transcendence

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.

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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

A Practice in Liberation

/ Chloe Kyle / 6 Comments 
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.

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

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.

This Sacred Road

/ Chloe Kyle / 2 Comments 
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.

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

A Murmuration

/ Chloe Kyle / 3 Comments

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.






If these words resonate with you, feel free to comment.

			

	


			
				


	

							
The Ultimate Treasure Hunt
						

			 / Chloe Kyle						 / Leave a comment
								

			


		

		
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.

			

	


			
				


	

							
In the Eye of the Storm
						

			 / Chloe Kyle						 / 2 Comments
								

			


		

		
Rain lashes, wind whips,


Trees uproot, rivers burst their banks,


A torrent of chaos floods our world,


Roads closed, electrics down, homes battered.


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                                                            Source: Mimadeo                                                   


 


I batten down our hatches,


Light the fire in the hearth,


Drink tea, play games with heart aglow,


In appreciation of the refuge of home.




 


In tandem, a deadly virus swarms the globe,


Spreading fear, panic and terror.


A surge of turmoil assaults the senses,


Jobs lost, isolation forced, mortality faced.




 


Within this havoc, I have a choice,


Of where I place my attention.


In the tumult of the tempest,


The everchanging mayhem of the outer.




 


Or in the eye of the storm,


Where fear, apathy, and misplaced loyalties,


Dissolve. All must be let go,


For the sanctity of His refuge within.


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The urgency to support friends, neighbours,


The dread of risking lives, the noise of media,


All rise in a frenzy, an intense inner storm,


Until I soften and open in to Love.




 


The deeper this surrender,


The greater the fire of His Love.


Until it eclipses all,


And my candle becomes His flame.




 


And this mountain of Love within,


Becomes the axis of my being.


All thoughts, words, actions,


A divine co-creation.




 


In the storm’s wake, a trail of blessings unfolds.


Debris shifts, new channels open.


Seeds spread by high winds sprout,


Flood plains become verdant pastures.




 


In the aftermath of the Now,


Exquisite blessings emerge.


For I choose surrender,


The rest is divine alchemy.




 


The sun rises.


Clouds part to reveal a rainbow.


A veil lifts for the whole of humanity,


A new light on an evolving world.



			

	


			
				


	

							
The Divine Illuminator
						

			 / Chloe Kyle						 / 6 Comments
								

			


		

		
Some days I feel engulfed,


Smothered by the tenacious fetor,


Of past misdeeds, untrue words or harsh thoughts,


That weaken me so I curl up and hide.


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Under a warm duvet of pretence,


False comforts of rich food and wine,


I find paltry balm. Until I awaken,


To the debris I’ve buried myself in.




 


I curse myself for dwelling,


In these dark dingey parts of me.


Yet my attention is stuck here,


Entrenched in dank sticky mud.




 


It’s like a flashlight is exposing all,


This ugly dross I’ve hidden from myself.


The anger that I’d stashed under the carpet,


The grief that I’d placed out of sight.




 


“It’s a gift”, He whispers gently,


Lifting the veil I’d placed over my eyes.


And I see the illuminator of this pain,


The bearer of the torch, is my Beloved.




 


He shows me how each hidden gripe,


Each speck of vanity, fear or remorse,


When seen in the gaze of His compassion,


Is a precious lesson in what I am not.




 


We sweep them up together.


Dredging the channels of my consciousness,


Of these memories, gathered like driftwood,


That weigh me down and block my view.




 


With the eyes of a lioness,


Batting away her precocious cubs,


I throw these children of my creation,


Into the river of His abundant love.




 


And embrace the wisdom they bring.


Unexpected truths gained through harsh experience,


Hard fought attainments released in an instant’s clarity.


The purpose of all lifetimes revolutionised in a flash.




 


I watch the chaff being washed away,


 In a torrent of love that fills my being.


And see that the agony of this illumination,


Is just a calling to embody what I truly I am.




 


In this divine alchemy,


This dissolving of particles no longer needed,


The true me becomes clearer, lighter.


Ready to rise up to a greater radiance.