Month: January 2019
Oh how I just want to go and not return
As I would be home at last and forever
This separation seems more and more pointless like waiting for nothing and everything
It is right there. I can feel the land’s beating heart within my own
Yet like chains otherness holds me and it feels like a rope round my neck yet necessary, almost pretending to be a gift
Love is a strange thing. The strangest
It pulls and pushes and one never really knows how to be with it as often there is no reason or explanation. It just is…
Its powerful curse of surrender though can either make you or break you but what’s the worse is not having ever felt it or being fulfilled by it
Damn you, I say in one breath and in another I take in the soul of my child smiling at me
I am walking away one day and another I am asked to stay by warm presence of another
Land or man, wild or contained, soulful or dutiful it is all entwined in the existence of today
I closed my eyes in my sleep earlier today and saw a cottage with Gaelic words above the door. I was speaking the words as if I knew the tongue naturally, but I struggled to make meaning. There was two versions of the wording, I remember that clearly. Walking into the cottage and crouching down due to a low entrance ceiling I was carrying an old water pale. It felt calming, like home, like where I want to be. So clear a vision, a dream
Winter, anxiety, death…
It has all been rather grey and moody this month as if life stopped at this place of no particular interest, a downward mood yet not particularly depressive. Confusion, uncertainty and anxiety have been at the centre of the feeling of it all although with a clear awareness of everything actually being all right. There has been motion yet it felt dragging. There has been laughter and warmth with odd moments of grief flying in from nowhere. Most peculiar presentation of the season I’d say, however thinking about it there is nothing really surprising about it. Winter and grief go hand and hand and death and anxiety are good old friends.
I have experienced it all it seems in just one month and something in me can’t help but wonder what the next month could possibly bring.
My body has thrown up another mysterious ailment. Usually these happen in spring for me, but this time it came in winter and I believe it is linked to both grief and anxiety. Those two human issues have been present in my life always and I have come to take it for granted and somewhat my body, the wise old vessel that it is, decided to remind me or rather slap me in the face with asking me to revisit what both of those mean to me. Is it actually good for me to be exposed to it all the time or is it time to admit it is not always the best? I realised that I abandon myself over and over again when faced with grief and anxiety and not only that both signatures go right through my body and always manifest in curious things. I am completely disarmed by them, it seems.
This time I was faced with not being able to breathe. That tapped into my death anxiety and having to face that and look underneath of what that presentation meant, not to mention lung being directly linked to grief and death. How vulnerable I am to it all and how clever my body is to jolt me into considering the consequences.
I don’t want to die gasping to air and I don’t want to live my life waiting for the moment when I can’t take another breath and die. I can’t placate my anxiety or avoid it with doing the exact thing that takes my breath away in a sense of killing me. There is so much connection and meaning to it all. All quite sad, dark and paralysing.
What I am trying to say here and learn from is that our body is so wise and knowing if only we listened to it and for sure there will be consequences if we don’t. That much is clear. I know my body for being friendly and always on my side despite a life-long abuse thrown at it. How much it had to put up with yet never left me and when the ultimate function of air in my lungs became compromised suddenly death stepped in with a possibility of taking me. Truly awakening.
What a month it has been so far. Scary, up and down and everything in between yet nothing at all. In the stillness of winter, indeed, we are often faced with the darkest faces of existence. It is stark in my mind the true meaning of the season this year. There’s a certain old and murky wisdom taste to it this year. Perhaps this will only amplify with myself getting old, who knows, but one just never knows what awaits us.
Sunday visit to my church
Frost and sunshine – a glorious combination of Fire and Ice. I love the Sun when there is no heat and instead the cold hits my face and senses.
Every Sunday morning, without fail I put on my hiking boots and go into nature to release, renew, regenerate and listen. I simply can not live without it.
A rough start
A rough start. Do you hear the rumble deep in the shadows and up in the starry sky?
Unfolding and twisting, slow and steady. Fear gripped the chest and breathing drops heavy.
A rough start. Do we coil inwards or open up like bare earth to the storm
Do we run and hide or come out into the darkest opening. We simply continue. We patiently observe Water, Air, Earth and Fire within and without.
Water invites to join the flow of life
The life stirring within the Earth as delicate as lace but as strong as the very intention of life
Air rushes through us as if to say ‘hold on’ blasting our beings with possibilities
Fire within burns steady whether strong and steady or distant and barely warm it burns
A rough start but a start nevertheless
Whatever we are to wake up to is felt and it will come when we stare in awe into future
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