I Am but a breath, a glimpse of life and death in an instant, I am only watching a replay of what has already been. I Am the Constant…

The year was in and out just as the tide comes and goes. A breath on the wind of the dunes that I see build grow, blow. What lessons did I glean in the transition from one life into another?

That the void is one of the most fruitful places you can be in, and that the end of something can be the beginning of the same thing but with more depth you ever thought before. I reincarnated last year. It has become more and more evident as I grow older, that we undergo life reincarnations in this brief time that we perceive this life. If we truly seek what is real, and the basis of All, is really Love, that THIS moves us between lives within One Life...

I look at myself in the mirror, hair growing a bit longer, wild tousled curls… and the extra lines I have on my face. I feel a 100 years older in one year. This is by no means coming from only a place of what would traditionally would be called “bad times”… I turned my head and heart round that concept and turned all that came my way into “I Am All possibilities”. Life is suffering, the road to enlightenment does not have it all roses. This is such a misconception that if any realisation should come you way that it automatically “makes things better”. 

The only thing that gets better is your perception of what comes your way. 

I Am not the THING that glares at me, I am not the fear that lies in my belly. I Am not anything that I see.

I Am but a breath, a glimpse of life and death in an instant, I am only watching a replay of what has already been. I Am the Constant… 

This I my heart It is unlike any other It beats and quivers with Feathers from ravens

I am a blessed being that some know me well enough to hand me shiny things that rainbow in the sun, that witness a ravens feather dropping at my feet and the shiver of delight that I have at this gift. I am blessed that I have been seen wondering at the gold of single strand of grass as the sun catches it. That see my tears at creatures that are hurt, and love in the same heart. That listen to the waves roar and wonder at the crashing in the same manner…

This I my heart

It is unlike any other

It beats and quivers with

Feathers from ravens, owls

It shimmers with fur

From loved creatures

Manes of horses, regal cats,

And leaves shiver around her

As she pumps with oceans thud

Mud and rain fly off her as she

Keeps me moving

And looking closely

You will see a roaring fire deep inside

And the words

I AM THAT

Sounding, sounding each breath I take

I essentially felt like an Elf stepping into a city.

I sat in my quiet time this morning watching wave bows spray their brief colored blessings. In deep reflection, I unpacked my emotions and insights from my afternoon spent with a Circle of Sisters. Each Being carrying a unique gift. I dared to step into an underbelly space with my thoughts. No one can escape their childhood – no one can. Mine was safe and wonderful with my family but we moved around a lot. I went to six schools in different towns, and it branded me. It left a mark on my personality. I would always be the new one, and to overcome that I made many masks to wear, to gain the acceptance of my peers, funny, articulate and on the face of it quite adjusted. Yet, I went home, buried myself in books, did not join in the madness of teen parties and essentially felt like an Elf stepping into a city. My own manner of being spiritual was also foreign to the body of Calvinists and Catholics. Wicca was my rhythm, it came naturally... so the setting apart became something deliberate perhaps. It became something I could carry with me where ever we went, the Blue Spaceship of home would always be with me and nurture me. 

I carried the masks deep into my adulthood. It is only in my later years that I have begun to find my authenticity, dropped my masks and have become who I actually am. A quiet person, prone to deep reflection, solitary. Since leaving my corporate job two years ago, I have fundamentally been a hermit since… just finding my voice. It’s a still one, my Medicine is silence…

And there I sat on the lawn, the newbie again, in a circle of people who have walked a path with one another and I felt the same things arising again. I found myself exercising my lack of masks, being still and only really speaking when it was called for. I wondered what I could bring to these women? What authentic little Light am I? How may I serve this little community?

The afternoon was spent observing the other Lights around me. That is what I do, I See. Each women’s own Beingness shone through in the art that they created, each one bringing something so real and vulnerable really. It has given me great reassurance. I will begin to find a way of living into the world again with these sister. I look forward to being a part of the Whole they seem to bring. I am grateful… 

Silver ocean butter yellow bright sun.

The wind makes a particular noise when it whistles through a fence. I stopped a while and listened to this tune wistfully joining the bird song. I was aware of the absence of inner noise and smiled. About 25 years ago when I first began to meditate, I clamored to still my mind. In exasperation one day, I sat in the middle of the lawn. Breathed in the smell of drying grass and began to listen. First I listened to the closest things, man, nature, dog, children all the noises in the street. Then I began to listen further and further away and click… I was gone. When I eventually came back into the noise of my mind, I made a mental note never to forget this day. The wonder of finally finding my tool to quieten.

Walking meditation remains my favourite, I reach heightened senses of not being here but being perfectly in the now. Today I had a restlessness, an ache, so I took off. The recipe the same. First I listen to my footfalls. The crunch of gravel beneath my feet, then my clothing, jeans rustling, breath aware. Then I stretch away and begin moving away from self.

