#8 Grateful for Marvellous Mornings


The same sun rises each morning but daily illuminations are always different. No day is ever the same, no emotions stay forever. Morning is the fresh start I crave so much when contracting energies cause me to feel stagnant and stuck. Yet I am never still as the world never stops turning and there has never been one day I’ve not known the dark to brighten with the rising sun.

Today, I feel blessed to watch colours merge in the morning sky. Life flows, continuously. Even a calm body and mind is a busy hive of intuitive activity, the only difference is that when we’re calm we coast the breeze, like a windswept feather, we offer no resistance. This morning I was reminded to enjoy the journey and to never stop being mesmerised by the view.


Maybe we over complicate things

When all we need to know

Is do we choose to say yes

Or do we reply with a no

See we could be in-between

But really we know what to say

And thinking about what we should be deciding

Can take up our whole precious day

And often our wholeness is drained

As power escapes from our toes

So you see it’s the conflict of knowing

That humours our crippling woes

What if?


What if there’s no side to take

No thoughts to break

No roads to travel

Or habits to unravel

No dark to face

Or time in space


And questions die

Before answers lie

And faker’s mould


What if all we saw

We’ve seen before

And the world we know

Above and below

Comes only as we see


No one smells the rose like me

What if we’re only here to feel

We’ve no layers to peel

Feeling weak or strong

Neither lasts for long

Lightening strikes

And sharp tooth bites

They hurt

What if we search too hard

And disregard

The reasons we breathe

As we tightly weave

Stories made up




Imagine rolling around in the mud

Then tumbling down in the mud with a thud

Then swirling the mud with both of your palms

Get it under your nails and all up your arms

You smother your body and laugh as you play

Wonder why you’re not in the mud everyday

There ain’t nothing better than rolling in mud

It’s good for your skin and enriches your blood

So next time you don’t know what you should do

When life get’s you down or your mood turns blue

Go roll in the mud, I promise you this

Once you laugh at the fun you’ll feel nothing but bliss.

Simple Life


Cry when you want to

Scream when frustrations boil, don’t hold in scolding waters but don’t pour over others either.

Dance to get high. Let rhythm be the medicine oozing through your tired veins.

Create, always. Our imperfections mould landscapes.

Don’t search for pain, it will find you when it needs to and like waves against the cliffs, let raw forces erode pieces of you that would rot if they stayed.

Be naked more

Stroke every part of your body because you’re beautiful, even if you don’t believe it, you are.

Find more ways to be your own best friend.

Say no each time your gut tells you and don’t apologise for a decision that’s right for you.

You never need to explain why you deserve to feel happy, you deserve it because you’re alive.

Love yourself as much as you can and each day you’ll find more to love.

It’s that simple.


I’ve No Earth in my Astro Chart…


I rarely feel grounded and have spent 85% of my time staring, thinking, pondering, observing, mystified by everyday magic (with little grounding, everything possesses an ethereal quality). I have lived life with my ‘head in the clouds’, a phrase I’ve become familiar with growing up. I’d rarely hear the questions I was supposed to answer during the majority of my education and the worlds I’ve created in my head (and boy, there’s been plenty of those) have felt 100% real.

I’m generally floating and that remaining 15% of me not staring into space has been spent trying to cement myself to ‘reality’ but often not my reality, the reality of another wanting me to fit with their perceptions of life. I’ve mainly dated men with tons of Earth in their astro charts so you can imagine how each relationship ended, pretty much the same way… ‘You’re a dreamer’, ‘come back to reality’.

Reality? Who’s reality? I have no freaking clue and I’m floating on a cloud of I-can’t-give-two-craps right now. Often when I’m fretting to figure shit out I just park everything, whatever I’m doing I stop, I’m still. I used to wait but waiting is anticipating, waiting for something and believing we know what may (or may not) be coming is, most of the time, wrong, as we can never really know. Although saying that, I do believe that deep down we know what’s best for our wellbeing, we just don’t often listen. So maybe ignore this paragraph, or don’t… it gets complicated this trying to fathom our existence when you’re using language that’s been constructed and all constructions have their boundaries.

I’ve been hiding away, spending the past year in hibernation. Everything got way too much and I broke. I didn’t really fit, or feel comfortable anywhere so I guess breaking myself up and scattering small pieces down different avenues felt like the only thing to do. Of course that only lasted so long until there was nothing left to give and my feet were well and truly off this earth and venturing someplace alien. Basically, if I didn’t retrieve those pieces back my body and soul (not that they’re separate but for explanations sake, we’ll count the one as two) was gonna pack up. Spiritually I was zapped and physically I was sick. I had no choice but to retreat from the world and focus entirely on healing.

The more I listened to my own language – less words, more feelings – the more I realised I don’t need to be anything other than who I am. I can’t anyway, it’s impossible. I am who I am. I’m not always bad, I’m not always good, I’m me. This is no easy lesson, somedays I want so much to be anyone other than me yet I realise that on those days I need to love ALL of me the most.

