Let me tell you
how the small things you do
are beautiful.
Let me show you this mirror,
let you reach for it in wonder.
This shine belongs to you,
do you see?
Do you see?
Yes,
you see.
Tag: Self worth
I feel the truth
only because of the false.
A seeing
beyond the faces of clowns.
Play rolled in fear,
don’t you see
the squeaky carousel?
They feel the brittle bones
of life gone by
and bleed again,
but only if they see.
No.
They won’t see,
they don’t want to see.
Be anyone but the truth,
they whisper.
Be anyone
but me.
I’ve come to realise that creativity is just the art and flow of being yourself. There’s really not a lot more to it than that.
At its core, creativity seems to be made of the absolute depth of who we are. And the depth of who we are is always waiting, somewhere beneath the surface, to be shared in its most resonant form. (I believe this is true for every human being. Not just those who are considered creative types.)
For me, the purest form my creativity takes is music. My voice, in particular, seems an extension of the calming, soothing essence that naturally seems to spill from the deep, internal parts of me…and so my music always does seem to reappear in my life, no matter how far I stray from it.
For a lot of years I judged myself (my voice, my performance capabilities) based on what others were doing with their own musical talents. Somewhere in my teen years I grabbed a hold of the idea that, although my talent was constantly being validated, I didn’t have a voice that could compare to a real singer. According to young human me, real singers had a range that reached far beyond the heights that my limited range could. Real singers were perfect, never to stray a note in pitch at all.
How sweet it is to have found the most beautiful new gift of evolved perspective when it comes to my music: that being…my music is my essence. Unique and beautiful, and only mine, never to be compared to any other. My voice and my music are here to achieve their own purpose. And this purpose has nothing to do with an out of this world range or perfectly crafted technique.
There may be singers who use a wider range of skills to express their musical essence in order to thrill…but to thrill is not what I am here for. I am here to express the depths of my heart. I am here to heal with my voice and perhaps to bring peace, calm and emotion to those who connect with my music, writing and creativity. How beautiful, to finally come to know this of myself.
And so I continue to release my musical essence as it is.
No more excuses.
No more foolish voice within trying to compare my musical self with others.
They are all beautiful fruits to be savoured and cherished in the fruit bowl of musical life. I am a different fruit, who finally understands that apples and oranges never will compare.
Categories
Choosing Better
The darkness of life is a wonderful teacher.
I’ve been there a time or two,
and now I say, ‘no’.
Lovingly,
with fire and ice,
I say no.
No, thank you.
No. Thank you,
no more.
Such a lovely relief,
the roaring breath of certainty.
The trust of a self who deserves better
than they have given.
My worth is here to stay.
My love is mine to give,
not theirs to take, and take
and take.
Let others play in the dark rooms of maddening life.
Let this girl fly,
a darling wonder,
into the sun beyond it all.
Safe.
Loved.
And perfectly capable of asking for love,
respect
and home.
Home.
How beautiful it feels
to finally tell them I am home.
Categories
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.
In a world of fire, I am the stream.
Peace.
My heart wants nothing more, my soul wants nothing less.
I am tired.
So tired of the saddest story: well meaning fighters, fighting for good, creating the worst kind of bad.
I am tired.
Of the battle.
I do not need you to fight for me,
and they do not need you to fight for them
because those of us who have been broken are the wisest of souls.
We do not need to be saved.
We need peace.
We all need
peace.
War is what we have.
For now.
Categories
Isn’t It Funny
Isn’t it funny
that for a moment
you forgot how wonderful you are.
Sweet, dancing sunshine.
Isn’t it funny.
Categories
Permission
The song of this heart
sings
without
permission.
I am a wildfire.
Where the flames fan wide
and the blue ripples split
the deep orange stream.
I cannot control what is wild and free.
I cannot control
a wildfire
like me.
Categories
Tomorrow’s Sweet Sun
How sweet it is, dear life.
To choose better, without handing a cup of pain to another.
To know my worth and to ask equal to its value without hesitation: a true gift from the whirling, twirling invisible world of all.
I have a choice, is what life has shown me. To kindly and carefully choose a brighter day. To say thank you but no, this does not work for me.
To seek compromise fairly
or else
gracefully capture
tomorrow’s sweet sun.
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