Easter Gifts

Amidst the dawn chorus, the blue tit brings her gifts.

A twig of hazel, a tuft of dry grass,

Selected with care, placed with intent.

Layer upon layer, day by day,

She lovingly builds her nest.

Today she carries sprigs of moss to soften her bed.

Her mate passes her a slender shoot of beech,

Adding strength, structure, comfort.

Bit by bit she ferries in her treasures,

Ever more immersed in creating her safe harbour.

I too am making a home for myself,

Each dawn I slip into the golden rays of Grace deep within,

Lay down all mind’s burdens and play awhile,

Soaking in the radiant truth of this sunlit glade,

Aspiring to master the dance of this inner sanctum.

This sunrise, I bring the whole of myself,

My fault finding, broken, wilting parts,

Tarnished with resentment, pain and shame.

I light a candle, sip hot tea, and gather around the warmth,

Of my own inner fire, calling Grace in.

Our flame blazes through any perceived problems,

Self-imposed barriers, heavy obstacles to truth.

Grace softens my edges, balms my scars,

Shows divine purpose behind every limitation,

That all is for Love.

Day by day, gift upon gift, a sacred refuge is built.

We are co-creating a hallowed home within,

Where treasures of Grace abound,

As I step up to partner this divine dance,

Love’s miracles of rebirth emerge.

An egg of expanded consciousness, 

Gives way to a new awakening,

Watch me grow my wings and fly.

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November Rain

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.

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Awakening

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.

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.

titoOnz

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

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

Mid Winter’s Gift

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

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

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

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.