I am a dreamer and I love stories and as my imagination continues to roll, these stories ain’t going anywhere. I may as well write them out, even if no-one reads them, the imagination is always gonna play and everything is better out than in.

I also know I have to consciously anchor myself, I have to bring more weight into my core by feeling everything that’s going on inside, (plenty is going on, 24-7 as I’m sure it is for all!) to recognise and acknowledge, not dismiss or fight as I’d previously done before. Finding a spiritual practice has vital for me, yoga has helped me understand my uniqueness and totality, that no part of me is separate from another. Buddhist teachings are resonating so strongly too, although my understandings are still basic, as I’m only a beginner on this epic journey.

So that’s where I’m at now, still foraging a path that suits me, although what I believe suits me often changes in ways beyond my control. Maybe that’s the next lesson, don’t try and build the path, just follow the sound of the birds.

Who knows… who really knows anything?








Brewing from frustrations, bulking out minutes, hours, days with thoughts of ‘fuck this!’ You know the kind, we all know.

Ah but what moments of brilliance it brings, to shatter guarded routine and sever truth from damnation.

How much I love the heat of annoyance plaguing morning disappointments, disappointed about nothing in particular but that’s where brilliance dwells.

Vapours coat such disappointments, handed over are medicinal pills to swallow whole.

Breathe in memorable scents of enough is enough.

Trepidation crumbles, ingenious movements possess us, leading us to countless discoveries.

See, where would we be without ‘Fuck this’?

From stillness, those nights when anxieties sweat onto fresh cottons, those days we imprint disaster before the clouds break and dawn freshens the foulness. How invaluable such moments, as what inventions would have pulsed into existence without common frustrations of the everyday?

Stand to attention!

Called to listen when no longer the mundane tickles our tones, the soundtrack to our life is flippin’, side A to B.

If we behave the way we’re told, goodness, what prisoners we’d be. Prisoners to others caged sentences, paragraphs to mould the wounded, slicing flesh with manipulative intentions.

They may have their intentions but my edges ain’t cut to fit their puzzle, I’ll carve my own.

And how brilliant I feel to cross the line, to show impatience and rip the pretty ribbon.

Frustrations burn too hot to stand ridged.

NOW, it’s time and I’ll dance my way. Shoes tapping noisily, marking pavements with excited skips and lightness of swing.

Yes, the time is now so thank you frustrations for your poker fingers, shuffle the cards and deal me what ya got.

Fuck this, I’m ready for new.




Seeking breaks in double lines

When sense don’t seem to make some

Outward light from shining states

And rowdy hums from rumbling tum


What feels right and what feels wrong

Can’t tell apart what is, is what

Ain’t nothing what I thought I was

And tacky lips turn cold to hot


Double days they treat me as

As best it can, as can as is

Sensing made of crawling change

And flat-lines bubble up to fizz



Day’s flow

Weaving their way into perceptions

Some days I can’t help but force

To ignite a need for outcome, to satisfy

To push against the wall ahead, breaking fingers and scarring knuckles

Day’s ebb

Confined spaces only contract as I grow

Some days, what’s the point?

Our hopes dwindle as the air thickens but we never stop

Atoms swell, caressing our view

And stone fears must be carved into tools

Then we are useful, our use becomes much more than 9-5

And we may follow gravel paths walked before

Recognising our footprints

Knowing all too well

And days link from one to the next

But each brings a new taste, a new scent from buds blossoming

And we learn

We learn that the same may never need be the same again.




My roots grew confused

One half of me foraged to the left, seeking distance, finding refuge in the dark.

The other half stayed small, hoping the sunlight would find them but I was quick to learn, sunlight doesn’t need to seek.

I grew detached, split in two and my weight never distributed evenly.

‘So be it’, thought I. ‘I’ll just continue to grow this way’.

And over the years I grew but my foundations were flaky, always conflicting and because of this I grew a little wonky.

It wasn’t so bad and I didn’t stand out too much, as those around me were a little wonky too.

When the storms blew I lost many pieces, rigid stems broke quickly as they refused to lean into the current.

As I was wonky, I lost more on one side and as I aged I found it harder to renew and as all my gusto seeped away, I stopped trying. Slowly I began to wilt.

I was tired and despondent yet restless and curious.

And then one day curiosity got the better of me as if I didn’t do something soon, I would surely rot.

I felt an intense need to shake.

To rip apart known structures and see what happens.

So I did exactly that.

I shook so vigorously that others looked at me with disfavour.

I wriggled and jiggled and rippled with such force that dormant life living in soils below woke up.

The earth began to move. Each organism scuttled, searching for new comforts.

And in those moments of complete disarray, I retrieved damp roots to dry them off and released all I was sheltering into the sunlight.

The whole of me swayed and for a second I thought I might fall, but I didn’t. My roots intertwined, warmly embracing the lost.

And my foundations spread out, they deepened. One root never far from another, I was supported by my very own community.

Water reached the tips of me.

Life crawled up my strengthening frame.

The further I reached, the more life I could welcome.

I felt integral, I still do. I feel necessary.

And now I am thriving

Now I am alive.