SPIRITUAL LOVE

The Grace of Winter

/ Chloe Kyle / 8 Comments

Like a tree in winter,

Branches bare to the open sky,

Roots sinking down into the earth,

Seeking nurture, sustenance, from deep inside…

shaunl

Like a bear in hibernation,

Holed up in a dark, cosy cave,

In refuge from the harshness of the world,

A long slumber, to recharge, restore…

Eyelids heavy, body weary, aching,

I hear the world knock unrelenting at my door.

But this is sacred, fallow, resting time,

And I too choose to honour the call within.

Grace takes me in through long-held pockets,

Of anger, fear and shame that cling to me still,

Through corridors of pain and grief that loom too often,

To the darkest, muddiest, ugliest self-hating crevice.

Here, Grace turns to make His stand,

Tilts up my chin to His twinkly eyes, His beaming smile,

As if to say, “This too is Love.

Rest here awhile”.

As I soak in His radiant gaze,

Swathes of Love seep through every pore, every cell, every sinew.

Grace gifts me this, and seeds for more,

To plant, right here, in my deepest wounds.

Grace tasks me to nurture His potent seeds,

To water with Love, nourish with attention,

To use this precious season of gestation,

To tend myself into bloom in His image.

So, if the world comes knocking,

I may growl and roll over, let my roots sink deeper,

For this divine alchemy,

Is necessary for rebirth.

Rest deeply, sweet soul, 

Such Grace in winter’s still.

Comments Welcome

November Rain

/ Chloe Kyle / 2 Comments

The gorge is full, yet the downpour continues,

The thrum of the waterfall growing ever louder.

Thunder and lightning crack the sky open again,

Unleashing cascades of water to meet at the fall,

 In a dramatic tumult of leaping spray.

The power is palpable in the surge of the ravine,

Its banks close to bursting downstream.

Whitelady Waterfall, Lydford Gorge

I feel it too, this overwhelming fullness of life,

Beating down in a never-ending onslaught.

The horrendous atrocities of war laid bare on the news,

The wounding, the grief, the despair, the fear,

 Overseas, on our streets, close to home,

But also, within the fabric of my inner world.

Engulfed by distress, pulled under by pain. Overburdened.

All is dark, until I remember to call His Name.

In leaning into Grace, the response is manifold.

He shows me the divine radiance of His reflection,

 Shining unwaveringly bright, deep within my core,

How unveiling the darkness gives way to more Light.

His tender gaze glances over my hurts, my sadness, my shame.

He smiles broadly and whispers, “All is Well”.

The intensity of the waterfall’s roar subsides to a sigh;

In symphony with the trees, a gracious show of letting go.

Beaming rays of the setting sun play with the abating drizzle,

Allowing gentle autumnal hues to interweave the dance of the spray.

A multitude of vibrant, verdant mosses line the sides of the gully,

Softening the path, lighting the way, for the water coursing

Through the ravine towards the great expanse of the sea.

A glorious upsurge of Love swells and rises through every cell,

Every bone, every sinew, every breath in my Being,

All imbued with a deeper resonance of Grace.

I begin to let go of the time-worn concepts, the age-old beliefs that served me once,

But now cling to my essence, blind my light, dampen my vibration.

I choose to open to the fullness of His embrace,

And am cleansed by an immense shower of Truth and Love.

Tears of gratitude flow for this journey into Grace, 

This Path of becoming the Ocean within the drop.

Comments welcome

Awakening

/ Chloe Kyle / 2 Comments

A part of me wants to stay curled up under the cover,

Eyes tight shut,

To block my ears from the jostle of noise,

To hide from the starkness of light.

fszalai

A part of me wants to wallow in the sticky goo of victimhood,

Enshrouded in pain, grief and shame,

Entrapped in stale beliefs and worn-out concepts,

Of how to play the game of life.

My truth, my essence, is bold and courageous,

She fiercely yearns to live in freedom,

She knows of the magnitude of Love deep inside,

And delights in sweet, tender glimpses of liberation.

Grace nudges me to gently pandiculate my weary body,

To hold His hand as I face the seeds of resistance, 

To be responsible for tending the wounds, 

And loving myself full—to grow.

