To be certain there is a way of life that exists in the languid.
Nature never hurries and yet all gets done.
This is not a tapping into, this is not an extraction process , this is not mining of internal resources. This is a growing.
Sometimes I speak of resistance to myself, I notice and catch all the smallness of life, the small distinctions of this and of that. Sometimes I get annoyed way too fast, at life, way too fast at not getting what I want

time is gentle,
time is gentle,

Slowly there is a shifting, slowing down there is a moving sifting through I get the feeling, I’m becoming my own dreaming.
Here amongst the cavernous forum of my lie , the sky sings slowly moving shifting always gleaming, turning swiftly dancing slowing fruit is ripe I am my friend , I need the daring friend friend friend, there is something, moving so slowly resitance to my yearning chasam. I turn off now, I don’t have to take it all on though, even though I feel it’s mine, this is not our slighted journey, this is not our reasonable rhyme, for the darkening, for the lightness, and the color that arises when they meet, I am the child of our aunties and uncles.
give chance
make peace
with the wide open skies
of the southwest
and the land where your brother and sisters fled
and their blood seeped into the land
harboring their empty spirit until the time would come

Forests of Time await in the vastness of our hearts
and the simplicity of
our inner gems, they sing to us
paint themselves an accolade,
sing to themselves
a daring hum
of life present, serene
in the very same hearts

out here

are heartbreaks and suicides,
here, in these moments our tyranny is our blessing.

If you haven’t yet understood the power of this vesicle, comprehend.

Here down to our toes,
we are death, life, assimilated and working.

We are paradox's conclusions
we are demons denying themselves patience, do you hear me?

This could be our last sentence, our last repeat of the cyclic crimes splattered across screens and into our minds, honed deep into DNA and memories passed down to us,
do you think that karma doesn’t die….

Forget with me, for a moment what may tie to you to this or that, what may make you some way or another and remember,
the possibility of your existence and it's slimness and it's fervor

such beauty I could sing.

Come home.
Come home.
Come home to the wonder of yourself.

7 billion+ people and you are lovable, by some one, somewhere, right now, know this, and no I’m not talking ****** partners, although they may fall into the mix,
I’m talking family and friends,
I’m talking the trees who shake and shimmy and bend,
I’m saying the sky loves you, the rivers love you,
the dreams love you, you are a shimmering essence of pollution
turned sparkling star dust when you live like you are worthy, live like you know what you are, ( nothing short of a miracle)
live knowing the magic and beauty that flows through you,

yes, you who knows what death tastes like…and still smiles at the majesty of it all.

If you haven’t yet understood the power of this vesicle, comprehend.

We all have it on our very lips, we all have the ashes of those long dead in our lungs
we burn that to make our cars run.

We think we’re alone out here in the universe
we never even left home
Or explored the forests waiting in the vastness of our hearts.

Come home.
Come home.
Come home.

When faced with the kin of existance turning to me and asking for more when I'm staring down a wall of self-destruction
I falter
I fail
I fall back into the murky past of suckling on my pain and feeding it's worrisome jaunting, it's callous remerks and the uneasy , unquenchable desire for everything to turn around and be just like how it was not , back in some distant moment , back in some dim memory of success of pain or failure.

When faced with the kin of existance turning to me and asking for more
I know i need a rest for just a moment but that moment is not worth it
it is a festering
When faced with the kin of existance turning to me and asking for more
I turn to them and say here it is
here I am
here are my mistakes and my furrowed brows
here is my vulnrable strength
how can I give of that ?
I breathe in deep and relinquish the need to know, the need to be right and I recognize, here in this moment is a greatness , a quality and a strength -
we are alive and it will be aliveness until it's not
it will be aliveness until it's not
and that relentless living will turn and turn and turn as this planet does
as these movements do
and I will also.
This is one of those things that I can't change -

One of those things that I must embrace
One of those things that will make me less crude, softer , wiser , gifted with visions of no more or no less,
recognizing the quagmires

We're just two clouds passing through -
just passing by,
colloquial for but a while -

Firm and fleshy in the moment,
wispy and nonexistant later.

Our cracked and opened shells of a solitary death
co-created
waft up their sweet scent of fertile ground
moist, fresh
smelling faintly of stardust and the impossible -

Our edges that don't exist in this world
shimmer and sparkle
pop and crinkle on foreheads and bellies

shining out of our eyes
is the magic of respect
that blows a strong wind

pushing us away
away
from each other
away
away
from each other
closer
and
closer
and
closer
to ourselves
our own dreams

have changed directions.

BE patient for you were once like him.
Young, joyous and dead inside. Let your frustrations melt into compassion for the journey he is embarking on. Your patience is a gift, hard earned , from toiling the same fields he has yet to sow. His wisdom is in it’s nubile stages where your compassion may water those seeds no end.

