Tag: The universe

Categories
Life

Freud

I’m about to sit down and snuggle with one of my Christmas presents. It is a book by Sigmund Freud called ‘The Interpretation of Dreams.’ I’d imagine it will hand me another key to my perception of reality, which I’m so looking forward to.

I love that sort of thing. Pondering the universe and the nature of reality. A lovely friend of mine calls me a ‘contemplative mystic’, and I quite like that term, actually, when it comes to the parts of me that like to wonder.

I have been wondering all my life. It’s a beautifully rich way to be, and I know it’s where I truly belong in the world. Swimming the deepest oceans, stirring up the kelp and sand.

When I contemplate, when I analyse people, I tend to analyse them energetically more than anything. Most people likely look at a person and wonder who they are. I look at a person, and tend to know who they are already, to a degree. They feel a certain way to me. Some people feel safe.

Some people feel unsafe.

I tend to think those must have been the ones among us who haven’t had the nicest lives.

I’m a big believer in the theory of a unified field of energy connecting us all. That we are this field. All of us. Energy at the core, connected simply because there is nothing to seperate massive clouds of energy, when you really think about it. Quantum physics, and this unified field theory explains, for instance, why so many of us ‘resonate’ so deeply with the exact same ideas in life.

It’s all really fascinating to me, especially as a creative who feels the energy of my creativity move within my body as I create.

Fascinating. Wondrous. Magic.

Can’t wait to read this. xx

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Categories
Life

The Beautiful Things

There are days when the wind blows my feelings in storms over the sea of life, and on these days my old friend fear rows back to me and makes himself known. Do you need me, he says, can I hold you a little longer, he says.

On those days, I am human. On those days I worry and I cry and I tense up, thinking I might have lost something precious that once held me perfectly. Thinking, oh no. What if my life tumbles into bits and pieces, again?

Then there are the moments that shine like a diamond struck directly by the suns brightest ray. Moments of Devine breath. Like the other day, for instance, in the garden. The silent whispers were there again, and not in some imaginative fairy world kind of way. In a very real feeling kind of way.

Somehow (and you all know by now that I am completely clueless as to the how and the why of these sorts of things) there was communication happening between my heart and the earth. The weeds for heaven sake, weeds I once would have gritted my teeth at and angrily resented. They were silently singing. I couldn’t help but love them dearly.

Have you ever looked into someones eyes and felt they were speaking to you without words? If you’ve been in love before, it’s certain that you have. This kind of energetic communication happens between man and nature, too, apparently, and I am the first to say how surprised I am about this glorious darling of a thing.

And it is glorious. My goodness, it is.

There is no human language to describe a Devine beauty such as mans union with nature, but I truly hope that if you’ve not yet known this depth of beauty in your life, you one day will.

If not, I have been here, giving you my words and my heart, hoping they have been enough.

No one should leave this planet without going to this lovely place within themselves.

And so it is I send my wish out for all the world to find their way.

And so it is I am grateful.

I have found heaven at home.

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Peaches In The Darling Sun

Ugly, Horrible, Beautiful

Through pain, love and connection can be found.

Through misstep, the sweet path forward can be carved and tread.

I remind myself, often, that mistakes are beautiful. Contrast to what is ‘right’ brings truth to those who allow themselves to see their imperfections. It is okay to be vulnerable.

It is okay to fail.

It is necessary to fail in order to gain perspective.

I have a bad habit of getting down on myself and my imperfections, and yet I also sit here with eyes wide open. I see that every mistake was perfect. Every dark moment, shimmering with light.

Life is ugly, horrible, beautiful.

Life is mine, and yours, and ours.

I ache with gratefulness.

I ache with it.

Photo by James Wheeler on Pexels.com
Day 22. Everything is beautiful
Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

The Ocean

It never ceases to amaze,

the ocean of life;

how wide it must be.

If I can see but one river

from this, my dainty hill.

One glimpse of time,

one slice of space,

what else must the ocean be?

Day Five. How lovely it is to wonder.
Categories
Life

Words Are Not BIG Enough

The room glowed orange. And LOVE. A wooden carving of the word sat against the wall in my room, opposite my meditation cushion, on top of a painting of my favourite tree (the letters light up if I really want them to. I very rarely want them to.)

