My Internal Space Another Country

My Internal Space Another Country

Softly I shall leave this space that has cradled me for seven months now. I walked my gratitude yesterday, and stood looking out across the bay and clearly asked for a return. How I have been cradled so well by my Mother here. My internal space another country from my arrival here. In between my thanks tears, pouring, not out of sadness, but out of the sheer gratitude of grace. Grace, that soft feathered thing soft against the soul.

I know that somehow I will return to this particular space within the month, and be in a home space even more glorious. I know. How do I know this? Yesterday whilst walking, I heard the Fish Eagle call.  I stopped and silently asked for me to see them instead of hear them before I leave. And today above my home space, I heard them call. And there, circling with some cheeky crows, they cried that call so well known, as they flew higher and higher.

A simple request from heart space has been granted. My big request came from the same space. I have asked for a home space, where I may be for much, much longer, this is something that I have been calling in for a few months now, speaking to the land and all the creatures.

And I have been heard, by Grace...

Sometimes simple stories that state the obvious, are all that need to be said.

I have been in such a melancholic state today, an uncomfortable feeling. Perhaps I am feeling the collective sadness of most people I know. I watched the sun slip, felt the shiver of the day silently vanishing. 

There are three things in life that people desire, this is health, wealth and love. Each of these things could whisper in and out of our lives like moths. Sometimes they are like bees and produce honey, other times they decay like the leaves at summers end. The change that we so struggle with, flits towards us whether want it or not. And here I sit with tears at all the changes. Tears of gratitude because of all the goodness, can be mixed with sadness of things that are slipping away.

I reflect on all that I love, from planet to people…

It is true that the only thing that really remains is love. What we do for love, how we made love to world, how love shone from our hearts, who we love. I will sleep tonight and awaken to a different world, I will continue changing. We are not the same people we were a few days ago. Our internal stories keep altering, and only we know what is written in each of our hearts. No one really knows you.

Do yourself a favour, tell someone your story, tell someone who will listen. You will be surprised at how little you know of yourself really. But begin somewhere.This exercise will open so much inside you that you will begin a journey that you have already taken all over again.  Only you can know yourself. And that in itself is a triumph, the triumph of living – knowing yourself sufficiently to want to alter and perceived shadows, embracing them enough so that through love, they may transform.  

Walk lightly with yourself...

I see the Sky take a breath and exhale the Milky Way…

The Night Sky. Being away, from the lights of the City at a Retreat space (Bodhi Kaya) I am in awe. Standing beside my Beloved, I gaze at the three dimensionality of the stars. I had forgotten there are so many. Thousands of pin pricks of light, gleaming. How can my soul not be moved? I stand mesmerised, transported back millions of the years… I see the Sky take a breath and exhale the Milky Way…

And slowly I return to the here and now. and humbly I stand light years away, knowing that I am the stuff of stars. It is like gazing at my brothers and sisters of light that are no different than me other than their current formation. Maybe one day when I leave I will be one, not such a bad thought. I hope at least that I will remain in some hearts as brightly as these ones above me. 

All for nothing? All for Everything? Sometimes I know the answer, but right now it’s a mystery…

All for nothing? All for Everything? Sometimes I know the answer, but right now it’s a mystery…

The softness of the day seeps into my soul and a great welling of compassion and love for all my fellow humans passes through me. I was driving to the Library, to obtain my stock of free food. I watched the people thronging, it’s a Saturday, the only time so many get to do the edges and necessities of life. I saw an awkward teen boy with a wild winter hat, all arms and legs, an old woman swiftly shuffling, a woman with a young child being dragged, her pigtails defiantly at right angles.

I thought of the workers, cleaners, packers, vendors, CEO, stockbrokers, mothers… how they work. To feed clothe and keep this spark called Life moving. A tear coursed down my cheek out of compassion, deep love simply because it is this way. And the enlightened ones that mark the homeless ones, how each of us has returned to be something that is essential to this planet. No one person here by accident. The people in the car next to me all with some purpose for their day.

By the time I got to the library I had mascara tracks on my cheeks, and had to find a tissue (used in my handbag) to wipe away my humanity. I entered the soft smell, books decaying as we do. Walked amongst the shelves, needing to gain focus to look for sustenance I did not know that I would be taking home. As always the title sprung out and formed verses of poems, phrases all to be forgotten by the time I got home. (I think a notebook with next time might be a good idea) Wondering all the time if there was anyone else in this room of books that saw what I saw. And if they saw a grey haired one with her bold scarf wistfully going about her seeking, or if I was invisible.

And now my lunch eaten (Smash, too lazy to make something) rain leaving gems. Agnes Obel in my ears, I simply sit, recall my morning and wonder… All for nothing? All for Everything? Sometimes I know the answer, but right now it’s a mystery…

New Moon descent, through Persephone’s gate, pomegranates long seeded, my return always my choice

New Moon descent, through Persephone’s gate, pomegranates long seeded, my return always my choice

I am very aware of the moon phases, my journey into alternative ancient ways of thinking began with Wicca as a teen. And the deep instinct of a Woman to follow her 28 days of fruitfulness or not is deeply followed. The twist that I have always had, is that it’s on the waning of the moon, as she becomes darker that I, in my own cycle am the most creative.

I have this urge to paint, sing, dance and be OTHER when the moon changes her showing face from a bowl, to a fingernail to nothing at all. This is when I shift, don ravens cloak, feel the shift of wings on my back or slide into serpents close hugging of the earth’s skin. This is when a cave of dampness with one candle and a few fruits would suffice… I drop, drop, drop into deep meditation and visit spaces that I only know of. Where I know of Samadhi, feel my energy rising subtly, chakras ablaze, certain that if mortal eyes saw me they would see nothing but colour before an alter.

The artefacts that I collect shift with me, tortoise shell, seal skull and teeth, baboons jaw, porcupine quills. Left – over’s, shadows of former beings that walked. This is what I happily descend into with some measure of excitement. Shadow, mine. Is the place where I work deep, where no light other than inner can be seen to dimly find my way into my own psyche. I revel in the music of my heartbeat, soft inhalation of lungs, occasionally feel as if I am about to rise up, a wreathe of incense, coiling with my face. Oh moon when you hide your face, I dance into the shadow with you. This is when I plant my seeds, to reap all my fruits as you slowly show your full beauty again….

Rippling land, muscles beneath the sand moving

Rippling land, muscles beneath the sand moving

I was jogging, feeling my body move, dragon breath in the cold morning. And as it is often with me I become not just me, but animal, this time again a jackal, sure footed four legs, mouth wide running back legs just catching front in full tilt. Muscles rippling along my back, tail an extension of my balance…

The skys have been doing this too, rippling across the land and I can see the muscles of the beach moving, a mist of beach just above the surface leaving the evidence of muscles moving beneath…hard pelting rain freckling the skin. And now I fly over the ocean higher the winds blowing me back, but there is no fear, just a surrender has I close my eyes and drift with the power of the Sky always upholding me.

Aah wondrous Gaia, how I love you and know why I keep returning – I love you my Mother