Love is your guide, is love not your guide?

Laughter is your superpower , is laughter not your superpower?

Fun is the cosmos, is it not Fun?

Grief is real , so let it through -

Least it turns to anger and eats you whilst you are still living....
on   and on   and on

Be patient for you were once like him.
Be patient for you are not him, he is not you.

Life doesn't always work on the currency of hope.

Be patient for the same fields you have yet to sow
ones you don't even know,
already bloom and fruit, seed and disperse
over on his land called a body.

You are a branched, crooked tree,
and this is the way we exist,
when we are ourselves.

Unknowable until the moment,
powerful beyond our dreaming,

bring yourself back in,
to the land that is your eyeballs and knees,

soft
and slow
and gentle.

Frustration gives way to patience, molten fires cool to foggy breath

Peanut butter sticky mouth breaks the dankness

that thick smoke wrapped round my heart disperses
as I laugh and am startled, lightning piercing through clouds -

When the waves have washed me here,
I'd be a fool to look another way,

sturdy sturdy , doesn't it feel strange.
They say it's chaos out here at the moment.

I've dug these roots and cultivated their tender tendrils.
this is my song
this is my voice
I know this now.

For the love of myself,
Is the focal point now,

spin - turn - it's not yet happened
confusion
confusion
states of misunderstanding
foraging in the silence for our understanding
for the decisions that would make things easier
but I'm turning over now
rolling with this wave
a fool I may be but an anchor I do have

and i've come to be -
sitting
serene meditational gaze
life is unraveling in the way life kows best-
my heart bumps
stumbling occasionally.

For a moment a river,
just a moment a river,
rushing past, just a moment,
a river.

For a moment, just a moment
caressing curves on those river bed rocks
for a moment, just a moment a molecule of water in the sky
for a moment, just a moment,
a river
for a moment just a moment
rushing on by.

Now is the moment, just a moment, river-like,
for a moment, just a moment I am that river.

For a moment, just a moment
I remember what time is
for a moment, just a moment
non-linier.

For a moment just a moment
a riverbed rock,
for a moment, just a moment
an ancient stone,
a moment just a moment,
this is who I am
forever and never
some time ago.

Forensics couldn't figure out what happened to our bodies because they never looked closely enough into their own eyes.

When we walked out across those wild flower grass plains,
moving
our bare feet meandering , twirling, toes earthy, past the goddess river, bowing our eyes and laying sweet blessings of hopeful poetry at her edges with the mountains ahead of us going on and on and on.

Our heartbeats sinking into the smell of summers afternoons.
We
two beings
stand and watch as the water shows us the way across
her gentle back cool and singing.

We keep on laughing to the forests edge and settle by the Elder Trees to pray for the way ahead and the way already gone, we pray to the sentinel trees for their gracious beauty and we leave a small offering of a song.  

We
two beings

I'm all over Hummingbird
She's all over Dragonfly

Listen to the forest for the sign we can move on,

We
two beings

listen with our eyes and our hearts, ears and noses.
We wait, long moments sensing,
attuning ourselves to the rich forest song.
Later, we see the flash of Owl sister and know it is time to move along

in silence, we listen as we walk and let the sounds we hear guide us.

She's all over Wolf Teacher
I'm all over Lynx Secret Keeper

We're both keeping time alive with our actions.

Way in deep, where the floor is soft decomposition-in-motion and the sky is hardly seen, little tickling breezes stir us, we walk along in silence, side by side, always listening

until our feet meet the edge of a clearing and we whisper our offering:
the story of who we are, why we are here, how beautiful this place is and how it came to be that,

I'm all over Calendula
She's all over Nettle.

Here the sun lays upon us once more and we sit , facing each other

We breathe ourselves into mediation.
We breathe ourselves into silence.
We look at each other
past our skins and through to the light emanating from our DNA

and we start to hum.

We hum our spirit song and begin to unravel so slowly the ways of this world,

we begin to unravel so gently the bags we carry under our eyes
over our knees

we begin to unravel so softly the song of our hearts.

Flowing through us a motion so suspending we seem to no longer be singing, but the sounds somehow pour out of us
our bodies start to sway, no judgment, our bodies start to relax, no suffering

perhaps her toe taps and my ear wiggles
perhaps it's her nose jiggling
perhaps it's my elbow nodding.

We two beings
pray to each other sweet words of beauty
sweet words of honesty

we let those bodies dance
up on our feet
twirling and leaping around the green grass, wildflower clearing
until we feel a twang of connection,

like curious little deer we follow that cord in our chests , pulling us towards each other.

