Categories
Life

Kaleidoscope Life

The rules of love and life.

So much grey, everywhere, all over the place.

Cultural differences. Familial differences. How could you ever say a person is wrong in their beliefs, traditions or values? And what do you do if one person in a relationship is satisfied with the chosen boundaries, and another is left feeling unfulfilled, unsupported, traumatised, even.

What do you do?

One mother may birth a child with the expectation that her job is simply to raise a child to adulthood and set her free when she comes of age. The child has been given life. She will be guided. She will be taught to fend for herself. But a mother is a mother, says the mother. Her boundaries are strict, yet fair, and she has no intention to provide for her child beyond basic care, until she dies. She has provided well, therefore, she has loved.

Another mother may birth a child with the expectation that her job has only just begun, and will never end. She is love, and she will give and give and give, in every way, to this child until her final breaths. She will provide the role of parent. She will provide the role of best friend and confidant. Her boundaries are far and wide: anywhere love lives, she and her daughter will wander, together, always. She has provided, therefore, she has loved.

What is a mother?

It is an individual question.

It is an individual answer.

And it is only one of the question answer combinations of life with no black or white answer to relieve us of conflict and struggle.

The rules of life and love.

There are none.

But there are many.

How easy it is to fight for our right to be right.

How difficult it is to find true peace amidst the chaos of life.

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Categories
Poetry

I Will HoldYou

I will hold your ache in loving arms.

I will be the faith you have lost in the world.

I will shine a light on your breaking heart,

that you may hand stitch the truth

into the fabric of your soul

and know it is safe

to feel.

I will love you.

All the broken you wish not to see,

I will hold you.

I will hold you, love.

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

Someone Is Fighting

Wherever I look,

someone is fighting.

It hurts the softness of me,

this world.

It takes and takes the peace

and I am so afraid to be torn apart

by another day of humanity.

The carnival of dark and dense

dis-ease.

Wherever I look

someone is fighting.

When will enough be enough?

Categories
Poetry

Forever Home

Sorrow is quiet and soft.

How strange, that during the saddest times, the quiet is the loudest voice of all.

Tonight, I send my voice into the stillness.

To honour the love and the sorrow that lingers when we lose our most precious hearts.

Quiet, the place where unconditional love floats free.

Peace. Our soft and gentle, forever home.

Categories
Life

Life, Ever Fragile

The fragility of life can be truly shocking.

There’s a beautiful line from a Sarah Barellies song called, ‘She used to be mine’.

It goes like this:

Sometimes life just slips in through the back door, and carves out a person, and makes you believe it’s all true.

It makes me think of how funny we all are. How we travel along believing we’re very much in control until suddenly we realise…we never were in control. Not ever. At all.

Perhaps we maintain the beautiful illusion of control, quite well, but ultimately when life steps in and presents its aching quiet…all we can do is look at it peacefully and understand: this is.

Life, ever fragile.

Always beautiful.

In fact, it’s the darkness that shows us what light is.

It is our fragility that shows us our strength.

It is our failures that show us the right way forward.

And it is anger, fear, hate that shows us how deeply beautiful surrender is.

How deeply beautiful love is.

Life frightens me, sometimes, but peace is the shining puddle I look for beneath every rainy day.

I feel it, now.

I feel it, now.

Sending sooooo much love, however life may be swaying you, lovely bloggy friends.

Always, so much love, from me.

xx

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Categories
Poetry

Twinkling Silence

Hush.

Here in the silence

that lingers between each star.

Close your eyes,

let the sweet velvet black

hold you.

And you will know

(you will know)

that this is all you need.

The twinkling silence that is you.

This is all you need.

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
Life

Peace

Peace.

It’s soft and it’s cool.

It’s free and it’s flowing.

And quiet. (Good heavens it’s quiet. I close my eyes for that one. Truly. I close my eyes.)

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Peace.

It lives in the candle beside me; within this flame, still and perfect.

I drink tea alone—peace lives there.

And the wind, swaying green beyond the window: it stops me as I wander.

It brings me home.

Peace is the language that brings me home.

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Peace.

It is such a beautiful thing.

And it’s funny. How long it has taken me to see its worth.

That I’ve been looking for it. That, always, it’s been mine.

If only I’d known that I needed it.

I needed it.

Peace. I need it, still.

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Categories
Life

Choosing This

I’ve always looked beyond.

Always searched for the more.

Sometimes I wait for the more,

craving the sweet beauty of tomorrow.

Other times, I wait in fear.

For horrors that may, or may not come.

None of it is real.

None of it is now.

None of it is me…

until it is.

And even when it is,

it is not me.

It is always only life.

Life that has come.

And life that has gone.

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