Posted in Thinking out loud

Just ramblings…

“Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.”
― Mary Oliver

My father was a futurist, when he was a child, he predicted they would
land on the moon, people just laughed at him back then.

I was a terrible disappointment to my father, I was an underachiever of the highest order.
Somehow it never bothered me a bit, but it bothered him a lot.
He would spend hours lecturing me on the benefits of academic greatness,
and after a few toots it got even more hectic.
I wanted to please him but nothing in me would allow me to be something I was not.
Perhaps there was a force greater than myself at play.
I did have some things in common with my dad, we both loved sci-fi and cartoons,
and as the only one in the family it gave us a common bond.

I think he wanted me to have some kind of achievement
so that he could add me to his brag album, like a trophy to be gloat on.
My struggle always was to be accepted by him.
I couldn’t wait to leave home and no longer be under his thumb.
Sadly the world was not very kind to me and basically, I fell on my face. (for a while)
I do sometimes wonder if I had done what he asked I would be at the very least a university graduate, if that is anything to write home about?

Having said all this I do find myself having great affection for my dear old dad, it’s been a kind of miracle in the making. I was compelled at one stage to forgive him for not believing in me and not loving me the way I needed to be loved. You know how that goes, it’s a very long and hard process, and sometimes an extremely painful one… it’s a giving up bit by bit of who I wanted him to be and learning to accept the life I have been given.
Somehow within me I know that he did the best he could with what little he knew at the time.
He had his own mountain of baggage!

Perhaps he even had a hand in molding me into the person that I am today, in a very strange kind of alternative way, learning through contrasts.
When I was a child, he made me keep secrets and I never understood why, but I became a believer in truth, and in being real. To this day I am not very good at keeping secrets.
Because of him I question everything, I’m a curious human being. I tell people I love them as much as I possibly can, something he was unable to do…

A few days before he died, he smiled at me with such great affection, it melted away much of the animosity in a single instant. It was like a window into another world where love covers all sins, a supernatural feeling, or maybe it was just because he was high on Morphine.
Perhaps even a moment of enlightenment.
In that moment he seemed to have pride in his rebel daughter, and I’m so grateful for that gift.
It gave me a glimpse of the hope that does not disappoint us!

That was my beginning into the knowing, the journey into becoming, opening the box of darkness and seeing it as a gift.

(I wasn’t going to post this, but part of my therapy is saying things out-loud
and talking through the hard stuff…

If you got this far, thank you for reading!)


Posted in Thinking out loud


“We cultivate love when we allow our most vulnerable and powerful selves to be deeply seen and known, and when we honor the spiritual connection that grows from that offering with trust, respect, kindness and affection.
― Brene Brown, The Gifts of Imperfection

In bygone times
I would read between the lines
and the resonance
sounded out in laughter
in memoirs of a book
yet unwritten….
tangible moments,
that were once
with a communion of words
and images,
friendships across the miles
unbroken connections….

Now it reads
like an echo chamber
a seemingly irreversible
a mere appendage
of what used to be.
Where once we forged
they now appear lost
in timeless algorithms,
stolen by unknown entities

And all that’s left
are abstractions
the bare bones of who
we wish we were,
maybe who
we are yet to be.
Just cut-outs of ourselves!

What happened to
picnics on the lake,
road-trips through eternity,
at moonrise!

Fear trapped us
in a time, warp,
a separation!

We have almost forgotten
the beauty
of gathering,
the gracefulness
of our flawed beings,
our shared humanity,
hearts that pour out
with incredible love
and the divine light
that holds us

I read such a sad story on Instagram about a man who feels
“forgotten, no longer seen, invisible” were his words..
At times like this when connection is the essence of humanity, are we lost?


Posted in Thinking out loud

Death’s head!

“Be the reason someone smiles. Be the reason someone feels loved and believes in the goodness in people.”
― Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart

My Mother used to use the expression “like a death’s head at a feast” to describe a particularly disagreeable person at a social event. I was always amused by it and vowed to myself never to become one. As a child, I conjured up the image in my mind of something utterly grotesque!

I’ve encountered some “death’s heads” in my life and they aren’t particularly pleasant to be around. When I’m with them I feel like I’m being swallowed whole by their bad vibes!
These days they call them buzz-kill or party-poopers. I was surprised to find out how many nouns there are for these grumpy Grouches. My favorite is the Grinch who just couldn’t stand being around people who were having fun, but thankfully, in the end, he was prepared to change.

I have also known people who leave a beautiful fragrance wherever they go, they bring life to the dead places within us. They make us feel better for just having been around them. They have delightfully positive flowing energy.

It got me to thinking about writing our epitaph, what would we want people to say about us when we die: that we were rigid and inflexible, quite joyless in our attitude to life, or filled with light and love, a delight to be around, cheerful and unassuming, concerned for others.

If we knew that all the actions on earth that hurt people were recorded in a book to be replayed to us later, to be relived, would it cause us to change? Would we tread more lightly into people’s lives and look into their hearts with great affection. Would we be willing to forego our own agendas and opinions and be interested in their stories? Would we make it a priority to find out about their hopes and dreams, their aspirations?