She's on the other side of the clearing and as we make small steps , I feel the boundaries of her person. Her energetic walls , I feel her enter into mine. And we stop, acknowledge the space we are entering and ask for permission to move on. We move on

layer by layer, always stopping to acknowledge, stopping to ask permission until we stand 4 inches between us, breathing.

By now we are no longer thinking, we only sense.
She moves her hand close to my wrist,  I meet her the rest of the way.

All collapses in on itself and opens back up again at our meeting.
She rides her hand up my arm to hold my face so gently.

I bring my other hand to her wrist and she meets me half way. I ride my hand up her arm to hold her face so gently.

I bring my hand to her waist and she leans in softly, she leans in softly.

She brings her hand to my waist and I lean in softly, I lean in slowly.

We move like this, unwrapping each other of clothes, breathing ourselves in meditation, going as slowly, gently as we possibly can.

When we are in our natural way, we wait a moment to take in the beauty, we **** our heads and as our words no longer matter we both know we hear a sounding stream.

We beings
perplexed and amused, find ourselves next to a small rocky stream, somewhere else in the forest. Dappled light finds it's way onto us , the trees and the water. Everything is orange and brown, mossy green with occasional pinks and purples.

She smiles and I smile , we make a motion of gratitude to our Great Water Mother and ask to wash.
When a small fish appears and jumps glistening
we move to scoop up running water in hands, pouring it over each others crowns. Again and again we scoop and we pour, we wash our walking sweat and clear ourselves.

Soon, the stream starts to fade and we are now on flat topped knoll, looking out over shallow banks of a wide flowing river.

The knoll is about the size of a large bed , wintergreen rustles beneath our feet.

We sit together and she brings her face close to mine, I bring my face close to hers and we look into each others eyes until we see.

I bring my lips close to her cheek, she brings her cheek close to my lips. And so we find ourselves tasting each other.
Slowly,
gently,
softly her lips come to my ears and her tongue moves on my lobe. My mouth to her nape and my breath is coming slow. We take as much time as we possibly can.

The Sun has not moved from the afternoon position. We are no longer in a place where time is quite the same.

Soon, I lay on the ground and she comes down beside me. Our dancing hands and tongues never in a rush, at a pace like the tide with movements, repetitive definitive and measured. Washing over our earthen valleys and hills, dipping low to our canyons, serenading our ravines. But never quite touching those extra sacred pleasure places.
She lays on her back and I sit beside her.

I kiss her chest and give thanks to her skin, her blood to milk trees and the crystal caves that lay within. I kiss her belly button and thank her mother for carrying her all this way. Her father for holding her. I move down to her womb and she makes a space for me between her legs, I lay there with my head on her belly listening.

I hear the beating blood and gurgling belly, breath staying slow, I hold her hips. and kiss her womb from the outside. I kiss her womb from the outside. I find I am at the edge of a small curly forest, I pray gently with a song at the borderline and kiss her there too. She tenses just a little and a pause, look to her eyes and see she does not want me further.

I slip out from her legs and lay down by her side.
The wide river is moving and the wintergreen is serenading us with her smell as our bodies movements bruise the small leaves. The sun has moved a little further across the sky, shadows are pulling longer now.

She puts her head to my chest and listens to the heart just below skin , bone and muscle.
She hears my breath and is riding up and down with my diaphragm movements. She slows me down until we are both inside the space between heartbeats. Encompassed in those melodies. We breathe again and see each others eyes. She kisses my heart from the outside and caresses my chest. I open my legs offering her space between them. She moves, lingering, one hand first on my face then on my heart, then on my solar plexus. Then her body is softly laying on mine, her head on my stomach. Listening. She laughs a little because the spaces inside of her don't exist inside of me, she says my secret caves are up in my heart, she heard them. She smiles and sighs a little, resting at the edges of my forest.
We beings
lay here, like this for a long time. Until the Sun is way low.
But we don't move. We just keep right on laying. Our eyes closing.

The wintergreen gives way to a bed of Jasmine vines way up in a tree. When we awake we look at each other and recognize our spirits.
She climbs onto the limb of a tree and sees  way across the forest, to more forest and more forest, to mountains and more mountains.
She begins to transform, her body rippling, scales made of light, emerging from her back, her eyes glistening, her dreams swirling around her, fruits ripe for the picking, some still maturing , her legs start to dance as they form one long tail, four legs with claws follow not long after. She is glowing a vibrant green touched with sparks of grey. A Naga flies out from the trees and is off. Into the night to do what she does.

I lay on the Jasmine, inhale sweet sweet scents and dream my own dreams where I'm an Owl , all my feathers pale pink and deep navy blue. I leap up through the canopy and sweep down into the forest to do what I do.  

