Memories,
cannot access many –
blurry,
scary,
unwelcomed
they are.
Better to keep locked deep –
for now.
The time may come
to visit certain memories,
one by one,
soft and slow,
well resourced,
strongly grounded,
begin to see
the memories differently,
to heal the broken Heart,
melt the frozen bits,
integrate it all,
emanate a clearer frequency.
Genius
seems to come
at a very steep price.
Typically,
heavy drugs
for a gifted musician
or
egregious infidelity
for a talented athlete.
Why?
The weight of The Pedestal,
the unrealistic expectations,
the Godlike projections?
Or dizzying fame
borne too quick & too young,
allowing no adequate time
for a stronger foundation?
Always a similar story,
a shared humanity,
the need to escape the anxiety,
that knawing
lethal
relentless
core belief
of innate
unworthiness.
Alas, nowhere to run,
the angst always comes back.
Some heal, eventually learn.
Others, they cannot return.
unraveled,
she became completely
undone.
the difference this time:
she allowed herself to be
compassionately
witnessed,
and that
made all
the difference. 🙏
a bit of a contemplative time,
going within,
diving deep –
deeper than ever before,
meeting and making friends
with all the variations
and parts of Me.
Listening
to all their stories
and different perspectives.
Breathing,
long and slow,
taking it all in,
heart breaking and opening –
no judgement,
only Love ❤️,
patience,
and compassion 🙏
At the core,
The Messages
all seem to be same:
Be you, Beloved,
please do not deviate
from your Original Face 🤗
Original artwork by Lili Arnold for CauseBox, 2017
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.
I am
a child
at play,
blissfully oblivious
to the perceived madness
“out there”.
In my imagination
I dwell
touching Earth 🌎
and Sky 🙏
No war in here,
nothing to fight for.
No hatred,
only true Love.
Generosity always,
in lieu of greed’s
incessant needs.
So bright,
exquisitely simple,
where I play.
Ease-full
especially when
the discomforts come.
CommUnity,
where I play.
It’s a small
intimate world 🌎
We know
see
hear
heal
tend to
each other.
Not Perfection –
far from it –
we are children
after all!
In our play Ground,
chaos joyfully dances 💃
with Innocence!
We are children
at play!
Come,
now,
join us!
All are welcome!
not enough
then
suddenly
too much!
something missing
what?
a yearning
for sweetness,
release
from discipline,
a tipping point
of sorts,
can no longer run
or hide
sadness
disappointment
fear?
of what?
barely space
between internal stimulus
and its well-trodden response.
a mere taste
then
suddenly
the deluuge,
surrendering to the waterfall.
a deep
familiar
insatiable
hunger
for sweetness
presence
purpose
excitement
reasons
any
to be
here
now.
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.
blocked 🚫
mere months
after The Transition
of he who was The Force
keeping family afloat,
tethered,
ever so delicately.
without him,
shedding,
the masks came off,
niceties abandoned.
“Love” disintegrated
to the point of blocking 🚫
take nothing personally.
still, sad,
feels abrasive,
like a middle finger 🖕
borne of deep hurt
a sense of disrespect,
expectations unmet.
The Circle 🔵 dwindling
by death
and, now, blocks 🚫
everything
so tender,
tenuous,
ephemeral.
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.
burgeoninc 