You are Stardust

I know how darkness envelops you at times,

That you exist in a void, lost in space,

Reaching blindly in front, behind, to the sides,

For connection, softness, understanding,

Finding only a lack, an emptiness.

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I know how you’ve flirted with anger, grief, misplaced affection,

How you’ve disliked their poison so shut yourself down,

Unwittingly choosing numbness over pain.

I tell you, there is nothing drab in this experience.

It’s a sacred nudge to remember the source of your being.

For you are made of stardust; it’s in your DNA.

Elements within you have been forged in the fiery heat,

And furious death throes of celestial luminaries.

It’s time to stop treating yourself like dirt and coal dust—

You’re being asked to rekindle the flames within.

Accept the heartache, the shame, see the purpose behind their rising,

A burning away of the dross you are not. 

Feel the intense fire of your inner divinity.

Let this supernova be the source of your guidance,

Blazing though barriers of time and space.

You are in a cycle of death and rebirth,

A falling away of old concepts as you awaken to your own radiance,

Creating the divine connection, the understanding you strive for,

As you shine and dazzle with immeasurable light,

Illuminating your own universe and galaxies beyond,

Powered only by Love.

Comments welcome.

A Scream of Swifts

Some days I feel stuck, rooted to the ground,

Both feet ensconced in wellies sucked into squelching mud,

My mind heavy and slow, absorbed in the mundane,

My heart weighed down with grief and sorrow,

My soul unable to lift myself out of the muck and mire.

Danshutter

Today this gloom is broken by a rush of displaced air,

As a scream of Swifts glides through the sky.

Their piercing calls demand attention.

Black crescent-shaped silhouettes arc and dive overhead,

Their aerial gymnastics a display of vibrant ease and grace.

How is it these intrepid voyagers from far off shores,

Sleep, eat, bathe and mate on the wing,

Replacing the vulnerability of being grounded,

With a life of perpetual motion.

Adapting and pivoting with the natural dynamics of nature?

Could I too, raise my awareness sky high,

Keep it aloft in the realms of the divine,

Withstand the inevitable battering by winds of change,

Downpours of perceived misfortune, storms of anger or grief,

And rise above it all again and again in a never-ending spiral of grace?

I reach up to the kernel of divinity within,

Draw from it the faith, truth and love,

That bring joy and reverence to the way ahead,

And pull my wellies out from the mud.

Comments welcome

Self-Worth

Who told you that self-worth is a reward to be gained,

A career to be climbed, a family to tend to, 

A house to maintain, good deeds to be done. 

A colourful array of bright badges to pin on your chest?

N. D. Vector

It’s simply untrue: upside down, inside out.

Self-worth can’t be garnered in this outer world of endeavour.

It’s the most precious, innate seed of divinity,

Imprinted in the depths of your unique essence.

Life is your invitation to unravel the layers of illusion,

Of what you are not: a wife, husband, parent, sister, brother, teacher,

A gargantuan task of unlearning habits, shedding concepts,

In order to awaken to the luminous gift that you are.

Precious One, find this magnificent sacred treasure within.

Nurture it with attentive devotion.

Make life a practice of becoming,

A Presence reflective of your true potency.

Play your part in divine creation.

Value your worth, 

Unlock your wisdom, your power, your love,

And shine your truth on the world.

Comments most welcome

A Prelude to Spring

As the snowdrops, crocuses and daffodils begin to shoot,

I wonder at the journey they’ve taken,

The months of stillness under the cold, dark winter soil, 

Safe in their protective bulbs.

Olga Solodenko

The multitude of worms and bugs moving the earth,

The rainwater and snow melt seeping down,

To nurture the seeds, soften their shells,

Nature’s unseen orchestra in action—a prelude to spring.

At times, I too, sit in glacial, bleak darkness,

Entrapped by long-held barriers of protection—

Fear, anger, judgement, undue attachments—

Binding my light, suffocating my soul.

Until I heed the whisper of Grace within,

To surrender to this uncomfortable unwrapping,

Allow His warm rays of Love to soften my hard edges,

Shower every defensive fibre with truth and clarity.

For this, Grace murmurs, is a sacred inner process.

A peeling away of long-held layers of attitudes and beliefs,

To reveal the divine root of essence,

Become the magnificent truth which I am.

I break free from the shackles of winter hibernation,

Rise up in Love through the rich soil of life,

Pierce through great clods of illusion,

Into the clear air of a bright new day.

Vibrant shoots of green pierce through the earth,

Survive onslaughts of frost, wind and rain.

Lithe stems grow up to the light, strong and true.

Jubilant flowers of white, purple, yellow begin to open.

I look down at my feet in the late winter snow,

Tilt my head up to the first rays of spring sun,

Feel the kiss of Grace on my forehead,

Ripples of Love vibrating through my Being.

A glorious awakening: radiant buds of eternal joy.

