The Edge

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What if the edge

Where I stand so close

Was not as we put it

Madness

But a falling tree

So distantly

Is holding my hand

As cries for the land

To be left alone

Are ignored

And poured

Is silencing tar

Upon the tongue

Of ones

Uniting

What if the edge

Where humans wait

To contemplate

Decisions made

Settings laid

Went wrong in our eyes

Yet this denies

The truth

That follows

The wallows

The tears

Wading through fears

To learn

And return

To love

What if the edge

Such promises pledged

To myself I would stay

Ten steps away

From jumping

To shatter

What doesn’t matter

Yet falling would purge

The empty urge

To need more

To blame

To consciously shame

What if the edge

Was the state of it all

And we follow the call

To love

To agree

That one are we

And the edge

Is the line

Yours and mine

To notice the drop

And stop

The divide

That rips the inside

Of all the confused

Perfection infused

Beings we are

Travelling far

The star

Is the mighty in you

And together we do

More than believed

At the edge.

#13 Grateful for Melting Hearts

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Morning blessings!

Today I am grateful for human resilience. For the strength we hold in our hearts, our minds, our soul. One day our hearts can feel frozen, the next melting waters feed our growth, our understandings.

There is nothing we are thrown that we cannot withstand, we keep going until we stop yet even then our spirit merges to a place so mysterious it has fed the imagination of a million generations. There is nothing we know for certain yet I truly believe that deep down, we have an understanding for everything.

As the earth rolls from pink skies to darkness, there is no end or beginning, just a continuation of movement and we glide, we soar, we soak in the changing view.

All happens for a reason and I am grateful for faith, trust and universal love as that is what holds us tightly through unchartered territory. Thank you for melting hearts, they are never wasted, only absorbed.

Mama J

 

Said Mama J

The other day

‘Don’t fret cos the moon got your back’

My response was ‘WOW

please tell me how

you know such a comforting fact?’

She replied ‘I know

As the thoughts I sow

Show up in the weirdest way

And the stars tell me this

You must follow your bliss

Then love you once lost will stay.’

So I tried it one night

When the moon was bright

But I couldn’t think what to say

So I gave up trying

Then words came flying

‘Thank you for sending me Mama J’

LoVe

The beauty in me

I decide to see

Depends on the winds

That coast

Since I can’t grasp the air

Nor solemnly swear

That I’ll feel this way

For the rest of the day

So I call on my heart

To draft me a chart

Of what to do

When I feel like shit

And low and behold

Such feelings unfold

Of love

And that is it

As not one little bit

Does the beauty in me

Need more than to be

Feeling such feelings

Of love

#9 Grateful for Grumpy Grandmas

Ok, my grandma isn’t grumpy, not all the time anyway. I just always thought of her as grumpy when growing up because when I stayed with her as a kid, she’d mostly tell me what I shouldn’t do rather than what I could.

She’s been staying with us for 3 weeks, basically my uncle has been poorly and there is a huge possibility he could have pancreatic cancer. He’s in the middle of having tests at the moment and as my grandma lives alone, she didn’t want to be on her own during the stressful time of waiting to find out what exactly is the matter with him.

Previously, when she’d stay with us in London (she’s from Leeds in Yorkshire), I’d find it a little stressful, only because I was focusing on the idea that we are completely different. I always found it exhausting defending my views on life during conversations with her about this and that. However, this visit has been like no other. It hasn’t been hard or stressful or challenging at all. We’ve got on, we’ve talked about opposing views but I haven’t flared like I may have done in the past. I’ve stopped judging her (I realise I’ve been very judgemental in the past, obviously the less I judge myself the less I feel the desire to judge others). I have enjoyed her company and appreciated her for who she is, rather than finding fault as she’s not living up the expectations I was imposing upon her. She’s 90! I can learn so much from her… yes she may eat cheap meat and not worry about animal welfare and has very conservative opinions about political affairs but she’s also caring and strong and vibrant and loves meeting people and enjoys her life.

I have been amazed these past few weeks with how much I have learnt about her as I loosen those judgement reigns. I haven’t built the usual ‘I’m not going to talk to you much because you’re just going to upset me’ wall that I’ve been hauling around in her company for the past 10 years. I am so grateful for that, so grateful that I have been able to listen to her, to witness her softer side and to feel a genuine warmth between us that may have previously frozen due to frosty bites I’d use to defend against something that was never attacking me. That’s the point isn’t it, we can build up so much attack in our systems that everything outside begins to resemble a dangerous weapon of mass destruction.

These few weeks I’ve seen many of my weapons melt in the fire that has kept grandma and I warm as we play cards and I show her how to make a almond milk hot chocolate. Turns out, she likes my plant-based cooking and has now bought herself a blender to make smoothies like the one’s she’s enjoyed here.

Life throws us surprises every single day and for me it’s just being receptive, showing an openness to learn rather than defend. Learning to love is the greatest lesson so far (and I can’t imagine it ever gets better than that).

Complicated

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

Old Friend

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Hello anxiety, old buddy, old pal

With intentions to keep me out of harms way

Building those bridges to comfort zones

That I eagerly crossed, back and forth each day.

I’ve taken you places, so many to count

With syncing strides as we’re one of the same

You’re no stranger to me, or demonic force

Yet upon you I’ve laid such hurtful blame.

But blaming you only sets us apart

Like two sides fighting with the strength of one

Was me versus you on bloody fields

Your attacks I would lose but peace was not won.

I don’t ask you to leave and never come back

As my wholeness depends on the lessons you teach

But let us shake hands and soften the battle

And decide it is Love that we both choose to preach.

 

Trust over Fear.

