet waters. Your bed – you sink into. Maybe your mornings walk will give you something to hang onto. And maybe you need to visit the dark nights walk a few times before you feel removed from what drove you there.

Know this - that transmutation is painful, any rebirth is a dark, painful lonely time. It is never a comfortable process when Chapters end.
Know this  - you are in a powerful time of regeneration.

And one day you will awaken with something lighter in your Being, relieved that you knew that this too shall pass, and life’s full offerings have been renewed. You have released the old, broken open into the new and can finally welcome the change as the Gift it always is.

Tuesday, 2 December 2014

Living at Souls edge, is never for the fainthearted

So, here I sit. My hair is grey and I have many lines on my face. I stare over an endless horizon that I could simply walk into, a pool of purple as the sun sets. I am a Woman, a fine one, even if I don’t always think so. A Mother, who has raised Powerhouses. Both Women who walk their lives true, sooner than I ever did. I have loved a man, and found the memory later, that to love women is what called me from when I was little. I don’t question this. Drew wild tattoos on paper napkins with a dear friend, the symbolism only really seen now. My body carries a story that I already knew then.

It was hard, it was tough. Sometimes I wanted to leave this form, but those Women who I bore and who chose me as their Mama, were what kept me going as I struggled to find my place.

I found myself in small spaces… sitting on lawns listening to the furthest sound I could find. Lighting candles, making staffs, feathers found and love, incense burning. Losing myself in meditation after dinners and bodies tucked. I took to paint, easel set up, and music blaring. I painted my Wilds, I painted my life into being. I wept, I drank wine, put the music louder and painted till my arms hurt and dawn was rising…  

I worked, I loved the young ones I taught, and collapsed into bed after stories told. Singing chants that were written in chalk on my bedroom wall.  We moved, I followed Love till it was no more, then packed our bags again, to go to the ocean. Vowing not to ever follow anyone else but Myself again. Repetition of my own childhood swiftly cut in that seeing. Then I stormed out of places that no longer held integrity with my Soul.

So, another sunset is behind me. It’s hard, it’s tough. I will paint again. This time it’s, orange juice and most likely chocolate. The music has changed. I have feathers that I use for Shaman tools, a staff carved 20 years ago, an altar with sacred objects. A drum that I use for journey work, and land that I walk, that speaks whispers so deeply into my soul. I have a New Name, given by a Teacher whose words echo ancestry from another blood line I had, She named me, “Two Crows Flying”  (Thought and Memory bringing mystery’s from the other side) I have a Beloved, who is the Wind, She blows where She needs to, Loving her free Spirit just the way it is. She gifted me Big Medicine, in a cutting feather from a Cape Vulture, I am wary of the power in it, and will live into it slowly.  

And I stay, firmly rooted where I Am. My Fruit Women, walking their worlds so confidently learning their own fine lessons, with me watching with glowing heart. What the Dawn holds or the future is something I speak to the Great Spirit about, prayers in the Pipe. And then, even though I do speak, tomorrow is really never seen. 

I feel as if I am finally becoming unapologetically Wild. 

My true self arising from a very deep place. I am scared and exhilarated at the same time. Living at Souls edge, is never for the fainthearted…

Wednesday, 26 November 2014

Our very lives are prayers lived… a borderless feeling…

Ocean staring, cool day after Spring rain. I feel the familiar tightness in my throat. I have no idea why, it could be a thousand reasons and actually I don’t need to know right now.  I decide to just surrender. Shoulders shaking, hand in hair, I just surrender. Howling I weep, My grief, Your Joy, Our pain. Mouth wide, really simply letting what needs to come out moves its way without hindrance. Maybe my task right this very moment is to weep for all those who keep this healing at bay and maybe that’s all nonsense and it’s all mine. No matter… It is. It simply is. I am so wide open –

How do you explain that Prayers danced around an All Tree have opened an inner portal that transcends anything ever experienced? I know I Am, Yggdrasil as much as World Tree is me…

I stood, my feet growing deep
I swayed, my arms reaching high
They came,
They danced deep
They swayed arms reaching high
Light shivered through Me/Us
Prayers wrapped into EveryAll

And now I Am/We Are changed. The threads are as fine as a spiders web within, I am treading gently…I walk with another light in my eyes, a sense of an even greater Yearning. My heart is connected to so much more, its whelming, deepening and the reverberations have gone to unfathomable depths and equal heights into the Universe. Our prayers heard… Inner eyes seeing new lands, that will  be walked and thoroughly consumed…

And I weep in this knowing…. I weep today…

Our very lives are prayers lived… a borderless feeling…

Sunday, 19 October 2014

Seeded with Stones

I am growing a plantation
In my heart.
It’s been seeded with stones
Leaves, shells and fish bones.
Seals might grow next to 
A grove of eagles.
I will water it with my tears and saliva. 

Tiny ears of dormice will appear
Breaking through the morning suns greeting
Rainbows will hoe the ground to make anew
Once the harvest of a million little Earths
Growing like bells have been gathered. 
These will be strewn across the heavens.
I will tend the tender shoots
Of the gossamer Souls vine like reaching.

Come sit with me 
Climb into my Hearts Plantation
Where freedom lives and breathes clear air. 
You will notice its beat sounds like oceans movement.
You will taste honey as bees land on your
Come – climb within
And Hear My Love.

Tuesday, 14 October 2014

Recipe for Beginning

Recipe for Beginning

Take Seven Directions
And blend them with an oak wand
In a clay bowl made of your hands.
Feel, see, the heat of rising sun whooshing
To whirl with fire and noon,
Tempered by water and swimming things in a mix,
To set in stone with rattles shaking your bones.
Take this all to bed with you,
Make love to them with all of you…
Dream of Trees limbs shooting out your ears and eyes
Root deeply… hear the sound of the earth
Be the silent eyes of the mountain rooted,
With ages of knowing and the rumble
Of the deep earths core.
Lie on the beach, limp, with the water lap,  lapping you
Lifting you with each surge.
Deeper, higher into suns flame while the Sky watches
The center of you washing magic in…

Awaken to bake this all
Into words,
That can Feed the World.
Walk with light visible on your heels,
Don’t ascend yet.

There is too much to tell… 

Unfurling You

I see you,
I know you…
Your sap rises unbidden,
Fleshing out those limbs unseen
Your back arches looking up
Into the Bright Fire
Wide Sky,
Feeling the crackle in your limbs
Unfolding in tenuous shivering not perceived by the naked eye

Only You ~
What blossoming