Comments most welcome

A Practice in Liberation

I know how the darkness beckons you sometimes,
How you turn your back on the light.
I know how you walk down paths you know you shouldn't,
How you lose yourself in labyrinths of grief and despair.
I know you see your well-trodden habits and want to change them,
How you're done with reliving these painful patterns,
How you're oh so weary of your worn-out ways of being. 
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I know you feel empty at times, like you exist in a void,
With life twirling around you, always just out of reach.
I know you wallow too long in pools of fear and shame,
Stuck in the abyss between who you currently think you are,
And the deeper truth of whom you know yourself to be.
I know there are parts of you that you don't love,
That have plundered your joy as you exiled them away.

I know too that you've felt the kiss of Grace ignite inside you,
How you've soaked in the abundance of trust and love that reside within,
I know you can believe yourself full, rise-up out of this darkness,
For you are not flawed, damaged or failing in feeling this pain.
When fear debilitates, loneliness blinds, despair dampens,
You are being blessed with a divine invitation to love Grace more,
To replace self-judgement with His most gentle and loving embrace.

Welcome these dark, banished corners of yourself,
Listen, comfort, forgive, re-member and restore His love within,
Feel how this awakens all the cells in your body as they vibrate in jubilation and awe,
So you can dance more gracefully and play more joyfully with all the richness of life.
The dark, the light; the fear, the courage; the resistance, the acceptance-
Rise above all of it, a taste of heaven as you regain your divinity,
Where the shadows pulling at your feet, are mere tickles at your toes.

Dearest One, everything is just fine. It's all a practice in liberation.

Comments most welcome.

The Inner Jungle Trail

Why were we told that success is outside of us?
A mountain of achievements to be climbed.
To thrive at school, in a career, a relationship, as a parent, in life,
Is to strive, through hard-earned effort,
To reach for an ever more distant star.
Stock Photo
Why were we told that accomplishment is a series of accolades?
An amassing of things; a job, a house, a family, a status, an identity,
To swaddle around ourselves, like pretty coverings of shiny gift wrap,
Glittering baubles and eye-catching bows,
To better present ourselves to the world.

Why were we told that God is outside of us?
A man in the clouds, gazing down on His creation.
That to reach Him is through penance or prayer,
A following of rites and rituals, led by others with others, for others,
In a church, a temple, an ashram, built to commune with this Other.

Only to discover that these are all dead ends, avenues of hope to exhaust,
Purposefully placed to bring us to our knees,
So we feel the despair of not finding our raison d’etre,
The bewilderment of having nowhere left to turn. 
For only now, in this dark pit of desperation, are we ready to heed the Call.

A murmur in our consciousness suggests the secret lies inside,
That true wealth is in the realisation of this journey.
These layers of gift wrap are just gaudy distractions,
This Path one of detaching from all we hold dear,
Divesting oneself of beliefs and concepts of what and how life should be.

Gone is the tidy road of dos and don’ts.
This is no clear, well-trodden track we walk with others.
It’s a sprawling tangled mass, in which lifetimes have been invested in its spread.
Vines of desire, thorns of anger, sweet flowers of attachment are to be slashed away.
It’s an individual overgrown jungle trail, leading to one’s true self.

When I stop to listen to the sweet whispers of divinity within,
A beacon radiating waves of truth and love descends.
I stand still in the darkest parts of this tangled mess of me,
Shine light on my sharpest thorns of pain, my deepest roots of regret,
And welcome Love in here. This moment, this Love becomes my prize.

In gifts of revelations, new depths of understanding, forgiveness, humility,
The next knot to be untangled, weed to be uprooted, becomes clear.
My torch, my inner fire, burns brighter, heart aglow with new-found resolve.
The shedding of all I thought I was, gives way to growing realisations of who I am.
This inner Path of becoming Love Divine, is truly my richest reward.

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This Sacred Road

On this path of living my truth,
I bump into all the times I’ve been untrue:
The job endured because I felt I should,
The countless times I’ve said yes to please another,
When every cell in my body was screaming no.
Image: dugdax
The relationship severed and lost,
Because I lacked the courage to speak up,
Or spoke too freely, without discernment,
Of import, of kindness, of truth.
Each misstep, a bruise, a welt, a cut I carry still.

The heavy sandbags of grief, shame and despair,
The concepts I hold, built on values of family, society,
Of how life should be, form solid walls, 
A prison cell around my true self.
They bar my freedom, block my light.

I touch these tender purple lesions,
Soft abrasions, rubbed raw through time,
Deep gashes still bleeding hurt,
Untended wounds, too painful to clean,
And hold each one up to His loving gaze.

I thank each blunder for the blessing it bears,
The insight, the wisdom, the truth of what I am not.
The barricades begin to dissolve,
The bleeding stems, aches recede, and wounds start to heal,
Each scar a testament to this sacred road travelled.

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A Murmuration

As daylight fades, and thick grey clouds descend,

A handful of starlings swoop and twist

In perfect unison, a shape-shifting silhouette,

Against the burnished sunset sky.