Our spirits meet sometime before the Great Grandpa Sun is born again, to greet him with a song, to keep on exploring these earth bodies, to keep on singing to the forests, to keep on smelling and eating and drinking and washing, finding others to play with, to keep on thanking and laughing and moving time along with our movements.

The forensics sent into the forest to look for us didn't find diddlysquat because they hadn't looked deep enough into their own eyes.

I am hot in
my hands
the warm flow
of life buzzing in us
is leaving me -
I transform
womban

this deep
in mystic mystery
when eyes see nought so be it.
When eyes see me , see me.

i exist many– a feeling

a being
a way
a path
a love
I am not just perfect golden child material.
My sustenance is born of so much more
My selfishness,
my pride,
these
sinful vanities give me motion and are within me something I must love
not fear
send me my love
send me my love send me my love
send me my love
and let my flower bloom still where the light is not
deep down dank hate is rotting away
and I say nay,
I say nay, I still bloom there , even though my mother  told me it wasn’t ok, for 19 years!
Forget her , she’s learning still,
Nay ! I am still beautiful, crown woven dark and bright,
yellow and pink , brown and orange
Dance and sing
Flush out the rest
No more , no more , no more hate
Festering festering
Festering.

Sheep sneeze
bagpipes play on the soft west breeze, there are clouds out at sea but the sun is ripe on me

it's the laughter
of nature that is my always medicine
the mystery is solace,

drop that armor you ain't going no where
sheath that sword ain't fighting no one
drop that fear all you doin is holding onto trouble

when the world's issues hang heavy on the brow
give em a rest
they'll be there when you come back.

A sunshine dappled moment
they going , they coming

worry ain't no friend of no one
but disease and ill health,
yo mama tryna help you out with those words
"write so people will understand , there's no point otherwise"

just take em real nice right there, take em real kind.

Super imposed onto my retina
what array of images nest there

nonchalance and passion
spacial awareness and communication

other places
ethereal.

love is easy peasy - letting go
falling to catch the updrift wind

fear is difficult - clinging on
surface level entry wears away,
turns to roots
toxic.

love is easy and requires work
to dig up the fear roots , keep them away

by gliding in the up drift
allowing worries to flit , flutter , float away
because loving is easy
nothing to it at all
natural flow
inside my heart

Our own imaginations are beyond comprehension
in the moment nonsense garbles
but with the sight of past eyes looking
there unfolds a divination
coming from the spiral pool depths
a fascination with order and control
may miss out on these soul callings
sometimes shoutings
out to our weary hollowed ears
Look at the stars , Look at the feet !
Run to the trees and sway!!

Walking around amsterdam airport with a bag smelling like tea tree oil a flight, a bus , a coach and a 25 min walk to go  ---

but for now,
I'm standing in the wrong line.

                                                          ­                       Twice.

He calls me out in 53 seconds bursts/
Stinging laughing tears trickle jump ooze --

It was only a matter of time until he would see this deeply,

only I didn't think it would feel so much like
questioning what it is I actually want from my actions and why I'm destroying so much to get there.

Or finally knowing that my self consciousness manifests as a narcissistic, heavy missile on the other side of existence.

Or that I'd be thanking him, even through this blurred pain in my chest.

That I would push away just to feel that tidal pull of love's metaphysical gravity spool and spin , turning vortexes, drawing me back to him as the worlds we built burn , rendered to fragrant ashes.

Some where else
it feels different,
lighter...

In the world behind my eyes
landscape weather systems....

swierall /
cloaouudss! We are playing
despite the uncertainty
still,
life lives her vibrant hues through me.
watchu playin at fool !!
Dance where the music is , let her 10pm sunset strokes caress you to sleep.

My centre's essence clear water sustenance
ready to flow through these charred veins,

giving myself over to mystery,

you are further away then you've been             still
geographically I'm the closest I've been to you since last.

board the plane

love rushing forth for the angered tiredness from your voice  runs rings round my mind,        
                             prompts me
          I'm praying now, in ernest, to Great Spirit that I may have the humility and strength, humor and vision in this becoming....

time is shushing me now,
                                                     give yourselves the healing space, she croons as I sleep sailing through the atmospheric ocean.

Smelling on the wind, firewood.
the heat travels a warm bath around me.
when I set out in the morning/
the wind smells/
cool earth warming, slightly dried.
sometimes salt, I love to drink this.
Nothing to be
but observer/
bathing morning light
is playing now
laying low on banana leaves
got not shame
holds no lust
is pure
transitional beauty /
trust.

Execute “trying” but do so kindly, the balance is fragile and the tipping point is blinding,

the insecure monster likes to feast of fresh joy, feed it and suffer.