 It was still when I began to walk, but by the time I reached the long fence that divides Scarborough from the Cape Point Nature reserve, the had wind picked up. A Bokmakirie sang the duet I love so, and then a whistle, through the fence, a low tune, picking up with the rustle of the bushes, leaves and sand adding its low music. It felt like I was privy to the start of an orchestra that sang for my ears alone. My tummy flipped in delight. I continued my walk starting again at footfalls, and by the time I had reached the beach, I was perfectly here now with ocean crashing and the wavebows catching the setting sun. Silver ocean butter yellow bright sun.

Thoughts briefly came in the peace state, calling in:

Serpent of the South, Water and Humbleness

Lion of the West, Fire and Courage

Horse of the East, Earth and Power

Eagle of the North, Air and All seeingness

May I embody all of you

And the phalanx of Ancestors on my left, my Matriarchal and the right Patriarchal. All joined in one moment, all present now…The walk home was done in an utter thoughtless space and I reached my wooden cottage before I knew it… so thankful for that simple lesson that I learned and still love to use.

The power of words, are sparks, flames, trails of energy that leave your body

I awoke this morning thinking “Oh its Joyday!”. The thought sat, and grew as I padded to the kitchen to fetch my cherished one cup of coffee to brew next to my bed. I peeked under the covers to see my snoring Pepper-Anne Pug still dreaming Dig Dreams and Salem the Noble hummed next to me.

The Joyday thought grew, we are constrained by our Mother Tongue to what day it is. Why not rename the days of the week to days that are meaningful to you? Why have the vibration of the language dictate to me what day of the week it is? So many have Monday Blues. This poor day has now been boxed into a vibration of a quality that has nothing to do with the fact that the Sun has risen on another beautiful day of your life. Even the names of our emotions do not really explain what is moving through you. The expanded thought to this is how about living a day without language, challenging every word that we utter – WILD! 

How about renaming everything that passes through you! How about renaming the hours of your day, making time for everything that is you, hours for Joy, hours for sorrow, hours for you... or better still, just allowing what is moving through you to be what it is.

The power of words, are sparks, flames, trails of energy that leave your body. See this… picture it. So you are weaving your person, all the hours of your life, by the freedom or constraint of your language about yourself.

Happy Joyday to you dear ones… tomorrow is Breathday, following are Graceday,Gratiday,Wowday,Prayerday and Funday  and right now is my breathhour… 

Cover light years, while standing still.

Sit with me a while, here on the beach. And just be Conscious. See the ocean, watch the white caps and rolling waves, then dip below the surface and feel the movement of the deeper currents, slip deeper still and see how it all mixes and flows. Go deeper, until you are at the bottom where there is absoluteness a deep space of things you might not have seen but its silent…and it IS and it IS part of the choppy ocean above.  

These are the layers of your heart. The wise person knows that when something significantly uncomfortable happens you do not move on. Instead, by going within deeply you will cover light years, while standing still.

Out of this arises a great thing, you can begin to practice a Buddhist philosophy that makes so much sense to me.  By having compassion for yourself first, you may begin to do the same for others. This is called the practice of Tonglen. Another wiser one that me that has alerted this to me write so eloquently on this here:

http://www.shambhala.org/teachers/pema/tonglen1.php

And you will find that in this process many of the same things get revisited, at a different level each time. Sadness and Joy are not inert emotions, they are both so vast and have richness and learning in both of them. And yes some things you might never get to the bottom of and some Joy does not have a word or an expression. But at least, you have sat still here beside me, and begun a still journey. 

The night sky is a scattering of seeds of light.

I refer to another blog of mine written two months ago “My Internal Space Another Country”. Where my last words were “I have been heard” and have I! The power of “imageneering” and being the architect of your own world by using feelings and clear visualisation is staggering. I have brought to me exactly what I wanted… Views from a Mountain across the ocean in a wild place. Perched on stilts in my wooden cottage I feel like a Queen.

I found myself growing down today as I tramped the mountain hopping from one rock to another. When the night began to fall, and the chill that began sinking into me, I grudgingly went back home. I became aware of the very same feeling of being called in for the night when I was a child. That lovely memory of feeling free and loving this world as a child, and wanting as much of it as I can, had me smiling.

I have marvelled at the rock formations here. Sculpture that only mother earth can create – and of how very tiny I am actually. Scarborough mountains, and most of the region were once beneath the sea. The pock marked rounded eddies of water erosion is evident everywhere. It is also so still…I have spotted fynbos and grasses that I have never seen, and fat black shiny lizards common to this region are abound.

As evening set in, I glanced above me and gasped - the night sky was a clear scattering of seeds of light.

I might have found home…