Bless

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Bless the turns that I made wrong

And bless those right as well

For neither turned out how I’d hoped

Both led me straight to hell

I joke

At least I think I do

As hell can’t be all day

Yet hell can be when hell decides

Or do we have final say?

I’d hope to think we make that call

On how we rule our fate

So bless me on my choices made

And the paths I choose to take

#20 Grateful for Christmas Hangovers

I’m hungover and I don’t drink.

I’m spent and I didn’t over indulge financially this year.

I don’t do cards anymore as the paper waste makes me want to cry and I don’t buy presents for the sake of it as the plastic waste also makes me want to cry. I celebrate with my close family and on Christmas morning we open our gifts and slowly but surely make a nice meal to eat at 3pm, only to end up eating at 5pm. This is the same xmas day formula as most families I’d imagine but this year ours felt low key, intimate and incredibly calm.

Yet, I feel spent. My energies are low and I’m propped up against the pillows on my bed writing this at 1.15 in the afternoon thinking about taking a nap. It took me 30 mins to even open my laptop and even writing this I feel lazy and half arsed about it. Not because I don’t want to write, I just feel zapped (neon pink laser zapped).

I don’t know if this is because 2016 has been a whooper of a year. Personally, politically, emotionally… it’s been a roller coaster. I cannot think of anyone I know who has said to me, ‘wow, 2016 has been such an awesome year!’ I don’t know if any year can be ‘awesome’ throughout but some are certainly more uplifting than others. Thats ok, life isn’t supposed to be peaches and cream all the time. I don’t even like the cream so peaches is enough for me.

I’m spent because although 2016 has been a bitch of a year, it’s been the most powerful too. I’ve felt such a shift… almost like my Saturn return take II. I feel like I’ve spent most of the year crawling across the floor, watching the clock, counting the seconds until I finally stop giving a crap. But this is good! Honestly, what a liberating feeling to suddenly not think about time or discomfort or the slow crawl to places unknown the feel like no-where but really they’re the best places as no-where is everywhere really. Even that makes little sense but I am rolling with the shift right now, even if that means talking gibberish for gibberish sake. Really, what sense do we need to make? That has been the biggest revelation for me this year. That I don’t need to analyse every little thing and that the only moment I need to be in is NOW. No tomorrow, no yesterday, only now.

So now I feel spent and sleepy and I may or may not make it onto the yoga mat after I’ve written this but I am so grateful to be in this moment that feels so reclusive and reflective and makes little sense. This year I have written more than I thought I ever could and have believed in myself enough to share my work. I have taken up drawing and painting, Ok so I’m no master but I smile when I’m drawing and that’s been enough to keep at it.

The new year cycle begins at winter-solstice for me so I don’t celebrate New Year in the traditional sense but due to the holiday season I am able to decompress and meditate as London slows down a little. Breathing feels easier when things around me slow down.

So YES to Christmas emotional hangovers. With contraction comes expansion and I always look forward to how energised I hope to feel tomorrow, or the next day or maybe even next week. I am grateful for the choice to nap, the choice to relax – that I am able to breath through the awkward or crappy feelings, rather than feel I need to do a thousand things at once. Who am I kidding, I could never do a thousand things at once, even thinking about it is making me want to take a nap.

I think I’ll take a nap now 🙂

 

 

From Death

Could it be that I once flew

I spread my wings across oceans blue

Or could I once have slept in trees

And eaten the berries, the ants and the bees

With every breath I feel grasses grow

As waters stream through channels below

 

The bones of me were found in sand

Washed upon shores and carried to land

Sunsets kiss the rocks I’ve called home

Miles I’ve travelled to places unknown

All that I dream, I’ve been there before

I’ve cried many times, familiar to war

Wild are my eyes like the hunting bear

Like the tired boar and the frightened hare

So intricate is the nature of me

I’ll not question who I think I should be

As I am all the wonders of this earth

I am the cycle of life from death to re-birth

I AM SHE

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I am she

The saber-tooth, wounding comfort spots

‘Never think your work is done’

Sinking deeper into prayer

Feathers cleanse and winds whisper

As I call upon the sage

Wisdom coasting exhalations

‘I am she’

Words skim the waters

My core so fierce I bleed

Staining fingers that bribe silence

I burn

Nourishing earth with all I shed

I am linen, woven by the chief of stars

The cloth for inspired strokes

Imaginations willing me into existence

I am she

The deciding note

My howl stirs sleeping pixies

Sparking magic as wings chime

I am the symbol escorting the rain

The dramatic ending

I am she.

 

 

 

No More Talk

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Soft notes

Damming the rush

Patient appreciation

Saves me

Yet still I  wait, hopeful

Forward thinking the expected

But the expected never comes

The train pulls in too late

Or early

Who knows, and will I care when timeless souls greet mine?

Scolding players, we’ve crossed paths

I’ve met many who know better

I’ve known better than many too

But common ground rests where really we know nothing at all

Warm intentions spoken aloud on cold mornings

Disappearing into the fog

So no more talk

To light up is the only way to see

Foraging my own seeds

Lost, yet full of purpose

This may be the most powerful way to live.

All things Beautiful

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And she sang stories in the morning

To herself

As she sat naked on the bed

Rubbing oil into her body

To soften

Soften coarse skin hardened yesterday

And to still prying memories

As they sail the marrow of her shoulders

Her smile, from her mother’s side

Greeted warmly by strangers in winter

And her eyes, of Russian decent

From her father

Untamed and frightened

Wondering why the windows to her soul

Were reminiscent of her father

As two souls could be no further apart

But her voice was hers alone

Wholeness weaving between tones

And she sang stories in the morning

To herself

As she sat naked on the bed

To honour the human made of all things beautiful

And rejoice the unique woman she is

Lonely

I had not known the way to go

To where the lonely feed

For all along the slanted paths

I’d felt no calling need

But now I ache in fallen pits

As lonely do I feel

The nights too long to praise the sun

So moonlight I now steal

And in reflections I can see

A woman breaking time

For walls I’ve built too high to meet

A soul to walk with mine

And in such thoughts I’d pray to move

The cycle that needs be

As what’s to come I know not of

So wait must I to see.