Marshall Baron

In reciprocation to this flight of freedom, of joy,

More starlings gather and soar and dive,

An intricately coordinated pattern, a collective dance,

To fend off foe, defy the elements through exultant grace.

And I ask myself, is it like those whispers of clarity,

That fly into our awareness and demand,

That every cell inside wakes up and heeds the call,

To pursue our deepest truth?

Energy gathers, uprises to break free, from the binds of,

Overwhelming grief, crushing despair, or not feeling enough.

It fends off each unjust thought that cuts us down or puffs us up,

Discards all unworthy concepts that weigh less than true.

We parry and spar until this struggle becomes a dance.

 We rise in Grace, then plunge to cleanse the depths of our beings,

To soar again with an ever-increasing momentum, 

Of purity, of purpose, of lightness, in Love.

Hundreds of tiny beating wings rise up,

Emblazoned against the pink, orange, and golden hues of dusk,

Then plummet, invisible against the rippling green sea,

To swoop and rise again in a breath-stealing wonder.

A murmur, a wave, of sound, of dance, of song,

Gloriously pulsates in mesmerising harmony,

Lighting up the sky within, in a spectacle of rapture,

Before going home to roost.





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The Ultimate Treasure Hunt

In the confines of our home,

We set a trail of clues for one another.

Each leading to a hidden spot in a different room,

Where a small chocolate and a further riddle awaits.

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Eyes alight with excitement, we puzzle our posers,

Forage fruitlessly, or gather gainfully.

Beset with impatience, we plead for help.

Until, spurred on by each unveiling,

 

By the joy from surprises gifted,

Our tireless wonder is rewarded.

We find, hidden behind the logs, or the curtain,

A magnificent Easter egg.

 

As lockdown continues, innumerable desires,

 Cry for my attention; to home-school more effectively,

Spring clean, teach online, study, garden, cook, play better with my son.

Each a seemingly urgent demand of action and effort.

 

Until, exhausted by the relentless juggle,

Beset by migraines, fatigue and allergies,

I check in with my marker, my inner guide.

And a glimmer of understanding shines through.

 

The next day, in the dappled sunlight of our local wood,

Brightly coloured ribbons hang from branches,

Chalked arrows inscribe tree trunks,

Indicators for countless paths, leading in myriad directions.

 

I now see that these are mere distractions,

Dead-end tracks, or entangling brambles.

Requisite diversions from the enchanted woodland clearings,

Borne through deep surrender within.

 

Aglow with the soft hue and gentle sway of bluebells,

The dazzling greens and abundant energy of spring,

I drink in His boundless Love, and a gem is revealed.

I see myself reflected in His radiance.

 

We try different tracks, miss markers, lose ourselves,

Distracted by balancing on branches, befriending robins.

Until, at the end of the pink chalk arrow trail,

We find a love heart etched on an upturned log.

The Master Puzzler

Life is a giant jigsaw,

Thousands of motley shaped pieces;

 Work, family, home, hobbies, relationships,

I try to fit neatly together.

two hands connect the puzzle details, against the sky of the sun.

Image: stock photos

Constantly, I search for the next piece,

A new job, home, dress, diet,

To create a better picture,

Of what life should look like.

 

As I strive harder to find the right one,

To wedge that perfect looking job,

 Into other ever moving parts,

A growing sense of unease arises.

 

For I see that the picture guide,

My mind has been trained to create,

Through parents, school, generations of society,

Is fundamentally flawed.

 

The focus on the piece,

Choosing bright harmonic colours,

Instilled with significant content,

Yet shaped to be compatible,

 

Engenders a striving,

To find perfection in the fragment,

A resistance to viewing the bigger picture,

Where shadows compliment the light.

 

Each branch of the puzzle unending,

The pieces multiply with my attention.

The more I strive, the further and hazier,

The goal seems to be.

 

My attention stays stuck on the outer,

A perpetual desire to change the effect.

What if I change the image?

 Shift my focus to my inner Beloved?

 

Trust that He’s handed me,

 The perfect piece.

And ask for His Love,

 To help me place it.

 

 The one He hands me,

 Is not the easiest to place,

Or the prettiest to look at.

Not what I would have chosen.

 

A dark shadowy fragment.

Sharp edged and oddly angled,

Awkward to handle,

Ugly to the eye.

 

An irksome blast from my past,

 For so long avoided.

A relationship severed,

An attitude entrenched.

 

Through Love’s guiding hand,

These difficult parts of the puzzle,

Transform into the magnificence,

Of realisations hard won.

 

It’s not about the puzzle,

Or the picture it creates,

But seeing that in each conundrum given,

Lies the potential for Grace.

 

For each fragment of karma gifted,

 Becomes sacred when alchemised

By the well of Love within.

Bringing me closer….

 

To mastering the art,

 Of the Master puzzler,

Of becoming the force of Love,

 That guides the way.

 

 To stepping out of the never-ending

Enigma of life,

 And into the ultimate destiny,

Of my own divinity.