We are made in the image of the Divine with the light of love as our guide, destined to become beautiful light-filled beings…

image courtesy PixaBay

Posted in Thinking out loud


“A great wind, we say, has come to this plane. You may hide from the wind, you may be carried by the wind, you may glory as the wind strips your clothes from you and leaves you exposed in your own relishing of truth. You can stand by and hold the nearest flagpole and assume your government will protect you from change. Everything will change because everything does. Your idea of safety has always been the known, but we promise you the new, if claimed in true accord, will be far better than what you have agreed to thus far.”
― Paul Selig
from The Book of Freedom, A Channeled Text

Even when we think nothing has changed….
the stars still seem to be in motion,
and the tides still ebb and flow…

the seasons change
we are blown in every direction…

our beings age and grow,
and the expansion of our hearts
removes the husk….
it hurts!

suffering brings forth awakening,
and compassion is emblazoned into our souls…

there is a presence at the turning of the tides,
holding the particles of sand
and letting them fall…

peace transcends the shoreline
as the watchman hold vigils
calling for the gathering
of hearts
to transform the earth
and awaken the sleeper…

we are saturated in grace,
though we drink from the cup of sorrow…

we eat at the table of forgiveness,
for we are beloved beyond the narration of who we think we are,
or who we think we ought to be…

and when the winds of change come
and movement becomes fluorescent,
and in true accord,
our tears will be wiped away
in the twinkling of an eye…


Posted in Thinking out loud

To my dear old Dad…

“Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all  we know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there will ever be to know and understand.”
― Albert Einstein

my father

I don’t really know for sure what my Father wanted me to be exactly, it was something in the line of Doctor or Engineer, it definitely wasn’t a poet or a dreamer. In some of his tipsy tirades, he would tell me he would love me more if I was successful, and to him, success meant having a degree or a doctorate or some kind of scholarly credentials. Being a rebel and a dreamy earthling, this didn’t resonate with me at all.

He would make me sit with him for hours while he fixed the washing machine and I had to memorize all the tiny parts. Maybe I was more of a *“handlanger” than anything else, but his plan was to inspire me to become an engineer like him. Having the ability to daydream while in a serious conversation with anyone has held me in very good stead over the years. It is actually one of my superpowers. Thanks to my Dad I became quite accomplished at not listening while pretending to.

I was born into a family of achievers, but secretly I never had much ambition. I preferred to watch plants grow, play with my pets, dress up, and pick flowers than get all serious and intellectual.
To my Dad, this was a weakness, and I often wondered if he loved me, because I actually failed his admission test. It bothered me for years and I grew up feeling highly inadequate, hiding in shadows so that no one would ask me what I do, too embarrassed to pronounce my occupation.

Perhaps my Dad knows now that I did become a Doctor and an Engineer, not the kind who stands up on podiums with a cape and hat being handed an award, but one who can diagnose humans and broken washing machines just by the noise they make. I’m not a specialist though, so I’m not afraid to refer them to experts in their field if need be.

So perhaps on earth, I disappointed my Father by being a dreamer, but in heaven, it could be quite a high achievement. Don’t get me wrong I’m in awe of people who build bridges, educate children, wangle numbers and fix bodies, but it seems they are defined by those things.

Recently a friend told me that her husband looks just like the accountant he is, and proudly so. It got me to thinking about what I look like, what defines me.
Do we all dress, walk, speak like our earthly careers, and what happens when our lifetime achievements get pulled from under us?

My Dad was an Electrical engineer, he should have looked like Albert Einstein with a shock of hair on top of his head. Instead, he looked like an old git in a safari suit.
Maybe he didn’t care back then like we do now. So much has changed. Who wants to look like a schoolmarm anyway?

People don’t ask me anymore what I do, perhaps it’s my age or perhaps I throw off a “don’t ask me” vibe. I’m disappointed though, I want to be asked….and this is what I’ll tell them. I’m a light-bearer on my 100th or so cycle through the earth. I’ve been all of the above and on this my hopefully last cycle I don’t need to be anyone. Actually, being a nobody is quite enough for me right now!
Is it just a pipe dream that I can discard these robes of ego?

Thanks to my Dad who came to make me feel very small and inadequate about myself while he was here, I learned to see other earthlings as vulnerable holders of light. To see through their façades right into their beautiful essence. Another superpower I hope to be proud of someday. He actually did me a favor…

We are spirits taking on a human experience, sometimes overwhelmed by the need to fit in or stick out, whichever fits. My recommendations always are watching more sunsets, smelling more flowers, sitting and doing nothing for as long as the mind will allow, and getting in touch with the incredibly beautiful beings that we are. If that ain’t a career, I don’t know what is!!
Ok well, I don’t get paid for it but every flower and dandelion appreciates the attention, and perhaps my reward will be in heaven after all….