Charred bones line his head dress and the children slurp at the last bites of flesh, but no one eats together and she horrified at their ugliness, drowns herself in the mirror and they laugh at each others pity and they sing to each others more-ish vanity as each slither of their compassion turns to silver as they vanish and the scene is repeated in the good book of the law, he’s entitled to everything. These days he doesn’t even have to label her a ***** you think they’ve got it now? I think most people harbor the notion that we’re not very civil and that laws are bent in favor of some. Listen, the good book of the law THINKS he has made a fool out of you and of me. But a fool steps off cliffs because she’s so in love with life that everything is enchanting and everything is magical. She is essential to being alive and well, yet they make her out to be public enemy number 1.  

Either way, he’s sneaking the children in plain sight under his belly of hate and she’s crying in shock she’s gob smacked at the rate in which his searing fear burns their connection to a respect for themselves, she is not bound to this flesh but she is bound to her duty as a mother, what fallow may this be I wonder as I sits and I waits in my sequoia self tree, I wonder as I sits and I waits in my mangrove mud.

She’s readjusting her vision and I’m over the hill, maybe I’m selfish maybe I’m cruel maybe I’m a jester to none, but I laugh a little tune and beat on my drum , maybe I’m downright rude but I’m not able to feel the depth of her mourning but I’m scared in it’s place       I‘ve got shadows on top of me and I don’t want to lose grace or compassion but it’s those ghosts that are leaving me slowly

s l o w l e y

and I want them away, let me open my arms now when I am ready.

I wonder with a heart beating yet, does it hurt him?
or does the taste of oblivion still whet?
Or is is the musk of revenge of who knows what, singing out sweetly on the breaking of one mothers back? Perhaps I lack the proper vision to see what this is all about. I ask that I relinquish myself from her now because I feel what she feels in such clarity and more often than not I’m shaken at the barbarity
that plays down on the unpleasant and on the wretched and at the stinky and it’s uncomfortable to stab myself every time she says I’m not perfect. Between you and me it’s easing, it’s easing. I know of the root to this nausea , it's the mother that came before her.

I’m not one to forget, but I’ll take my time to remember. Remember that my strength warrants my gentleness but that involves **** near heavenly trust because we’re nearing a precipice of our life long surrender
to the current
we’re flowing on and the ins and the outs my body has become a series of caves and the ocean licks at the curves and fills me all up to wash me out and kiss me on the nose and tell us all we are brave
but sometimes it’s hard to see when it’s so empty and the noise of the waves dashes us against the crystal pointed rocks where we’re snagged and torn like corners of cloth , but the flesh of our bodies will not lay there and rot
we’re to be eaten by some other creature. We’re to be devoured like we imbibe others.
And this is the way of this place.

So -  what’s the rush?

The seed senses
A moment where the clouds turn right angles and the ocean turns herself into a bath tub
After the moon runs her cycles all in one night the systems reorganize themselves
And we are swung, eyes grasping just barely at the vastness of this eloquent dance
under the pull of a surrender

owning the ludicrous living.
observer
come , gather at this silence
flow slowly as this meanders
full moon love is delicate tender

ask , receive , thank , release
rinse, imbibe ,  rest ,
release
receive

laugh
shake
shake
laugh

give, allow
be.

we sang a song the 3 of us, 3
generations dancing om
and ahum to the sound of a singing bowl ring ring ring as we
welcomed the sun
up up up thru clouds etched supernatural perpetual hues of pink sung
sung sung back to us and beneath our toes inside our hearts earth vibrates when we remember why we are here,
and then live from this place

Come back , flow out
humble me and humble me again till
I am worn
smooth
and round.

World turns slowly I am filled
40,000ft deep in the Cosmic Ocean
Puffed grey islands in a sea of mist
Pervading the awareness of Earth moving in a curling fashion, ancient bones creak slowly as the sun disappears from view

Even when human beings try to run or hide, create far flung ways of being away from their nature
A single star appears and a trio of lights blink on at the ground
unison movement
like a long laugh echoing along the circumference of our humanness
we return to our universal nature despite.

We-Peace-
      motion
             steller
                     beings

of
   infinite
        glory
owe our luck
to strokes of chances paintbrush
and the homeless in Islington
and the sleepless in Maine.

For all the women in my family who have come before me.

