Categories
Life

A Mysterious Animating Force

The sweet divinity that lingers at the edge of life.

Writers and artists know it well. Actors and musicians feel it within their bodies. And none of us have any clue as to what it is. Not even those who believe, beyond a doubt, that they do know the source of this most beautiful, magical wind.

To understand this force would surely be like bottling and dissecting infinity. How could you bottle a never ending force like that? More to the point, how could you ever truly understand what it was or where it had come from? I just don’t think it would be humanly possible.

I read a book a little while ago, by Sue Monk Kidd, named ‘The Book of Longings’. I’ve been re reading it, and last night I couldn’t help but smile as I came across a familiar idea. The invisible divinity. She mentions it in the book, and right away I knew I had to share it with you all. Surely as readers and writers, both, you have felt this invisible magic. How beautiful it is to know we are not alone in our recognition of it.

The act itself of writing evoked powers, often divine, but often unstable that entered the letters and sent a mysterious animating force rippling through the ink.

Sue Monk Kidd. The Book Of Longings

At University, I studied writing. One of the units I studied was called, ‘Writing: Finding your Voice’ but the thing was…it never seemed as simple as that, to me. That we each have a ‘voice’ we can use to write with in a unique and beautiful way, or that one could simply ‘find’ this voice. Like finding a tennis ball beneath a shrubby, weedy bush in the desert.

All I can say about this mysterious voice is that I feel its magic arise when I relax my entire body and stop thinking. I’ve heard the phrase thrown about that, to evoke the force, we need to ‘get out of our own way’. To me, this is both entirely accurate and also impossible to comprehend.

Just whose way are we getting out of exactly?

And what, exactly, is the mysterious animating force behind it all?

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Categories
Life

All I Am

How lovely it is

to find home again.

In this home

I am what I am,

and what I am

is a river,

a rock,

a lion,

a ballerina.

What I am

is all I am.

All I am

is all there ever was.

All I am

is all

I am.

Categories
Poetry

Only And Always

The wind cannot be caught.

It cannot be moulded to perfection,

scraped and gutted

and made to be something other than

what it is.

The wind is only, and always, the wind.

And you

are only

and always

you.

Flow as you will.

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Categories
Poetry

I See Me

The soft girl whispers in my ear.

I drift each cushion to the foot of the bed and carefully place it off to the side, as if it were made of precious, gold leaf.

I peel back the doona; the sight of a crisp sheet peeking out beyond its triangular puff will never cease to satisfy.

The world runs fast.

I run slow. Smooth. Deep.

Just the way I was made to run.

I see the pace of the world, I do not choose it.

I see me, now.

I choose me, now.

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Categories
Poetry

Somewhere

Somewhere between the quiet

and the haze, I go

to sit for a while.

Somewhere

between the quiet

and the haze.

And you might ask me

what I hope to find there.

You might ask me if it’s true.

That the haze shimmers like a thousand suns,

and the quiet melts like vanilla cream

on apple pie, oh, sweet love.

I would tell you

you must seek for yourself

the whispers, true.

Somewhere between the quiet and the haze

you must go.

Categories
Poetry

Emerald Sweet

I breathe

but I can’t feel you.

I soften but creation does not flow.

Am I stuck?

Or do I just think

I am stuck

because I am not flying

through raw wisps of forestland?

It is my choice to be there,

drifting in the emerald sweet.

Where I am meant to be.

Where I will always be in my mind.

And my heart.

Categories
Life

The Soft Girl Snooze

I like to pop in every day, if I can. Often there are days that I miss, and today was going to be one of them. I’m just a bit tired, today. The only me I have available to give is a little ‘hello, I hope you’re all doing okay.’

It frustrates me when the Soft Girl is out of action (for those of my bloggy family who are new, the Soft Girl is what I call my intuition/connection to self/connection to my creativity).

That beautiful wind feels ridiculously lovely as it moves through me, and the results of the Soft Girl’s blissful energy in motion are often just as lovely. So I’m missing her, today. She’s having a little snooze, and that’s okay. ☺️

Anyway, so much love bloggy friends. Hopefully I’ll be back with a little more in the tank, tomorrow. xx

Categories
Poetry

For Love

People call them

boundaries.

I just call them walls.

To keep the love in.

Or out.

I could use a boundary

or two.

But what would I be

if it wasn’t for love?

What would I be

if it wasn’t

for love?

Categories
Life

Free

Have you ever stood in an angry ocean and fought to keep your balance?

Have you ever been out walking in a gale and desperately tried to continue walking in a straight line?

Have you ever mowed the lawn and realised the hills in the backyard were absolutely not made for lawn mowers (more specifically, humans with little patience, with lawn mowers.)

Opposition everywhere. Challenges of control, everywhere.

Why did you fight what was, do you think, rather than going in the direction the opposing force was taking you?

How did it feel when you were fighting?

There was resistance in the body and the mind, wasn’t there. Your muscles were tensing, and your mind was fighting the natural way of things because your mind told you that the ‘right’ way was for ‘you’ to remain in control.

Your mind told you that you were the centre of the universe, in those moments, didn’t it. That if the force wasn’t with you, it was against you, and omg how dare it be against you. (cue anger, frustration, pain, and probably all the f*#@s.)

We’ve all been surviving for so very long in a way that goes against the natural way of things. Who could blame us for fighting, though, when we haven’t even been aware of the whole earth/universe/human connection thing.

We say things like ‘go with the flow’ because we hear that sort of thing in childhood, but no one really explained what it meant, because no one really thought about it for too long. Go with the flow? But what does that even mean?

No one knew. Until they finally did.

Until they had no choice but to surrender to the ocean that was. Until they’d stood against the windy backdrop of life, been knocked off their feet, and realised, finally, that there was no point in fighting for control of the ocean, the sky, the sun, the rain.

Or, you know, the back lawn.

Over the past twenty four hours, the universe has taught me a lesson that’s been in the making for a lifetime (I’m 37, lol, how dramatic am I?) and even though I’ll go back to being the forgetful muffin I was yesterday, today I see the lesson and I know the truth of it down to my bones.

It feels much nicer to become the wind that blows you, rather than to resist the flow of what just is. However frustrating the wind, the sea, the back lawn. It just is. And if it was going to be any other way…it would be.

Today, I saw the ocean I’ve been battling, the one that’s tossed me around for so, so, so long. My first instinct was to fight it. Instead, I became aware of the wave, and then I became it. I let go of what if, and I surrendered to what is.

And though it meant that ‘I’ wouldn’t be getting ‘my’ way…I somehow knew there was no point in fighting the natural way of things.

So I just didn’t.

man walking on beach
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Categories
Inspiration

Season’s End

It was a season kissed with pastel colours

and peach-scented days.

But even the most beautiful seasons

come to an end.

Permission to breathe, sweet human-flower.

Permission to fall and rise again.

person holding smartphone riding airplane
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