Each one of us who sits in stillness

makes an offering to the new Earth bank;

small pools that gather

contributing to a growing lake.

The value of this cannot be overestimated

it is our great gift.

With dignity; alone;

our troubles and joys,

moods and states, we sit,

our bodies, breath, our intent,

provide focus to still busy minds.

Points of light worldwide

silently we gather our stillness,

invisible creations that find their way.

Then, we, quenched and refreshed;

assembled unique individuality,

arise, fragrant in our empty fullness

step out, to join the great flock

September 2017

 

 

This being in a hurry

Is a violence.

This racing away from

racing towards; no time

to pause, wind down, settle,

soften; to feel, to see.

 

Cogs grind,

pressed on by those

caught in its teeth,

made blind, dumb, unfeeling,

a shrivelling.

Responsibility withers

 

where so much remains unmet and

so many wander achingly,

daze of unconsciousness

thin veneer of

socialised and ‘civilised’

false face of what is required.

 

Beneath the surface

gaping lack of love,

of sense of place

and belonging,

grows despair,

 

trodden down hopelessness

a narrowing away from

the bright spark

buried yet undimmed

beneath the rubble.

 

Something is waiting

when you stop and

rest back into being

a freedom so

vast and ready,

 

you are afraid,

what habit patterns hold

you away

keep you bound,

 

desperate clinging,

 

addictions,

societal and individual

blocking the way to

fullness.

 

Is it time to stop

turn towards, face,

make space

to feel,

get to know, and find,

Yourself.

 

Spring 2012

 

Autumn holds me,

a gentle, mellow cradling,

invites me to rest back

saying,

it is time to let go into fullness,

and so I walk a rhythm,

one step,

one breath,

another step,

another breath,

a gratitude,

a prayer,

and I know

that it is time

to let go

into fullness

 

September 2012

 

 My body is thickening

away from the fit of my lovely slim cut dresses

but I don’t want to not eat croissants

the occasional….quite occasional slice….es

of bitter sweet chocolate

toast, crisp and oily

smothering of comfort

 

and after all now there is more of me,

not too much,

too much though to fit

without a squash

into my years old Levis

those summer prints……

 

swiftly, decisively

I slip the dresses off their hangers

knowing I will not become lithe and slender again

fold them for the clothes for Africa collection.

 

With a flourish

I imagine the bright colors on

their lovely dark skins,

the warmth of hot sun,

I feel their pleasure in receiving,

give my dresses gladly,

 

my body is thickening

and there is more of me,

and it is beautiful

 

 June 2011

 

Symphony of trees

As I write the wind moves gently
And the oak tree sheds her leaves
One in particular
A soft spiraling down
past my window,
Catches me
Holds me still,
And now a shower of bronze sweeps
Following a gust,
Releasing those just ready, ripe
To be taken
And joyously it seems they go.
Wanting only to sit
Look past my window
Let go like the leaves.
Gazing now into the darkening day
The just there-ness,
Undemanding winter branches
Of the silver birch
Rising effortlessly up,
Wanting for nothing

 Autumn 2008

 

 Loneliness etched deep,
Seeps and envelops.
Once I would run from it
Frightened,
Into the company of others
The arms of lovers.
But now
When I feel it approach
I stride towards it
Greet it,
Oh so warmly
For it is a part of me
Abandoned
At the beginning of time.
Now when she calls
I invite her in
Eagerly catch hold of her unsure hand.
We play
Bright simple games
Or walk in silence giving thanks,
Dancing together
We come close,
Feel the joy in sorrow,
Sorrow in joy
And it is all OK,
Allowed, embraced, included.
Letting it all be,
Loneliness winds down
Like soft summer rain
Disappearing into
A fresh, new day
A day for skipping and swimming
For lying on hot grey rock
Soaking sun.
Merging
We become one,
A rich and spacious whole
Free at last.

 May 2009

 

 A sliver of silken slate;

all that is visible of the pond

form this short rise where I sit, still,

beneath a canopy of dense fir.

July’s jubilant foliage sprung;

leafy ferns, spears of pink flowers

joyously stretching on this

peak of summer evening

at my cross legged feet.

 

Mist of soft rain floats

a gracious offering,

two young women under an umbrella stop,

gaze at the pond that close to

spreads an ample fullness.

Instrument of man’s toil echoes a

near distant hum, crow caws, I sigh,

breath releasing a blown out relief,

this gracious Earth.

 

All my fragments flung out and given away

Earth and tree draws me back,

their living, breathing, solid, stillness

touch me; move me to fill out,

gather, keep going.

The learning from the shattering,

my own mighty knowing

that has shown me enough;

a new way,

 

where lie the flowers, the springs,

grass that is always green

calling me back to life

a life worth living

how long, how long.

Decisive, at the helm,

courageously facing,

not turning away, but steering a course,

Fully embodied we are saved.

 

It can take some time to finally

realise that no one, and nothing, can stop you,

that it really doesn’t matter what any other thinks.

I rise, do my work, the heavy and

burdensome, light and joyful, all.

Demon habit patterns,

seductive thought forms

have twirled and spun a mind made

not knowing, blocking sweet juices flow.

 

Momentum spun too far, at times, to

slip back to truth; steadfast, a light step,

joy and ease, whatever weather.

Now sweet vitality aliveness awakens,

inner realms flower,

trusting, I let it take me,

halt the looking outside,

strike out once more

on self crafted paths that have

 

battled the briar’s,

the tangled mass, cleared a way,

thrashing the undergrowth

with a self found sturdy stick,

castle nearing closer and closer

waiting reclamation,

where will be found at last

the wings to fly

that even now are sprouting readiness

 

July 2016

 

 It is Thursday 4th January,
I have woken in the night,
a shock of bleak awakens with me,
suffuses; heavy, blighting.
I check my bedside clock;
it is 3 am, I lie wakeful…….
Then….the birds are singing!
I listen, yes, the birds are singing,
not just one voice but more,
I touch the light switch of the clock,
it is 3.20am,
but the birds are singing?
I sit up, rise from my warm covers
step to the wide sash window
sweep it open, listen, look,
melodies are ringing the quiet dark,
yes, birds are singing.
An age it takes to regain sleep
But light winged friends are
pulling at the fibres of my heart
lifting, lifting…
soft light gleaming through curtains
from a waning full moon,
accompanied,
I am no longer alone,
my light winged friends are singing…

Winter 2016

 

 You cannot hold fast to anything
have to keep going
flow with the river aliveness,

else galloping thought
will take you
into its prison.

Whether the sea rests
a dazzling millpond
or surges outrageous

it is your being in being
the feeling of this body
the living wave of this breath

your ever present vibrant
allegiance to the moment
that keeps thought away,

nowhere to enter, to catch
and spin into its taut web.
In a gathering stream

wide awake witness watches,
aligned to ‘deep feeling’
asks directly for what it wants,

there is a road to freedom
within the walls of this tight
city; society,

governed by
ever growing stupidity
a regimented nonsense

its robot subjects
slain into a walking dead.
There is no getting away

only the great ocean
waiting,
inviting return,

its quiet stillness
beyond tumultuous,
I will not

narrow myself away
from divine graciousness
we have come again on to

this Earth of beauty,
the world has made
a jaded trap

 

June 2013