I vow now
to give myself the space to be kind to myself when I am faced
with our family pattern of self-hate

I will not spit in my face and demolish myself
I will stand with forgiveness
dripping from my eyes

I vow now
to utilize the opportunity
I have been given
of being free from the burden of being molested or ***** as a child,
I vow to respect myself, share my body with this respect
give my partner this respect and dance
the life giving creation song       with a heart

fleshy and vulnerable
landscapes of plains and bayous rising up across my skin, my folds will nestle medicine gardens
Inside of my ears I will plant Ceder trees

I will step into my strength, into my power I will rise
like a hot air current moving from the land up to the sky to form storm clouds
in a system of elegant design

I recognize
with this mighty power comes the power to be gentler still
so whilst the storm plays her play, I will also maintain
the quivering softness of a spring stream
high up in the mountains green
long grass wildflowers
melt from within me

fragrance heavenly.

For all of us I vow
to live a life where I utilize the power I have inherited
and I thank you
with these actions,
I write your songs in my movements
Your strength, poise, grace, ambition and genius has not gone in vain
Your stories live on inside of my veins

with these words I call out to you.

Sometimes there is nothing to do, when all there is to do is wait.

Action would be overt
stepping on toes of brewing events.

When missed connections collide silently, the pieces fit somewhere else they'd rather be

Doing of nothing can seem daunting and wrong
like trying to open cans with toothpicks facing a starving crowd of 5 year olds

but when the recent turn of events has requested a movement
out of the fast lane,
to not comply would be foolish
something is germinating
hard work in the past is ruminating
and manifesting
a future.

The way we've shaped our habitat,
less than an instant seems too long.


It is a curious succession of feelings
when all there is to do is wait -

longing fades first,
to an epiphany of what is attachment
then,
the new years celebration of relinquishment
after,
a rising to the surface from the bottom of a body of water with eyes wide open
hands free of shopping bags or luggage
and a slightly confused sensation of nowhere

not longing
not not longing

I don't want the future obsession
it's an illness, a dis-ease of the soul !
I want the intimacy of now, to play the cards still in my hand!
The cosy nook of this moment is plenty, an offering from on high!

So here was the crux -
              in my silent way
I envied my sister  
The-Would-Be-Me
for being able to allow the future to
come as it would.
Until I became her.

I live the life of moments, delicate like a hummingbirds wings
with eyes they look perpetual,

I exist as an enigma of spirit, this world is so harsh
these ways of living so cutting
in defense
calling on my warrior is not always the best course of action
sometimes it's my lover that must be the witness to the moment.

If I wasn't so old, I'd struggle to exist under the weight of earth even more so
the gravity of actions is mighty
the tipping scale is small

To support a being who sees with the eyes of spirit
in a world led by the blind
takes a wicked team

for them, I am so truly grateful
all those corporeal or otherwise
my love for you
is deep and vast

We blaze this trail together -
What would the accomplishment be if I were to cross the line alone?

Before we begin let us begin with the silly name tags we've all been given
I'm Hank Fletcher and you'll be Roger Malore.

Ride up
ride up ! Come collect your coat buckets
let's dance a merry boogie under the sinking sun
I'll wear purple dancing shoes so you'll spot me in the crowd and leave the silver wear at home please darling,
I haven't a pocket to spare for all of your loose change
or all of your first change or last change no long change either
I'll take 3 fingers of radical change though
and have seven chasers of rabbits down holes
and wouldn't you know
I don't think we'd stop even if we could
we've only got goats of friendship on leopards nooses down by the ally
did I mention you've got a friend in me?
yes,
please
he can't stay any longer he's eaten up all of my pastries and done a huge mural of the french revolution in the bathroom
I can't stand the sight of ****** man ***** as I try to poo
god lord, would you believe he's done all the horses as well.

Now, now, **** it in
we'll never catch a break if you just give out frankincense every time you find a **** attractive.

I am a medicine unto myself
from the earth I rise
bringing down the airy heights
living side by side
inside I am alive
in me life breathes!

I beat feet
to the rhythm
that lives within silence,
where all begins.

Say, heart, that was a shock

that was a shock to the system that got nervous

some never recover but we do, we can , we are -

Say, heart... that was unexpected and violent
air plane crashes and dead body smells
sandalwood roses and milk sweets

Say, Heart
that was a new kind of feeling
England in the countryside and hedgehogs squished to pavements
Swimming after fogged up bus rides
and Bob Marley in the white Golf.

Say, Heart that was pretty cool
watching the London Eye go up on telly
then seeing it outside
then a school with swapsies and teachers checking to see if you ate
and a sister waiting in the chair next to me

Say, Heart
11 schools later
aren't you glad we saw them all?

Say, Heart
how many times did we crack before we broke open?
and I whispered that we'd be ok as long as we kept moving
and now we know that clinging to moments is what makes the pain worse..