I call into the deep expanse of my being,

And feel a powerful upsurge of Love wash over me,

Soaking into every cell in my body,

Scintillating, radiant, enlightening.

I sense the cover, these layers of illusion, 

Slip gently away,

Such sweet surrender to be reborn.

To uncover who I truly am.

I open an eye,

And rise.

Comments welcome.

A Scream of Swifts

/ Chloe Kyle / Leave a comment

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

Mid Winter’s Gift

/ Chloe Kyle / 6 Comments 

Deep in a frozen pond of murky water,
Encased in hard packed layers of glittering ice,
Under the constant chill of a dark wintery sky,
Lies my greatest burden,
And most precious treasure.
Valeriy Boyarskiy
I've skirted around it a million times,
Distracting myself with life's adventures.
I've sat at its shore a million more,
Tapping its impenetrable shell,
Lamenting a wound too frozen to weep.

Once a mud puddle of confusion, 
Flooded by pain and frustration,
Darkened by misunderstanding and self-judgement,
It became an ever growing well of grief and shame,
Iced over in mistaken self-protection.

Today, in the still silence of mid-winter,
Under a soft blanket of freshly falling snow,
I heed my Lover's call from deep within,
Feel His warm glow in the touch of each snowflake,
And clear the white powder from the ice.

On this frosty pane, I find in my reflection,
His beaming face smiling back at me.
A thousand suns shine through His eyes,
Illuminating this pit of arctic desolation,
Into a treasure trove of revelations.

Each frozen layer became a monument,
To the myriad ways we learn to leave ourselves.
Now the coverings melt in tears of humble recognition,
Long held tensions released in gratitude,
As this hardened warrior begins to weep.

He takes my hand and we dive down,
Through the grit and grime of past existence,
His light making visible the teaching behind the pain,
The iron shackles and golden chains,
All distractions from His embrace.

Until, in the depths of this same pond,
Under the countless veils of illusion,
He reveals the magnificence of my essence.
Together, we shine truth and clarity in scintillating radiance,
And step into the omnipresence of Grace.

Comments most welcome

This Great Unburdening

/ Chloe Kyle / 2 Comments 
This great unburdening of the clouds,
As they release their torrents of rain,
This mass disencumbering of the trees,
As they shed their myriad leaves,
I feel it too. This overwhelming need,
To just let go.
Matt Gibson
Hold my hand, Beloved, rise up within,
Let this burgeoning river of truth and purity,
Coarse through each cell in my body,
Scour the deep dark trammels of my mind,
Dredging up old sediment, hard held concepts,
To set me free,

The shame, anger, despair, I buried so deep,
My old friend, pain, who clings to me still,
You bring them all up in a holy mess,
Of muddy trenches, and trampled leaves,
A stinking swamp of my own making,
And smile,

Knee deep in muck, I see the part I play,
Within the grit and grime of each experience,
It weighs heavy on my being,
A dark storm cloud, full to bursting,
With bounteous drops,
Of understanding.

An Autumn tree laden with glorious leaves,
A kaleidoscope of realisations,
Awaiting liberation.
I hold your gaze and the flood gates open,
The raw power of your Radiance,
Surges through every fibre of my being,

Emptying me out of everything,
I thought to be true,
A tree stripped bare for winter,
The vast calm openness of the sky after a storm.
Filling me up with light and clarity,
You whisper: All is for Love.

The Threshold

/ Chloe Kyle / 1 Comment 
Leave your boots at the door, my friend.
The dirt from past roads travelled is not needed here.
Toss your hat to the wind,
And all those thoughts in your head,
The heavy ones you dwell on too often,
And those earthly desires that hook you in.
BluebackIMAGE
Hang up your coat on that peg.
Cast aside your cloaks of identity.
That shabby jacket of unworthiness,
Or the sharp suit of vanity.
Neither one is truly you.
The fire inside will bring warmth enough.

Put down those bags you clutch so close,
Burdened with grief, bursting with misplaced loves,
Even that small pouch of shame you tuck away.
Let’s go through them together, the pain and mistaken joy.
Allow me to help you leave them be,
You will feel lighter without them.

This is the threshold you cross,
Where you shed all you thought you were,
And become what you truly are.
Free your feet and your soul, my dearest one.
Take my hand. Let us listen only to the music of love.
Enter my house and dance.