I don’t feel so crappy, so overwhelmed by anxiety like I used to. Those days of fretting about how to cope with unwanted yet invited fears tease me less and less. The fear is still there but slowly what once felt like a foot off deathly heights, now feels like softer footprints in the sand, I’m managing more comfortably.

Those ‘sick’ thoughts have taken a back seat on the bus, chilling with memories of youth.

What the hell do I do now?

Weakness and sickness has been my story, my velvet pillow to curl up on and prove to myself that limiting beliefs were my truth. Don’t we have such a wonderful ability to manifest anything we want, even truths that damage; they seem more real to us than intangible oxygen.

I was the woman to ‘suffer’ to blame anyone, anything for failings that I now see were never really failings in the first place. Even writing is hard at the moment, old ground is being covered and poetry doesn’t flow like it once did. I don’t want to write about pulling thorns from bloody flesh anymore, the wound is healing.

The word healing is also taking on different connotations. Was I ever really broken in the first place, was all that led me to this moment, to write this, all part of the perfect timing that is my evolution? If I wasn’t broken, where does healing come in? However, I’ve deeply surrendered to my intentions to ‘heal’. It has been monumental in allowing me the space to find love and unconditional support that fills every cell of my being.

Is that it, is self love all we need to find? (Or re-find as I don’t think it’s gone anywhere, we’ve just forgotten how to love ourselves completely). Not needing to worry about the words we use or the rituals we adopt, just finding a way to uncover the gem within.

I am different now.

I say no when I want to and I bless myself each morning with as much love as I can muster when I wake. I’m taking time to tune in and assess my wellness. I’m no longer ashamed to talk about my journey, my life, as it feels worthy, not so detached. In actual fact the more I share, the more connected I feel. Not so much on a physical level, I’ve certainly found much needed peace in my own company. Maybe that’s the next chapter, finding peace amongst the busy I’ve previously found so hard to withstand.

We are not living life detached from each other, even though we might want to think we are. We’re much bigger than that, connected on many levels, so mysteriously intertwined in ways we still cannot comprehend. I am only beginning to truly understand this and yes, I’ve still a long distance to travel but don’t we all. It’s the middle of a story that keep us intrigued not the ending. Each day as I learn something new about myself, I learn more about being human and how we thrive off the invisible thread that binds us together.

I’m scared shitless though, the ground beneath is violently shaking and patterns or habits that no longer serve me and disintegrating. I feel like loose tea in a cup of hot water, finding a different leaf and new taste sensations with each stir.

I guess we are more afraid of our power than our failings. There’s an illusion of security in our failings, like we know what we’re getting. Yet really all we’re doing is staying on our knees where our body gets bored and our joints stiffen, a painful position to keep. Faith in our power means trusting, it means standing up and loosening stiff joints. It means trusting we have all we need is within, not so easy when we’ve grown to believe that the tools to keep our lives enriched comes from external ‘stuff’. Who knows what can be achieved if we just trust and believe.

Home

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Many times I’ve doubted the strength I have to carry myself.

‘Am I enough or are broken pieces of me distributing weight unevenly?’

I wasn’t enough, or so I believed.

My knees ached as I dragged conflicting reasoning’s everywhere I travelled, not truly feeling safe anywhere. Mainly blaming environment or circumstance.

I’m claustrophobic because feeling confined within the dark space of my mind dampens my palms and revs up the heat, exhausting vitality. In the company of so many people I feel anonymous, I feel alone and my thoughts are deafeningly loud. Did I feel so unworthy that I never screamed, never vented any of my worries?

‘Fuck you life, Fuck you!’

I never did screamed, ever. I swallowed instead.

And anxiety grew, rooting deeply into my pelvic bone, unsettling every step I took.

The inhospitable me that I’d grown to accept, to misunderstand was the only reality I knew when I slept, when I roamed, when I sat to eat dinner at the kitchen table.

Safety in my shell, was this ever a possibility when attacks from within were so violently satisfying? Sharp blades of self-hatred pierced through my gut lining. I was a walking battlefield.

But not anymore…

I am fed up with fleeting doubts that poison my power.

So my shell is a little dented and scarred tissue decorates my flesh, so what?

I am unravelling restrictive bands from around my lungs, it is safe for me breathe as deeply as when I first arrived into this world.

Breathing life into the only home I’ll ever need to invest in

Investing in me

I am home.

Mission to LOVE

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I’m on a mission to Love. Myself. Completely.

The kind of love that never depletes, love that overspills and never empties, filling density and space.

I’m on a mission to Love because there ain’t no medicine like it and as a woman who’s smashed her toes on the very bottom, Love was the only nectar that tenderly held my bones together for long enough to repair.

I cannot despair at the vicious behaviour of others if I am unable to witness my own destructive actions, the daily whips and slaps and disgraces that riddle my thoughts. What is the difference between my violence and theirs? Attacking internal landscapes only fuels disruption, when I hurt myself I want others to suffer, no soul is exempt from that.

Without Love I’ve dragged my flesh over broken shell and bitten the healing skin only to watch it bleed again. Without loving myself I’ve wanted the love of another to heal what I keep pulling apart, piercing their frailty in the expectation they’ll understand mine.

I don’t want to pick at open wounds anymore, expecting the needle of another to sew me back together. I am no longer a victim begging for another’s arms to save me. I have enough love to know I am already saved. Some days I believe this more than others.

I’m on mission to Love the crap as much as the good, merging the two into a golden thread used to strengthen the bond between pains and perfection.

To embody what’s already within me without fear or trepidation. To Love who I am utterly and completely with every cell of my being, every second of everyday – That is my mission.