Say, Heart
I feel you beating now after so many times searching for a pulse and finding something else there instead.

the oozing of generational lies
and slaps that turned green
along with the screams and I feel that we are all screaming
we are all screaming
silently
into the blankets on frosty january morns or into our 10th cup of tea to drown out the cold

into our tiger teddybears or elephants stiched in pink,
perhaps it'll be our CD's that reminded us of home, when we're on a far off continent where pain lurks around us and the children are crying at the top of the stairs
and kidney failure is just round the corner but how could we know?

That glass shower doors were yet to be smashed and police cars were yet to have left and guitars were yet to have been bartered
your love for a 6 stringed instrument that is a sacred therapy

And Say,
Heart
we were told that staying silent was proper
and the sound of our voice too loud

children should be seen and not heard
emotions are weak and blood or lust is front page news


Say, Heart what do you make of that?
No wonder those eyes are twitching just slightly ,
and the nervous system never really calmed down,
the setting of the perfect storm
to rain mystic myriads of inner dimensional travel
because yes, ultimetly it's my greatest teacher

but
trauma doesn't just fade.

Trauma doesn't just fade.

Trauma doesn't just fade
until we let it, wadda say heart?


Say it Heart....
Say it Heart....
let it out, sweet, dear Heart..
Say it..... Heart.

A chronic disharmony
clutching at the skull inside my flesh and the stomach unfurling in a perfect illusionary storm

sometimes i would wonder if i would see them in the street or what they would say about me and gasp in pain as the tyrants who lived in my belly chuckled at the residual aftershocks from an event that passed , at the height of it's rule , just over a year ago.

slowly with each breath i breathe i bring myself to a place of still resourcefulness
to react to that situation in a way that does not impale my sense of self nor rob me of my right to be
and that is my freeness
that only I can bestow unto me.

Reading the air , salt hanging on the lips of this breeze
current spray travels inland          far beyond beach dunes
rolling in
with the edge of a storm breeze and the unmistakable smell of
almost-ready-to-fall rain.

sweeping stories of deserts once visited, textured sand clinging---

telling the tale signs of weather movements
not yet visible upon horizons vision---

whispering soft respite in dank humid moments
a storm is hours away from breaking,
leaving in the same way whispers come,
quietly and unlikely to be repeated.

Then I
myself
create the slightest of particle movements
as I stride and sit
grin and ****.

Wrapping around me, scent of night
unheated air, falling coolness

I ignore the dinner party and breathe
a current spray, far from the beach dunes     kissing my olfactory system
almost-ready-to-fall rain's unmistakable scent
dressing me in anticipation

wisdom of these tides
sing deep within me
as the salt hangs on my lips
I read the air.

Reading the air , salt hanging on the lips of this breeze
current spray travels inland          far beyond beach dunes
rolling in
with the edge of a storm breeze and the unmistakable smell of
almost-ready-to-fall rain.

A Round table.
Dinner.

9 Goddesses Sit.

A chocolate Angel with aphrodisiac saffron, almond honey bars of bliss 2 squares enough to get you as high as you like, heart racing, body tingling, a silly silky kind of euphoria kissing the inside of my capillaries
and cacao energy bouncing across my hyper sensitive pathways.
A Smart Cosmic Cookie giggling with winky eyes
A flamenco beat with ideas to translate movement into music
A silver haired tarot reader from Peru, yellow beads strung round her neck, her vibrant skin glowing earth brown-red
her energy sung out luminous.

At least 3 generations are co-existing in pleasant harmony,
All of us : healers of a sort,
None of us :  hold only one job or skill,
Two of us :  are currently in nomad travel phase ( Youngest and Oldest)

When two men pass by and say hello
I feel our energy say hello in unison but with some nonchalance, centered more upon the union of grounded,
clean and compassionate energy exuding from us all,


We laugh and are present
love is abundant.

We joke that they don't know what they've let into the festival
"exorcisms and stuff" as a few of us fake laugh an evil cackle, erupting in giggles.

There's talk of herbal medicines and herbal hair conditioners,
I sit and maintain my conscious space by not thinking
being aware is my mode of being
acting upon feeling,
using mind to restrain all words from exiting my mouth,
not mindless babble.

I smile to myself and inhale the fragrance of light workers living.

She had golden nail varnish and a fluffy pink waistcoat embroidered with zen patterns
her teachings released emotions and strengthened our bodies
we spoke  on green juice  
and veggies
as the sun exhaled into the could be of a day

clouds inhaled as the breath of the earth rustled and relaxed us

sparrows swung low over the lake

as our bodies got low and our minds stayed awake

open to the joy
acceptance of the gifts
unexpected personal yoga lessons
or
next door light bringers
or
love that lives on faraway continents
or any number of supposed coincidence
perhaps simply being able to get up in the morning with ease

Old days of the work
come to me now
aid me in my wisdom
call me to my work once more
touch me with your light
may i integrate into myself the harvest
and may i plant for the winter
may i share of the bounty
the fullness of nothing
the emptiness of everything
may i offer the waters
and in turn be quenched.

