Posted in Ascension, darkness and light, healing, Poetry

Seeing the Light Through Struggle

When something unpleasant comes up, what do you do? Do you hold it inside to avoid creating unpleasantness for others? Or do you express your feelings and go through that unpleasantness in order to work it out and clear the air? And what if you get caught up with the other person in a whole world of hurt and recrimination? What if you can’t work it out together?

I recently found myself in this position, we do, from time to time. I went through all my hurt feelings, explored the dialogues I might have with the other and finally saw that my hurt was coming from inside me, not from the actions of others but from what those actions brought up in me.

What was the learning here?

Sometimes, it’s as though someone is purposely trying to push our buttons, creating drama and trouble. Even so, our reaction is down to us. How do we show strength, so not to be a push-over, and yet, rise above it?

I asked for guidance, helping me to see the underlying message for me. I realised old hurts were being triggered. I realised I had choices, that new directions were possible. Still, I didn’t know if I was going to say anything to the other person. It would take a little time for the feelings to resolve within me. Sometimes, I was calm about it, sometimes the feelings would rise up. I noticed that when I’m calm about it, the problem’s no longer there.

It’s always a good idea to stay with those feelings for a while, because they shift through a process of change and a day or two later, we might not feel the same. Sometimes, we need to talk about it, no matter how painful it may be. Sometimes, we don’t.

I found that the message and healing for me was the realisation that this is igniting a journey of transformation inside me. To remain in a place of connection, not fear, for hurt is a form of fear. This was an opportunity for me to turn within and reconnect with the light within my being, and just like that, I was reminded of a moment, two years ago, when the light flooded through my being like a cascade of the deepest, most incredible love and enlightenment. I knew that moment was with me still, once experienced, never lost, and here was a reminder to open to it again and embrace that light within.

At the time, a friend who witnessed my enlightening experience gave me this poem which I share with you now. It’s a reminder that, even if we don’t hold onto those powerful moments of growth, even if we plunge into darkness again, we don’t lose the moment. It’s called ‘Annunciation’ by Marie Howe:-

Even if I don’t see it again — nor ever feel it
I know it is — and that if once it hailed me
it ever does–

And so it is myself I want to turn in that direction
not as toward a place, but it was a tilting
within myself,

as one turns a mirror to flash the light to where
it isn’t — I was blinded like that — and swam
in what shone at me

only able to endure it by being no one and so specifically myself I thought I’d die
from being loved like that.

(Image: “Turbulent Waters” by Amenet Drago)

Posted in artistic, oneness, Poetry

“Please Call Me By My True Names”

Do not say that I’ll depart tomorrow
because even today, I still arrive.

Look deeply: I arrive in every second 
to be a bud on a spring branch, 
to be a tiny bird, with wings still fragile, 
learning to sing in my new nest, 
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower, 
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.

I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry, 
in order to fear and to hope. 
The rhythm of my heart is the birth and 
death of all that are alive.

I am the mayfly metamorphosing on the surface of the river,
and I am the bird which, when spring comes, arrives in time 
to eat the mayfly.

I am the frog swimming happily in the clear pond, 
and I am also the grass-snake who, approaching in silence, 
feeds itself on the frog.

I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones, 
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks, 
and I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to 
Uganda.

I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea
pirate,
and I am the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and
loving.

I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my
hands,
and I am the man who has to pay his “debt of blood” to my
people,
dying slowly in a forced labor camp.

My joy is like spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom in all
walks of life.
My pain is like a river of tears, so full it fills the four oceans.

Please call me by my true names, 
so I can hear all my cries and laughs at once, 
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.

Please call me by my true names, 
so I can wake up, 
and so the door of my heart can be left open, 
the door of compassion.

– by Thich Nhat Hanh

Image: “Look Deeply, I Am My Joy and Pain” by Ananda Amenet Reid

Posted in Inspiration, Poetry

A Gift For You

This poem came out of a poetry dive, in a yurt in the woods with a circle of beautiful, open-hearted women. And I ask, whose voice is speaking and who is it for?  The voice is one of many that lives inside me and it speaks for you and for me, after all, we are the same.  But especially, I gift it to you.  May you find something you need in it.

Whatever comes, comes
Whatever flows, flows
Whatever gives, receives
Believe

Believe in yourself
Believe in yourself
You are beautiful
You are worthy
You are the world
And the world is you

This is the beginning
Always the beginning
Burgeoning beauty
Steps forward from here

The flow of love
Meanders from your heart
Only the dark forbids it
Nothing yields
Nothing ceases
Always flowing

Build your boat
And flow with it
For the waters are rising
They are rising

Rising to the heights of the moon
Rising beyond the stars
And everything sparkles
Like moonlight at play on water
Like diamonds fallen from the stars
And there are wings

Hear them rustle
Hear them whoosh with the air
They unfold, they flutter and stretch
They extend in magnificence

And you are away
Into the night sky
To the stars
To the void
The void that is the womb
The sacred womb

Your bones are old
They are old bones
As old as time
As full of stories as the stones

These bones know
They know all that can be known
They are broken and bent
They are bound sticks
They rebuild you
You are new

Reborn in the night
Of stars and starlight
Wings extended
Bones mended

Blood flowing
Womb growing
Into the void
The dark void
The void that is the cave
The cave that is the night
From whence came forth the light

Posted in Inspiration, Poetry

The Warp and Weft of Life

Click, clack; click, clack;

The shuttle shoots from wealth to lack.

Warp, weft; right, left;

Calm, stressed; cursed, blessed.

As the weaver works the loom,

So, the cloth will grow and bloom.

Life is woven into braids,

Coming in a range of shades.

One day up, the next day down,

Smiles transforming to a frown.

Warp, weft; worst, best;

Stern today, but soon I jest.

One day lively, next in bed,

Body tired, a sleepy head.

Today’s a problem, hit a wall,

Tomorrow’s wall is not so tall.

Warp, weft; quit, quest;

All my order turns to mess.

Yesterday, ideas flowed,

Today, that flow is overload.

No matter how we warp and weft,

The cloth we weave is finely blessed.

Without that click-clack moving shuttle

We wouldn’t make a cloth so subtle.

And as we let our days unfold,

So, we weave a cloth of gold.  

I was inspired to make this poem, thanks to a visit to the National Welsh Wool Museum in Drefach Felindre, Carmarthenshire. You would not believe the noise that was going on whilst that machine was weaving. The parallels to life were leaping out at me, particularly the amount of fuss and noise I’ve made over the years at the warp and weft (mainly warp) of my own life.

At the end of the day, those ups and downs of life are all necessary to make the rich tapestry that is our life, our experience and our learning. I am learning to value, accept and even welcome the down days, the sad days, the bleugh days and the ones that feel like a waste of time, because they are not, they are adding contrast that make the vibrant colours of the other days stand out. They are often the days that I learn the most and that lead me to finally make the changes that my soul is urging.

There are no bad days for me anymore, only days of different moods and colours, all coming together and making the tapestry of my life all the richer.