If we really believed that we are all in this together and that we have been both peasant and king, and everything in between, wouldn’t we be singing along with the Beetles… “all we need is love”?

and thanks also to Albert Einstein for making me believe in the importance of imagination…

*“handlanger”- Gofer


Posted in Thinking out loud

Stained manuscripts…

This poem started off as a journey of grief and how many things I don’t say because of shame. It turned into an understanding of the people who have suffered brutality for so long and have not been heard…
Perhaps it’s even similar to grief…

dedicated to my son Stevie, who always stood on the side of the oppressed and downtrodden…

waiting for the world to change

There are volumes
too harsh
to be written down,
memories too brutal
to become unbound…

utterances confined to padlocked crypts,
expired ambitions
and stained manuscripts…

Songs that remain forever unsung,
hopes interred before they’d begun…

There are confessions
only shared
with confidants,
and terrors
of a macabre dance…

Unpublished dreams in secret vaults,
and testimonies
and unsaid thoughts…

And grief’s exposure is where sorrow lies,
in albums of tears
where the brave arise…

These are events that change the world
burned into the flesh
of fearless souls…

And hope still floats in the in-between
as love moves forward in living streams…


Posted in Thinking out loud


huffed and puffed

Words had dried up in me
scorching my mind
like a relentless drought
sweeping over me,
awaiting ascension…

I held my breath
with brittle confidence
and called out
to higher journeys…

In darkness
where the moon and the planets align
in ever-watchful
of grace,
I remembered
and the intercession of the saints…

Uncertainty had run unbridled through the ravaged parts of my mind…

I’ve thrown the bones,
lived in seas of sorrow,
lain on beds of despair,
and inhaled the agony of living…

Now as I huff and puff
in meadows
where wishes rise
like fragile pods
of prayer
sent heavenwards
to fall
to earth
by faith,
the unborn seeds
of hope
bury themselves anew
in me…

I’ve allowed
these imprisoned words
to spill out, over pages and pages of parched lands
as they quench me,
even immerse me
in baptisms of fire,
cracking open
these pods of unbelief…

I will return to the creed that once wrote my story, long before I came to earth…



Posted in Thinking out loud

Consulting flowers…

“it is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.”
― Mary Oliver


Words get said,
rumors leak,
I’m so tired
of double-speak…
can we trust
this state of mind,
when the truth
is so hard to find?
I’d much rather
consult the flowers,
be enthralled
by their superpowers…
let sunlight filter
through my lens,
while I unfollow popular trends…


Posted in celebratinglove, Thinking out loud

Be love…

Would you become a pilgrim on the road to love?
the first condition is that you make yourself as humble as dust and ashes….
― Mawlana Jalal-al-Din Rumi

bee happy

There are many opinions
they differ
do not let them divide you
that is what they want
so that they can rule you,
because you will fight each other
and they must come like parents
and separate you…

Be always united in love
that is the key to our survival on this planet…
Let your differences go
be one with the glory and the bounty
of everything
of nature
of the cosmos…

Did the bee say to the flower
your colors are all off
you are too spikey
your fragrance is lacking
no, he loved her anyway…

Share what you have with others
for your things are merely on loan to you
for the short time you have here…
And while you are here
let your light shine,
though mists may come up and startle you
and seek to separate you
keep shining
and you will spill through the mists
like a wondrous glow…

See light in every human
words must not separate you
for only God knows all things…
Do you know the truth of everything?
Have you got proof?
Each opinion matters in the scheme
of all things,
if our opinions are tempered by love
they become a medley of conversations
a coming together to understand better
to solve the suffering in this world…

Who knows for sure what is right?
we have been deceived for so long by the powers that be!

Be silent in the knowing
be peace and love always…
If hatred divides, it is wrong
for love is the answer to all things…
Be love
be love
be love
I cannot emphasize it enough!

I have searched for love my whole life
and where do you think I found it?
not on the tongues of the oppressors
or in the minds of right-fighters
but In rooms where desperate people meet
on the streets with outcasts,
among the brokenhearted,
from the mouths of babes,
and in the eyes of the wounded….

I have found love in unassuming fellowships of light….

People don’t let our opinions divide us!
For it is true that love is patient and kind
it does not envy
it does not boast
it does not dishonor others
it is not self-seeking
it is not easily angered
it keeps no record of wrongs
love does not delight in evil
but rejoices in the truth
it always protects
always trusts
always hopes
always perseveres
for love NEVER FAILS…
1 Corinthians 13 v 1-8

Tattoo these things on your heart…

Posted in Thinking out loud

Thinking out loud…

‘Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable.’
~Mary Oliver


Search for fields
of dandelions,
wish upon shooting stars…

imbibe the splendor
of the night skies
write secret memoirs…

Be gentle
with each earthling
learn someone else’s creed…

Slow dance
with your best friend,
notice those who are in need…

Hold tea parties in the forest,
don’t be too rushed,

never force
your opinions,
allow offense to turn to dust…

Dress up if it pleases you,
question every fad,

let music be your inspiration,
weep when you are sad…

See light in every human,
encourage those
who go astray,

Keep your judgments
in check,
as kindness finds its way…

be tender with the downcast,
hold truth in awe,

learn the blessings
of forgiveness,
make love your only law!

bejewel yourself
with nature,
let compassion
be your guide,

with thanksgiving
and wonder
be quietly satisfied…