If this post resonates with you, I’d love to hear, do comment.

The Inner Jungle Trail

/ Chloe Kyle / 2 Comments 
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.

If this post resonates with you, I’d love to hear, do comment.

The Master Puzzler

/ Chloe Kyle / Leave a comment

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.

The Road Trip of a Lifetime

/ Chloe Kyle / 6 Comments

Recently I’ve been feeling ‘stuck’. Right now, it’s like I’m parked in a Walmart carpark procrastinating about where to go next. Perhaps there are some great Walmart carparks out there, but you probably wouldn’t choose to hang out there for long. I’ve foolishly let myself run out of gas and this body of mine, my vehicle, keeps breaking down. This frustrating state of inertia urges me to reflect back on an awesome family road trip we did last summer and use it to contemplate my own inner journey.

We finally did it, the family road trip we’d been dreaming of, and it was magic. The Pacific Coast Highway opened up in front of us, jagged cliffs and wild sea interspaced by stretches of golden sand. The salty smell of the ocean air and broadness of the horizon in every direction gave us all a sense of openness and adventure. My husband and I shared the driving, our eight-year-old son, Theo, in the back.  We took turns to pick the soundtrack, choices ranging from classic road trip tunes to sing-alongs, audiobooks, or just the sound of the journey‑—the smooth engine humming and the rush of the ocean breeze past the open window.

Our vehicle, Midnight, was a black Chevy Express V8 with ‘ramblin’ vans’ written in neon-yellow writing down her side. She was pleasingly chunky, with perfect dimensions, subtly striking and just so thoughtfully kitted out. She oozed adventure and fun! As our travelling companion and home for 10 days, she exceeded our expectations. Her back seat folded down into a double mattress and she had a pop-up tent that sat on her roof. Neatly stacked in her boot was everything we could have possibly needed: bedding, deck chairs, a table, stove and propane with matches and lighters, pots and pans, cooler, washing up equipment, bin bags, a five-gallon water container fully loaded—you name it, she had it. There was even a Tupperware full of herbs and condiments.

Our first stop was Port Orford where Theo and I jumped breakers on the shore of the Pacific Ocean, and I swam. The bracing cold water, summer sun and gentle ocean breeze soothed and revitalised us all. Just ten miles down the highway, we leaned our bodies against the howling wind at Cape Blanco, the western most point of the USA, wrapped up warm in our coats and woolly hats — a world apart from the nearby cove.

A few days later we camped under the magnificent canopy of the Redwoods in Northern California. Trees, some over two thousand years old, towered over us, reaching up to over 300 feet, their trunks so big we could all fit inside a hollowed out one, with space for a handful more. Their serene majesty filled us with a sense of wonder and awe and made our existence seem insignificant.

My mind returns to the present…

As I walk under the autumnal deciduous canopy of our local woodland in southwest London, I contemplate my inner road trip and how to resolve this feeling of ‘being stuck’. It comes to me that Ned, the name I’ve given to my mind by the way, is in the front seat and he’s behaving like an adolescent teenager. At times he can be smart, fun and reasonable but recently he’s been so demanding, sulking and giving me ultimatums. Right now, he’s riled that I won’t let him drive.

To be fair I used to let him drive a lot, so I can see why he’s feeling ousted.  But I’ve come to understand that he kept taking me to dead-end places. Often, he’d take us on scenic routes and we had a lot of fun along the way, but the destinations were always underwhelming and left me feeling that I was on the wrong track. I’m at a place now where I sense I need to centre and navigate my true direction, and Ned’s not happy about that.

And then there’s Kendra in the back, who’s usually pretty chilled but she’s been impatient and irritated recently. She’s my emotional body and when she takes the driving seat it can be a bit of a rollercoaster. She can be wildly fun, but we might just end up in a ditch. She tends to sit in the back seat now and is normally pretty quiet but when our Midnight breaks down, this fragile body of mine, she finds it challenging. We’ve been breaking down an awful lot recently and Kendra’s not happy. Like a busted tap spluttering water, something’s blocking her flow.