I’ve become increasingly frustrated with words and their inability to capture and express the absolute truth of the concepts they frame. Love is one of the best examples of that, for me.

Love, for instance, is on a spectrum, for starters. There are differing types of love, differing levels of depth, differing levels of understanding of it as a concept, differing levels of experience with it.

And here is the problem I have: LOVE, the word, is far too small.

It is too small to capture

and hold

the vast ocean

that love

truly

is

to me.

So I get a little frustrated.

Words, in general, are a little frustrating to me, because even people we share a language with will never know the exact meaning of a word according to our perception and expression of it.

An example. I experienced the most profound moment the other day, when discussing some things with my beautiful, spiritual counsellor. She is trying to help me work through some of my energy blocks, at the moment, but as we discussed a particular topic I found myself fumbling. I knew exactly why.

Words. They were vastly limiting us in a few ways: one way being our different perception of particular words (it seemed we weren’t quite on the same page). Another being the energy beneath the concept I was trying to express. The whole thing seemed far bigger than any means of communication we had in our toolbox to discuss it with. It was as if we were trying to catch a whale with a plastic fishing rod. It was just never going to happen.

I even said to her that I felt so frustrated because I couldn’t possibly express the depth of what I was trying to convey to her in words. This was a feeling. But it was also something so much more than a feeling.

I don’t need to capture the entire universe and express it in form. But if I did…words couldn’t possibly reach the heights I’d need to climb to pick that apple.

I wonder if there is any human tool that could.

I wonder a lot of things, actually.

Perhaps I’ll keep wondering.

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Categories
Life

14 Days

It has been fourteen days and the wind has brought me here.

What happened was quite accidental (but then, is anything ever accidental in the universe?) Rather than my plan expiring as I thought it was going to (for reasons long and complicated) it has rolled over for another year.

For a moment, when the ghastly realisation was made, I thought to approach wordpress and tell them, ‘Thank you, but I’m done, here.’

I never did do that. I never did pick up the phone.

I put this down to orders of the wind. The sway of the universe whispering me to stay just a little while longer. So, here I am, writing these words–half wondering why, half quite sure that there is nowhere else I’d rather be.

Why is it that there are so many segments of us, and why is it that not all segments of us want equally?

Some pieces of me want to be heard, to be known, to be understood and validated by like minded souls who feel a little like they’re swimming around in the ever spinning washing machine of life. Other parts of me want to hide. To never be seen. To only be known by the quiet that surrounds me, the quiet that I am.

I know I must write to experience myself truly.

I know I must create in order to find home.

What else do I know?

I know I’ll always be asking questions that make me feel a little lonely.

I know I’ll always think I know the answers until I, once and for all, understand that there is no one answer. Only the next question, the next step, the next choice.

The wind has brought me here.

And here, in this moment, I am.

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Categories
Poetry

Magical Questions

Where do thoughts go

once we have thought them?

Where does the wind go

once the storm has passed?

And why do so few wonder about life,

why do they not ask more

magical questions?

Like where do thoughts go?

(And the wind: are they together, somewhere?)

And how is it that these words

came to be called

words

when there is surely

a deeper dimension to language

and life

that will never be captured

by labels

and concepts.

Categories
Poetry

The Web

It is beautiful,

I think,

to be a very small thread

on the web of it all.

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Categories
Poetry

Meant To Be

The great news is this.

If I am here,

there is nowhere else

I’m meant to be.

Categories
The Darling Blog Of May

Darling Day 22. Eternity

Darling is how I feel eternity, soft in its gentle, drifting wind.

Their unspoken words ask me how I know them so well— how I can feel the softness of them— and I don’t know what to tell them, but to say that I just know the softness in their eye…is my own.

There is nothing between us, but the way we run, the way our bodies are fueled by different people and places and days.

Different moments, different hours of truth;

of lies;

of broken glass;

of peaceful moon.

I know that we are the same, because I feel them in eternity. All of them, dwelling in the place music swells and overflows, whispering to the world of tender days gone by.

Fear flashes in their eyes when I reach their walls and search for a ladder to climb. But what is to fear of a small human puff of sun? It is only a glimpse of the beautiful garden of us I am seeking.

How I long for their walls to tumble—for my own walls to crumble. To shriek and groan and crash to the ground, in a celebratory burst of:

I remember you.

Darling flower, wonderful and strange.

I remember you.