Categories
Life

Culture

Sometimes I wish I had been born of another culture, a culture of eyes wide open, a culture of hearts wide open.

They say to resist ‘what is’ is to cause your own suffering. Am I suffering? No. But I certainly do ask the question: what if?

Would I be further along in my life journey if, as a child, my sensitivity had been celebrated by my culture, rather than shunned? Would I have saved myself years of healing from the innocent unconsciousness of those around me? Because of a rigid cultural narrative, those who have loved me have accidentally hurt me. I shudder to remember those who have held me in their lives as an insignificant supporting character.

I hope humanity soon understands that the world they see is a choice, rather than a given. I hope the beautiful little soft girls of the world are one day celebrated for the depth and gorgeous attention to detail they bring the world. How shameful that they haven’t been, thus far.

Am I angry that I was brought up starved of female role models? Am I angry that not even my Mother knew how to teach me to truly grow into womanhood? How could she? All she knew was what the western world was. Hardened. Money hungry. Black and white.

There is an aspect of me that is angry. But a bigger part of me understands. There is no one to be angry with. We have all been brought up in boxes. Every single one of us, and when you’re inside of a box (we call them cultures) you truly cannot see there is another way. Another way to see, another way to be. And if you cannot see or be, you cannot teach. You cannot change.

I hope enough eyes are opening, now, to the beauty of individuality.

I hope enough hearts are ready to be free.

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Categories
Life

Together

I have known a life and more.

I have tasted shame,

I have found my way

on the dark and dreary road.

I am you,

and you are me.

Together,

we are human.

Together we are home.

Categories
Poetry

I Am There

Here on this hillside,

this sweet patch of earth,

I have become.

And there is no further to go,

there are no wings to grow,

I am there.

I am there.

Categories
Poetry

Darling World

Sleep tight, darling world.

How lovely and alive you will be tomorrow.

Categories
Life

Cereal And Life

The oddities of humanity. The neuroses that so often become us that really have nothing to do with who we are, at all, or what’s best for our health, wellbeing and growth.

Take breakfast, for example.

My body doesn’t know that breakfast is a man-made occasion, and yet, still, I choose to feed it specific foods such as toast, cereal, orange juice or coffee at the very time it expects to find them in my life. The morning.

My body, I’m fairly certain, just needs food. To be nourished. It doesn’t care if what I eat in the morning is not, what I might consider, ‘breakfast food’. Only the odd little whisper of my brain cares about that. Should I listen? Or should I challenge what it has to say?

It’s not just cultural expectations around breakfast that rouse me. For too many years, I allowed the cultural narrative of suppressing emotional vulnerability to rule my choices, and, as a consequence, I lost the ability to live with my heart. Goodness gracious me. My precious life moments. Potential soul singing moments, destroyed because I succumbed to a life story that, ultimately, had nothing to do with the truth of who I am.

I have no regrets. Every wrong turn has brought me to this place of strength, wholeness and home, and I am grateful for the rocky roads I’ve travelled thus far. How could I be anything but grateful for the ways it has all helped to shape and expand my perspective?

Life. How it has me in awe.

Over and over, again.

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Categories
Poetry

Unleash

It’s time

to unleash

my soul.

Categories
Poetry

The Eyes Of Others

She is the golden skin

by lamplight.

She is not the beauty

they see

in her face,

her eyes,

her hair.

She is glorious

alone.

Without the eyes of others.

Categories
Poetry

Soul Song

My

soul

knows

this

song.

Categories
Writing

Purpose

I’ve tried all the angles. I’ve felt all the rights and wrongs about what they say a writer should do, should be, should want…but I’m not like them.

I want barely any of what they tell me I should want.

To write from my heart, that is what I want.

To touch other hearts, I want that, too.

To shine so that others might know what it is like to shine on the other end of my words: I want that, more than anything else. Life is for dreaming and being the sweet dreams that we are.

I’ve tried to write for money: it leaves me empty.

I’ve tried to write any old thing: it leaves me tired, frustrated, hungry.

To share the depths of my soul is what I am here to do.

To connect with others at the level of the heart.

I want that.

I want that.

Photo by Min An on Pexels.com

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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