“When you do things from your soul, you feel a river moving in you, a joy.” ― Rumi
Day 20 & 21… I’ve proved to myself that trying to write a poem everyday from a prompt turns me into a machine. I can’t feel any flow, and I’m dead in the water. Sometimes I need a few days to re-group, because I lose momentum, otherwise I find myself writing drivel from an empty place and it feels meaningless, and right now I need meaning in my life. I know that I have not been drinking enough Earth nectar lately or living in the moment. I’m caught up in the hustle of life and I’ve been filling my mind with defeat. Dust is gathering in the corners. Down time is sacred to me, and it reminds me not to try and be someone I’m not. It feels like I’m going against the grain and you know what that leads to… burn out! I am not an intellectual, I rather feel my way around things before I think them through. I don’t feel like I’m on the page anymore, this stone has no more blood in it. I need some meaty stuff to get me through the day, maybe it’s just the place I’m in right now?
I feel as though I’m scratching for words in the dark, making up lines and syllables, meaningless drivel smudges the pages of my life. I’m a human watcher, a human lover, I love the nuances of humans, even their struggles make them more human! When I’m not my true-self it’s like a mist forming over everything preventing me from seeing the beautiful undiluted images of self. Scratching down non-descript words, searching in the archives of an empty vault, I feel as though I’m losing my sense of purpose, What am I here for? and the Sage said to me “I have worked out that our only job is to be here and to welcome the night”, so that’s what I’m doing. For the full story read here..
Last week I absorbed the suffering of the whole world (as well as my own) into my body and my mind…
I feel like a prisoner of thought, caged by my own mind, stuck in a time-warp, I can’t identify myself. I feel lost, empty, confused, a reed in the wind with no bearing, no true north. I’m a clanging gong, out of sync, out of time, born of chaos. I eat, I drink, I wake, I sleep, but my understanding seems groundless. The truth is not fixed or even visible, it waivers!
Around every corner there’s a sense of nothingness, my hopes are shattered, I don’t want to feel anymore. I want to fade into the light, be covered by darkness, gathered into a cosmic eddy and vanish from the face of this earth. Just to be assumed into heaven and relieved of suffering, erased of all thought, of hurt. Words have become shards of pain, visitations.
I pledge my allegiance to love only, for love as energy is ceaseless, it is undisguised, it is all that I am… a resonance, a vessel, it does not falter or wane. Love seeks not division but unity, it does not grow tired of me. Love lifts the heavyweight from me and transforms me into kindness… For love is eternal, it is the answer to every question I have ever asked, it is the perfection and the chaos of who I am! Even in my darkest moments, when I could not reason with my afflictions, love gathered me into invisible arms, closer than my skin, love stormed the gates of hell to find me… I have surrendered to love’s purposes, to its extravagance, to its wildness. For I am nothing and I am everything because of love
In June of this year, my Dad aka Douglas-Henry would have been 100 years old. He was born after the Spanish flue in a place called Mvuma in Zimbabwe. I don’t think he would have taken kindly to the present lockdowns or booze ban (yes they have banned alcohol for the third time). He did however make his own mulberry wine and beer, which was quite lethal if I remember correctly, it could knock your socks off.
He was a futurist and predicted the landing on the moon when he was a child. People laughed at him and said it was impossible. He rode to school on a donkey and when he got there it was time to go home. He made his own radio and grew up to be an electrical engineer. He taught me the inner workings of washing machines and he could fix any electrical crisis in two ticks. He was still climbing electricity pylons at 70 and had a portfolio of all the electrical installations and substations he had been involved in through the years. He loved technology and was always keen to learn new things, however, he couldn’t boil an egg or make a cup of tea.
He was a member of a club in every city and he frequently played at the 19th hole. In his 20s he drove from Bulawayo to Nairobi in a Morris minor where he met my English Mother..
I don’t really miss him because I have dreams about him riding a skateboard with my son, Stevie. He is in a much better place and he gets to hang out with some really cool post-material people.
He was a crazy brilliant dude who didn’t have much emotional intelligence, but hey, he lived in an era when you didn’t talk about your feelings. I think I got my love for science fiction from him and a taste for the exotic.
