Tag - kindness

Sometimes…

Sometimes it’s a chocolate and Netflix and biscuits and duvet or too many cigarettes sort of day.

We allow ourselves the luxury of not being the positive, proactive person that we were taught was the only sort of person that was worthy of love.

We allow ourselves to softly and tenderly accept the invitation to sink into our lazy, sadness and pull a warm velvet blanket of deep rest around our weary hearts.

We don’t always have to be shiny and bright and clear.

We allow ourselves to be a murky, clouded sky and let the gentle drops of release fall from our tired eyes.

Every cycle has it’s autumn, its time of falling leaves, it’s time of nakedness and vulnerability, its time of energy sinking down, down, down into the roots of being where it feels as if it will be gone for ever.

This embracing of our humanness is what is being asked of us right now.

We no longer need to fight it. No more shall we give ourselves a hard time for having a hard time.

We have stood alone and fought bravely for so long.  Now is the time to lay down our weapons for this is the new courage that is being asked of us;  the courage to be soft and kind with ourselves.

Can we surrender to this grey landscape?

Can we hold ourselves tenderly and compassionately?

Can we still love and honour our beauty even when the person we see in the mirror is not who we thought we should be?

Can we still have faith that everything is happening for the simple reason that it is time to shed more layers of who we thought we were?

Can we fully realise that this melancholy and weariness is an essential part of our journey home to wholeness?

Can we still trust even when those who said they would stand beside us are lost in the maze of their own desperate attempts to find love?

Sometimes it’s a chocolate and Netflix and biscuits and duvet or too many cigarettes sort of day.

And this too shall pass; but for now we rest and know that the wheel of life is turning as we master this new courage and when the purging is done, we shall rise again.

And say to ourselves with a new voice, with a depth and conviction not felt before:  ‘I Love you’.

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The Bird Table

I wanted to feed the birds so I bought a fine looking bird table from an elderly gentleman who was retired and wanted to put his carpentry skills to good use in the shed at the bottom of his garden.

When at first I hung out the bird feeder and sprinkled the table with seeds the visitors were few.

Sometimes I would have to throw the food in the feeder away because it had gone mouldy and yet I so wanted to feed the birds. I knew they were hungry.

Before too long the big brave birds came: the arrogant, greedy magpies, the comical, strutting pigeons and the quarrelsome blackbirds.  And of course the curious robins, they were amongst the first.

And although to begin with I was a little disappointed because I wanted to see the pretty little birds, I decided to do my best to welcome everyone to my bird table!

The winged creatures are a blessing to me. They are a gift:  miracles in aeronautical engineering presence of a master creator.  Messengers, teachers, delicate beings with wonderful songs to fill the trees and skies.

Like pieces of my spirit the birds flit and fly here, there and everywhere, unfettered by the lightness of their being.  As I feed the birds with my humble offerings I feed my spirit which is also returning to the light.

When the winter months grow heavy upon us what else can we do but feed the birds?

What else can we do but tend as lovingly and gently to the aspects of ourselves that yearn for care and kindness?

And with the passing of time and regular care and attention the numbers and varieties of visitors to the bird table increases in the garden of my being; slowly at first and then more and more.

I sit and watch their antics from the comfort of my chair and  I smile in welcome at the new arrivals who now grace me with their presence daily.

The pretty multi-coloured ones come now too: the goldfinches and bullfinches and blue tits and great tits, the shy winged ones:  acceptance, compassion, gentleness.

So I feed the birds to show them that I love them all.

As I make my morning trip, barefoot across the cold, damp, earth to replenish the bird table for my spirited, winged, treasures I know that as I feed them, so I feed and nourish myself.

And the cold, dark season begins to pass and I am at peace with my winter’s work of kindness and care, tending to the nourishment of the birds as they flit and fly inside me; the arrogant, the gentle, the comical, the cheeky, the quarrelsome, the shy.

After all, I am learning that everyone is welcome at my bird table.

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If You Come To My Door

If you come to my door then please leave your mind by the path on the garden gate.

It’s not that there is a problem with your mind, you have a beautiful mind, it’s just that it gets a little lost and scared at times.

Do not leave it by my door because it will bounce and jump, so that it can peak through the windows.

Hang it gently, tenderly on the gatepost as if it were your favourite bag with a box of eggs inside.

 

If you come to my door then take my outstretched hand for you are most welcome into this sacred space.

Let me take your coat and shoes and take a seat while I prepare you something warm and soothing to sip.

Show me with your eyes when you are ready to be held and I will wrap my strong arms around you so that you will know that you are safe and cherished.

And allow me the pleasure of nuzzling under the tumble of your thick brown curls so that I can breathe you in; your exquisite, delicate, feminine fragrance.

 

If you come to my door please allow me to prepare some food for us while you lay looking so beautiful on the sofa, and rest your sleepy body.

When our bellies are full let’s watch our spirits swirl and blend with the gentle, warm music and soft, cosy candle light.

 

If you come to my door then perhaps my body will dance and move for you as it has never done before and I will lay back when I am spent and watch your curves ebb and flow to the rhythm of your life’s passion for itself.

If you come to my door then perhaps you will also come to my bed. Perhaps I will lay my hands on you where they are moved to be or I will breathe into you the sacred Lover’s breath and allow the magic to pulsate, to move and tremble your open, physical form.  And the releasing, the transforming will be done with tears and laughter while a  deep reverence and gratitude for this human experience shall join us and watch in awe.