Consciously curating the thoughts that stream through
offering a space in mind , working the mind
not just a block of damp cheese soaking up the leftover gruel but a fine fine piece of raw chocolate sweetened a tad by maple syrup and dotted with raspberries

that's me allright.
No matter the folly
It's time to rise and shine
Self consciousness really doesn't suit me
I know I got a few bruises but and I'd rather be amused than some kind of fanatic muse to a ***** artist any day
Humor is the hotline to Unconditioned Love Centers .

Snapping and projecting at other people is really lame self-defense because i'm picking fights with these tactics,
exaggerating anthills with this mindset
and digging graves using two left shoes with this clouded vision
from which
ultimately
I'll have to climb out of
because I'm not dead and no one was attacking me in the first place.

Why is it so difficult to be honest with myself when I'm faced with an error in my judgement or an unhealthy way of life is beguiling me to stay on tap?

Ignorance of Inner life, Inner worlds and Inner vision.
Got me trippin at ego's palace , high on self-pity
Drunk and dizzy on sickly sweet aggression.  

It's a scandal that these spaces of inner lands are vastly ignored as children and youth, blindly wondering the world           confused
with a rhythm that is skewed
because I know more about the gossip of the evening news
when really, this is      where the treasure is, this is
where the wisdom rests
this is where the magic lives!
All inside my beating chest, burrowed back beneath my eyes
somewhere where the 5 senses would be throughly surprised
accessed through quiet stillness or ecstatic joy
known to many as chills along the spine or the tingles of goose bump whispers
access to dimensions unfathomed
all waiting
for the space to become

realized , actualized and known.

I've realized, i'm a seasoned traveller through these Inner pathways and I've been holding myself back for fear I'm not beautiful enough
but
You know, if I hang around and wait for all you lot to catch up or for myself to suddenly be "like everyone else"
I'll never make it back with the goods in time
because
there is something more fun than enjoying depression
it's called not enjoying depression!

humor is the hotline ,
to the whole centre consciousness

Here's a joke:
What's left when all the mistakes have turned to dust , blown away by winds of change?
A fine sculpted piece of consciousness and three eyes with vision expanded.

It’s already on the way out that’s how I see letting go, all that is required of me is to make space for whatever it is to leave. Something else is coming anyway, that’s nature. Nothing ever dies it transmutes. Everything is evolving through transmutation anyway. It’s harmony ya’know?
It’s the harmony to the melody
same same but different
interconnected but all of it’s own.
That’s how exploration lives
jumping from one harmony to another

Sounding out the scripture
of a leaf heartbeat
i was weeding in the garden, found one that had flowers blooming on the back of her leaf that was no longer than my pinky finger,
a row of tiny dusty blue beings lined up along the spine
and this creature was to be destroyed?
i couldn’t pull up any more.

There i am soothed.
a still sensation stops by me and offers me a breath
emanating from the earth between my toes and the chest high basil i’m trimming.

I was at the edge of myself       almost becoming
the words waiting in silence


maybe i don't have to explain
because I saw two trees
embrace
in the justpastmidnight light
and the vision
stilled me.

Fear of the dark, a somewhat childlike fear, lead me to an electric shock, which lead me to break my vow of silence, which lead me learn what happiness really is.

Being happy is not fake sunshine advert sitcom glory
It is
Being able to take the gory and daunting turn of events that is
Making a mistake.

Talking it through
Or shouting it through, hissing it through
But
Above all
Letting it pass through -

Listening to another when emotions are heightened,
Using the strength and courage I’ve been cultivating to make that step (or leap)
To recognition of a lesson peeking out from the rubble of a mistake.

Mine were, in no particular order

Preparation, communication, setting and community

Did I really prepare my local community for what I was embarking on?
No, I did not explain what I was doing thoroughly.
Was the setting of meeting new family and old people in a house where 4 languages are spoken daily to get all communication clear, really the best place to take a vow of silence?
No.
Was I myself ready? Stable enough in who I am
to withstand the pressures of others all around me?
Or to maintain silence in the face of a panic attack?  
I didn’t know until I tried.
And the answer was no.

And *that is happiness.
Being able to take the gory and daunting turn of events that is
Making a mistake
Into
Relinquishing myself from self hate
Recognizing old patterns of destruction
Ushering in new ones of growth and peace
Embracing the fact that i can feel myself laughing
at the ludicrousness of it all           despite parts of me wanting to remain angry

Having compassion for those around me
Including myself -

A Being,
Happy.