He used to say to me “your best isn’t good enough and sorry is too late”, which I think is absolute BS! He expected far too much of me, which didn’t bode well for me or him because I’m a rebel at heart. He liked me quite a lot though, and on good days I would call him “Daddykins”. I think I taught him more than he taught me in the end, the loving part didn’t always come easy to him. Believe it, your kids are your greatest teachers, I know mine are!
However, unknowingly he did teach me to be curious, to think for myself and question everything, even him!!
“Love says ‘I am everything.’ Wisdom says ‘I am nothing.’ Between the two, my life flows.”― Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj, I Am That
I always wanted to be someone-etched out in beauty and intelligence, written in stars. To be noticed in the hallowed-hallways of time… instead I wore the garments of suffering, eaten alive by failure, I stumbled forward on an invisible journey, hemorrhaging fear, awakening in shadowlands, yet constantly occupied by mystical light, guided into atmospheres of imagination, soul symphonies, high octaves of love…
It was a gradual letting go, fingers finally unclenched, surrendering to the life that desired to play itself out, the slow-release of delinquent narrations. I recognized the small-self, not in condemnatory overtones, but with love and forgiveness. I learned to observe the ravenous ego, that feasted on compliments, needing approval, craving to be known…requiring flattery to breathe!
Though I have spoken penance to my failures, rewriting the script, I think I may always suffer the voices of disapproval, as they rasp in the silence, their off-key rhetoric catching my breath, bringing me to a momentary halt…they are curves of learning!
On looking deeply into my reflection, the little girl appeared more balanced than the one I became…so I put aside any narration I had made up, or was told, and reminded myself that I have always been the breath of the Divine and my only requirement is love…
I have attempted this balancing act between being nothing and being everything, and I am gently learning to flow in each direction… and yet I am still in need of further instructions!
“When love awakens in your life, in the night of your heart, it is like the dawn breaking within you. Where before there was anonymity, now there is intimacy; where before there was fear, now there is courage; where before in your life there was awkwardness, now there is a rhythm of grace and gracefulness; where before you used to be jagged, now you are elegant and in rhythm with your self. When love awakens in your life, it is like a rebirth, a new beginning.” ― John O’Donohue, Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom
I’ve been face-down in sadness, quenched by mud and slime, yet enlivened by spirit, felt the beautiful rhythms of grace in brokenness, and the chaff of suffering. Loving-kindness has been my mantra, I’ve eaten its bounty and dressed up in its joy, woken up to courage in the morning, when I thought I had none, known the sweet kisses of the moon and stars, when loneliness was all I could touch. I’ve gone to sleep with anger and found it still lurking in my hard heart at dawn, I’ve held onto forever like it was my last chance. I’ve splashed the earth with my weeping, gathered up forgiveness with my breath, and exhaled sorrow and fear. I’ve rearranged my beliefs, with lashings of faith, and felt the magic of each moment. I’ve been bedraggled and forsaken, yet robed in love. Peace has been the bed-fellow of my dreams, arriving unexpectedly when I was blown apart. I’ve learnt to be gentle with myself and discard my victim mentality, as I begin to understand and unravel the mystery of the life that is laid out before me…
and I pray that some-day the jagged-edges of my small-self will gradually be chipped away and reveal a more elegant being….
I have been a stargazer since I was a child. A few days ago I cleaned all the lenses on my Dad’s old heavy telescope so I could watch the great conjunction tonight. I saw the craters of the moon and I got really excited. Sadly today the skies are cloudy and I will not be able to see it from where I live, but I’m holding thumbs that it will clear just a little so that I can see Jupiter and Saturn align and welcome in the age of Aquarius. On this the longest or shortest day of the year, depending on where you live I wish you happy Winter/Summer Solstice…
I took this a few days ago…
touch down in starlight gather its glow, stumble into the presence of divine overflow…
and when darkness threatens, merge with light, in resplendent overtones that illuminate the night…
as hearts open and the veil lifts, watch as the planets breathlessly kiss…
I dressed up
so you wouldn’t see me,
but you saw through
into my silence,
like an iridescent god…
on grasslands bent
and the skies
spread out in joy,
I felt my sorrow easing
as I scrambled
from the void…
an abundant treasury,
and from viscid
I heard their reverie…
hidden from prying eyes,
in mud I was baptized…