And me, that little spark of soul that’s doing its best to shine, I’m in the driving seat. Now I know it’s where I’m meant to be; for too long I’ve been letting Ned drive. But I still feel like we’re going nowhere. I’m doing my best to appease Ned, whilst knowing the direction he suggests is unlikely to serve me. I’m simultaneously trying to calm Kendra, whose frustrations, often linked to Midnight’s constant breaking down, I’m unable to resolve. I’m up to my eyeballs with this situation. I’m no mechanic and I’ve taken it to so many experts with little avail. Try as I might I know that on my own I still haven’t mastered looking after this body of mine. I’m sore and achy—ragged with exhaustion and pain.

Oh, and I almost forgot, my Beloved spiritual guide, he’s sleeping in the back. I mean I know he’s there and I do check in on him fairly often. But I guess my attention has been so focused on Ned and Kendra and trying to work out a solution through appeasing them, that He’s taken a back seat and is having a snooze.

Again I reflect back on our family road trip…

We had a multitude of challenges, large and small along the way. When we arrived in the US, we were so tired from the ten-hour flight, we left a bag at the Portland airport. With Midnight to pick up and a tired but over-excited eight-year-old to cajole into sleeping, the thought of retrieving it weighed heavy. But we did, and the airport staff were lovely, so that picking up the bag couldn’t have been easier. Later, in Port Orford, I became unwell, so we had to change our plans and navigate the US medical system. But there was a thrill in the spontaneity, and we were rewarded by seeing two Grey Whales, spouting joyously in the Ocean just off Coos Bay. We nearly lost Theo when he went for a wild pee on a wooded clifftop overlooking the sea and slipped (we won’t dwell on that). But it reminded us of our mortality and sparked a gratitude in being alive.

On our longest journey, through Grant’s Pass, from the west coast Redwoods to Klamath Falls, smoke from the raging forest fires to the south tickled our nostrils and dried our throats. The scale of the devastation and destruction in stark contrast to the splendour of the forest we had savoured brought an appreciation of the fragile balance of nature and the inevitability of change. Somehow the challenges seemed to melt into insignificance in the bigger picture of an awesome adventure holiday. On that journey with a destination and a goal to chill, we lived in the moment and had fun along the way.

My mind returns again to my present walk in London…

I breathe deeply and soften, centering myself despite the noise, despite the pain. From deep within, a spark of inspiration rises to the surface and the solution comes to me. I need to take control of the places we have in the van. From now on, Ned and Kendra are in the back. They’re a part of me, so it’s not like I can turf them out. They’re in for the long haul.  But hell, I don’t want them in the driving seat any more, and not even riding up front. I’ll listen and engage with what they have to say. I know they can serve me well and I love them dearly.  I soften my gaze inwards and tap into the love that will turn my Beloved towards me. From now on, I need to keep his attention, because I want him awake and up front by my side.

This notion takes me back in time again…

Towards the end of our family road trip, we were awed by the depth and clarity of Crater Lake as we headed to our final camping place alongside the volcanic obsidian flow of East Lake. We bathed in the lake under the pink and golden hues of sunset. Theo invented a game of football for the three of us which we played in our plot amongst the trees. We savoured our last camp-side dinner together, sharing stories by the campfire. In the morning, hummingbirds frolicked joyfully by our side as we delighted in our breakfast in the sunshine. Our next stop was Bend where we returned Midnight and stayed with friends. A new phase of our adventure had begun.

Back in the London park…

At long last this ‘stuck’ feeling begins to shift. It’s like I’m finally driving out of the Walmart parking lot. My inner road seems unfamiliar and I falter, but my Beloved, sitting beside me now, smiles encouragingly. As we lock gazes inside, I’m reminded that if I keep Him close, He will flawlessly guide me through all terrains: When I take the wrong turn, He sets me back on track; when I’m breaking down, He gives respite to my pain; when I’m running on empty, He tops me up with gas, and when I let him be chief navigator, His direction is always true. He shows me that I have all the tools I need inside of me. He is the Master Mechanic and is slowly, patiently, teaching me the magic of His ways.

This inner adventure is truly the road trip of a lifetime, and it is not always easy. Whilst I recognise I haven’t mastered the art of driving this inner trail yet, I am blessed with a Master co-driver, and He assures me that ‘I’m on my Way’.