Then we shall lay together and I will caress your face allowing the memories and old fears to surface gently like rainbow bubbles whose time has come to burst.

Please come to my door for your love blesses me as it undoes and dissolves that which was never really me.

Your outstretched hand as I go to leave the bed says so sweetly and tenderly ‘don’t go my love. Stay a while longer.  I want you.’ Your wanting melts my heart and tears for all the unloved and unwanted parts of my self rise up.

And when we are done with our healing, our feeling, our letting go, then we will slip into a hot bath together to wash each other and feel the wet contours of these miraculous human lives. Frankincense and Lavender oil to anoint these sacred bodies that know and feel so much.

If you come to my door then know that I will miss you when you leave; even though we both know that Love can never really leave itself.

If you come to my door…

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Male Suicide and the Divine Feminine

At different points yesterday I found my mind wondering about the suicide of my homeless friend Rem and I saw the connection with the feminine, the heart, the feeling centre.
Rem was loved by many folk but he could not feel it. I can relate to this. When we are young and our needs are not met or we suffer trauma, we build protective layers around our hearts to protect them from feeling more emotional pain.
I think of these walls as made of ice and and all the unexpressed emotions that we were not able or capable of feeling at the time.
So we live in a world where the heart, the feeling centre of most people is encased in ice, frozen and inaccessible to varying degrees.
For me the heart is the throne or home of the divine feminine but for too long She has been locked away in this self made prison inside the hearts of men and women.
The ice prison bars protect us to some extent from feeling more pain but unfortunately the bars also prevent us feeling Love that is given freely by people that care about us.
Rem could not feel the Love because of the bars he had unconsciously created around his heart. If he could have felt the Love maybe he would not have taken his life.
My heart was also in an ice prison for much of my life but by the grace of God I realised that I could begin working to dissolve the bars. This is the journey back to the heart that we each are invited to take at this auspicious time in humanity’s story. This journey on a macro level is the pledge to restore the Divine Feminine, to her rightful throne. As each of us make progress on this journey to our own hearts we affect the collective and take more steps towards a new earth built on the foundations of Love and Truth and pure masculine and feminine principles.
This journey is not for the feint of heart because as we set our intention and walk the road back home we will initially feel everything that was not felt before. As the ice bars melt the old ‘frozen alive’ feelings are released and we must have the courage and awareness to know how to feel these feelings which are often intense, especially when we have been numb for so long and are so unaccustomed to know what it is to feel acutely.
For me Rem’s story is symbolic of the journey that man is invited to embark on at this time, back home to the heart, to honouring our feelings, to have the courage to feel the full spectrum of emotions that are part of the miracle of this human experience.
And this journey is not just for men but for women too. Perhaps it is just more of a challenge for men because we were often given even less permission to feel as boys growing up.
Melting the ice bars, feeling again, coming back to life,. walking each other home, courageously feeling what needs to be felt, remembering that not only are we all worthy of Love but that we are always Loved and in actual fact Love is our very essence.
Now is a good time for the sacred masculine to fully embrace the divine feminine, to set her free from the prison where she has been for too long and in this way there will be less and less stories like Rem’s until one day these stories will all but be forgotten.

 

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The All-One Tree

Can you see the tree that stands all alone on the hill?
How complete she seems unto herself as you hurry by.

But slow down, pause a while and look again.

See how her sure branches reach and merge with the light infinity of sky.
See how she makes love with the gentle breeze; caressed and fondled she whispers her delight in the shimmering of her delicate leaves.
See how the sun warms her and the frost adorns her; different lovers who come to be with her a while.

How the raindrops fall upon her, trickling down her branches and trunk into the soil to be drunk by her and released again into the sky to reunite with the shape-shifter clouds that float effortlessly by.

Her leaves practise their alchemy breathing in and breathing out. Silently, unobtrusively wanting no applause or recognition she stands humbly performing her magic.

If you wait a while you will see how the buzzard comes to rest a while in the safety of her branches and look out on the majesty of creation.
You will see how the finches and sparrows come to dine on the small creatures that have made their homes in the folds and sinews of her woody bark.
The squirrels that scamper and chase along her elevated highways and the mice curled in their cosy nest in the folds where her roots meet her trunk.

When the cold days come she rests and relaxes and her leaves and energy fall,
Down, down, down into her roots that twist and turn, held as they are, embraced in the cool darkness of the sacred earth.

Can you see the tree that stands all alone on the hill?
Look a little closer, a little deeper, a little more slowly with the eyes of your heart.
And she will re-mind you that you are never really alone.

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Divine Feminine Moon

So here we are again you and I fair lady of the night.
Again you have slipped into my bed naked save for your silvery splendour.
What is it you want from me?
Why is it that you cast your full glance upon me
And insist I do not sleep but instead that I lay awake with you?
What kind of Lover are you
That you come and go from my bed as if it were yours?

Speak clearly now for you have my full attention.
My mind, body and soul are yours and I need not give permission
For you will do with them as you please.

These restless tides are yours that carry me beyond the shores of my mind,
In search of distant lands that I do not know.
On the oceans of Why and How and Perhaps you cast me adrift,
Seemingly never to reach a place where answers lie.

But, for tonight, you shall have your way with me.
And we will make strange Love again,
For I really have no choice.
Yes I will lie with you now,
And again when the time comes,
For one thing is clear:
I am yours.

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