courage

annihilation

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death.

annihilation.

trans-formation.

no going back,

a time to grieve,

to let go

to let it burn 🔥

it – that which was

and can no longer

be

here

now.

a new identity awaits,

must allow the old

to gently fall away.

scared?

yes, petrified

standing

naked

at yet another Threshold.

where am I going?

where is my Songline leading?

skin shedding,

ancestral beliefs rising –

disempowerment,

unworthiness,

scarcity

the possibility of not living

to full potentiality.

that story ends

here

now

with me,

with fervent prayers,

with aligned community,

with Trust and surrender

day by day,

breath by deep breath,

re-leasing,

re-membering.

the fetus

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innately worthy,

The Source,

from which we all

spring.

when do we forget

what we really are

and spiral

down

deep into The Abyss

of not enough

and the sense of

unworthiness?

grateful for those moments

in exquisite remembrance,

a glimpse,

swirls of pale pinks & greys,

the Curiousity of Creativity

condensing into form,

the fetus,

planted in a womb.

One Week

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Suddenly,

left eye

redness,

pain,

intense light sensitivity.

oh no, uveitis, again?

so soon?

sadness born of

a knowingness.

“I did this.”

relentlessly

disrespectfully

pushed and pushed,

ignored Body’s

implore

to stop,

subtract.

Then the dream

set in another time –

childhood.

garbage overflowing,

unattended

and yet,

still present.

a father

feeding a mother,

their daughter

holding space

for others.

The next day,

head slammed

into metal.

where?

right above

the healing

left eye!

did the brain move?

was some semblance

of sense knocked into

the head, a subtle

and much-needed,

shifting of consciousness?

A few days later:

morning, bore witness

to a wake of vultures

tearing into flesh.

evening, a searing ache

in the middle of the head,

eyes burning,

bedridden.

relief, only from

sleep –

stop,

subtract.

feeding the un-certainty

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where does un-certainty

reside in me?

no clarity

here

now.

what color is it,

this tension of un-certainty ?

not sure.

perhaps, butterscotch,

a merging of orange with yellow,

maybe a clue?

the Sacral, to feel,

or solar plexus’ mandate to do?

to only feel

and not to do?

surrender

submerged

feel the body

trans-form

dis-solve

flow

like the sacral waters

re-lease this Soul.

bible

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a rather bold invitation made:

write your own bible.

at first, a bit of consternation,

followed by curiosity

and irreverent possibilities!

bible as just a word –

lower case b

supplanting the upper case and its connotations:

dogma

constriction

judgement

patriarchy.

no, in my bible

tales of only love

connection,

spaciousness,

and a direct –

always open –

line to Benevolence.

Beauty in The Bleakness

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marveling at the resplendent Peacock 🦚

its extra-ordinary ability to in-gest

poison

and trans-form it into breathtaking, awe-inspiring Beauty.

reminds me of the Lotus 🪷

thriving in bleak

muddy waters 💧

ah, the lessons nature teaches

when we choose to slow down

listen intently,

look up & down & all around carefully,

really lean into

the Totality of Life,

this Moment,

each other.

opportunities abound everywhere

to trans-form the perceived mess and chaos

into gentle medicine for all;

into something vastly different than we’ve ever experienced –

more relevant, courageous, mature, and equitable.

there is unimaginable Beauty in this bleakness.

can you feel it?

an invitation

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you are invited

to shed your masks

gently and slowly

begin to

un-hide

to touch

and be touched

to see anew

to feel and breathe

deeper

than you ever believed possible

to rest

to trust

surrender

fly

to Be in the here

all of you

now

and never

re-turn

to the you

in disguise.

hunger

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a constant gnawing

deep within

to be fed

and tended to

through The Mouth

that did not know

its mother’s milk

suckled instead

by the middle finger

of its right hand

The Mouth that spoke

not a word

its first few years

now relentlessly demands

food

attention

silence

rarely satiated

riddled with shame

and melancholy

a downward spiral

often begins.

here, now

this time

a long breath

slowly let out

through The Mouth

gentler with the hunger

less intolerance

more patience.

Grace

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we fall down

and we get up

we fall asleep

and we wake up

back and forth

up and down

the spectrum of consciousness

we go

round and round

the cycle of unwellness

until

sometimes quite suddenly

a shift

from deep Within

Grace

a gentle beckoning

to another

completely different

way