Categories
Healing

Healing Pieces

They were tears like rain. The sort of rain that brings your soul to life as you feel it hard and cold on your skin. Refreshing. Beautiful and nourishing, were those plentiful tears of mine.

I was meditating. It was early afternoon and the baby was sleeping. I’d set the intention to heal my heart, and to clear whatever stuck energy might be blocking me from achieving my highest purpose in life.

I still don’t know what the exact blockages were/are.

But I know that by the end of the meditation, I understood why several of the most heartbreaking things that have happened in my life had to happen. And that they had to happen so that not only I would grow in love, but also, so that others might grow in love, too.

Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard? Firstly that this sort of divine intelligence lies within the very skin we wear. But also, that even the bad things in life serve their specific purposes for the good of universal evolution.

Of course, I could have been making it all up.

Of course I could have been.

But the tears that smashed down my neck and the knowing smile that lit my whole being told me otherwise.

We are a tapestry. Not one of us leaves the quilt without touching another.

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Categories
Life

Chamomile

The word sipping is very pretty, isn’t it? Delicate, like the action it shows. I can see a small pair of hands, a little tea cup beside a little light. And I know it is home.

I know it is me.

I’m sipping chamomile tea and wishing to be held like this more often. Wishing to be seen in the softness, wishing to share it and have others agree it is a beautiful softness we feel.

Tea is like that. Delicate, like the first breeze of spring, like the bunnies that graze by the river, in the evening. It sounds like a fairy tale, doesn’t it? An unreal imagining, only it’s true.

And so, so beautiful as the delicate rolls all around me.

I have been struggling more than usual over the past few months. Missing the beautiful flow I found a while back, and yet also feeling the embers of momentum begin to burn within me once more.

I wake each morning at 6 and I meditate, followed by yoga if I can fit it in. This is holding myself and my family as best as I can, with love.

I’m proud of myself for giving myself and my family these gifts.

If only a beautiful sun would light the rest of my world, so I could see clearly the path ahead. I forget myself so easily. What I love. Who I am. Each step is as sure as it should be. Why is it I continue to search for relief on the horizon?

I am home.

Let me stay here.

Let me fall into this beautiful sweet depth, forever.

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Categories
Poetry

She Remembers

How my soul asks to be held.

How she breathes

the cotton thoughts of yesterday

through the trees

as she remembers.

Categories
Life

For The Birds

The birds are home and so am I.

I could say they are noisy, but they are not really noisy. They are only noisy if I think of them in relation to my world.

On their own, they are just who and what they are.

Birds.

Chirping, squawking birds.

I’ve deleted another of my posts (those of you who have been around for a while will know I have done this, from time to time) because the energy of the post didn’t feel like my truth.

It felt like the underside of my world. It felt like the dark parts of me, not my sunshine.

I choose only to shine on this world, when I can help it.

In the post I deleted, I spoke of scammers and manipulation, and where I have felt victimised as a woman in the past. These pains, I know, are real, and they will live within me and walk beside me in everything I do.

But they are not who I am. And the ways I have been victimised are not the people who have hurt me, either.

I see those who have bullied me, taken advantage of me, used or abused me, but I see the pain within them more. They have been small children, hurt by something in life, desperate to cover that pain with a bandaid.

Who am I to blame them when I am the bearer of the very same wounds that scar them?

I will try for the birds, to allow them to be.

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Categories
Poetry

Energy

Energy speaks

truer

than words.

Categories
Poetry

Sadness in The Corner

There is sadness in the corner.

A beautiful sadness that calls to me, many a day, and I can’t help but follow. I can’t help but wonder why.

When life is ever so dear, and joy is found sweetly in the eyes of the ones I love, why is the sadness in the corner? When the rest of the room is flooded with colour; the corner.

Why is it aching, why is it grey?

Whole and beautiful life is here,

but the corner.

Why is there sadness in the corner?

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Categories
Poetry

Rain

Today, there is rain.

And the most beautiful peace.

Categories
Poetry

Happy One

There is a tear in my soul.

They want me to smile,

all the time, they want me to be fine,

this world.

But I am not

(though I am.)

There is a weeping tear.

A wound unhealed and breaking

ever deeper,

every day.

I will tell you this:

I am fine.

And I am,

six colours of the rainbow, fine.

The seventh colour.

It is a golden tar.

An aching soul,

searching.

An aching child

within the hardened walls

of a happy one.

Photo by Khoa Vu00f5 on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Seasons

And when there is sun

such as this,

and when there is beautiful drift

and swaying trees,

I see life as it is

and I know it is good.

For, the mind, I know

tells stories.

And yet

perfect truth

is this touch of fresh air.

Just another season.

Another precious season

of darling life.

Categories
Poetry

Careless Life

Do not touch this softness.

I see you

angrily tearing at her bones,

leave her be.

Dear sweet, peaceful girl.

For she must rest,

she is weary,

must rest, she has been

battered and bruised

by the tentacles of careless,

careless life!