Writings

Rightly wrong or wrongly right…

It felt wrong. Or maybe it was me that felt wrong. I was beyond the point of being able to reliably determine true from false. The days had merged into one long string and I could no longer decipher the differences between them either. And if I could not manage to follow a 7 day repeating pattern how on Earth was I to dive in and face the plethora of lies and truth wreaking havoc within and making me question wrong, right, left, up, down, me, not me? The very idea of having to begin the unravelling was exhausting. And so for a while I rested, and I avoided, and I distracted, and I made do, and I hid, and I pretended. And I told myself this was Wrong too. That all the shoulds that were flying round my cranium like missiles ready to take me out were Right.
That I Should be better,
Should be stronger,
Should be doing more,
Should be coping,
Should be creating,
Should be helping.
And then I saw it, again.
The weaponry.
The attacking.
And at first, I wanted to make that Wrong as well but I realised then I was just adding fuel to an already raging fire.
Maybe the only way through was to stop labelling wrong as wrong and right as right and wrong as right and right as wrong.
Maybe it was all just notes in a song, held together by the silences between, and the not knowing what was coming next, and the loud parts, and the quiet parts, and the spaces, and the nuances.
Maybe I was just in the spaces.
Maybe I didn’t need to have the whole song written out for an orchestra to play. Maybe I was more of an interlude, or more of an original piece, never written down for no one ever knew what was coming next and therefore whatever I was doing was exactly right, because no manuscript could ever contain me and no scale lines could ever predict how I may Be. And I realised maybe that’s the only right way to be.
To be ever unfolding, in the Unknown, not trying, not shoulding, not having a script.
Maybe that’s where the real courage is.
To be able to be unknowing, and unseeing, and unsure. To allow the supposed wrongs to be reclaimed as opportunities for connection and space. All great success is born of failure upon failure upon failure anyway.
Maybe it’s better to be wrong.
Who’d want the confines of having to be right? Those lines are too tight and I was never born to fit.
And I guess right now it doesn’t matter what day of the week it is; why am I trying to hold onto someone else’s idea of how life should be organised anyway? Maybe now is the best time to be wrong, to not fit, to not have to present in any way other than how I am.
Everyone is improvising.
No one knows.
So how can anyone possibly be wrong because right now, there is no right….

Dear Mother Earth,


Thank you for all the times you held me when I could not hold myself.
Thank you for the lessons you taught me, and continue to teach me through empowering me to be still enough to witness and absorb them.
Thank you for always reminding me things pass and change and that there is beauty even in the darkest of places.
Thank you for being the constant I never knew I needed.
Thank you for your age, and your grace, and your compassion and your ferocious teachings.
You love me enough to throw me to the fire and watch it burn away all I no longer need.
Thank you for the space between spaces.
Thank you for teaching me about danger and fear and how to sit with it long enough that I can see the God in it too.
Thank you for the colours that have inspired so many palettes. The artists may never be original for you are Creation itself, but their attempts to meet you there are exquisite.
Thank you for showing me the passing of time, and death, and how all is a part of the great dance no matter what state the physicality may hold.
Thank you for teaching me of connection through the mycelium and the trees.
Thank you for teaching me to breathe. And to stop. And to be in awe.
Thank you for showing me the meaning of wonder.
Thank you for letting me wander.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.

In- Complete…

Seekers of depth –
Where are you?
Hiding in the shadows of the centre of the room
Too soon.
You are needed.
Your low belief systems have been superseded.
Self esteem issues must be deleted.
Purpose completed.
It is time.
The divine in you
Calls.
No more walls.
The world is tumbling.
Soul quakes rumbling.
Pyramids crumbling.
Make way for the new.
Make way for the true.
That love is and I am
And no construct of man
Can ever take away from what Is.
This IS This.
Either side of the tide
Same face town wide
The deep seekers,
The truth keepers,
The relievers.
They wait.
Fears abate.
Seasons change.
And it’s Now.
And Now
And Now.
Arise my child
Be still for a while
Don’t get caught in the smile
Of not enough.
Break free.
Be clean.
Be seen.
Just breathe…

Things in life ain’t always quite what they seem…

There’s feeling there but I can’t quite touch it. It haunts me. Just out of reach. It threatens my eyes and teeters on the edges of my awareness, but it won’t quite enter.
And so I wait.
And it peers round the corners, seeing if I am still noticing, if I am still willing. And I acknowledge it with an opening from the inside out saying welcome, you are welcome.
And tentatively, it begins to test the waters an venture out from behind its safety net, sticking one limb at a time out, not quite wanting to risk the open space, not trusting it.
And I wait.
I feel it.
It’s closer.
But it isn’t what it first looked like.
Once more what had appeared like one feeling had turned out to be another once allowed to be.
What looked like grief turned itself into gratitude and relief upon closer inspection.
This was the best of both worlds.
I had had enough of the pain, and of the exquisite love. My heart didn’t need to bear it anymore. Not on this visit.
This time I got to bear witness. To share in it. To feel it. But to not be consumed by it.
I always thought I would be.
It was one of those things I thought was a certainty and as with all the other certainties has turned into one of the few things that will never be, at least not in the way I first conceived it.
Maybe that’s the way of all things.
Forever flowing.
Forever changing.
Never solid.
Always moving.
Vibrating to be heard.
Fluxing.
Fluid.
Free.

How to ever explain…

Addiction is my favourite colours, set ablaze with an intensity so seductive that I can’t resist them.
Addiction is my favourite shape, drawing me in and spinning me around, with wonder, awe, inspiration, until it spits me out on the floor disoriented and lost, not knowing which way is up or down.
Addiction is an unkept promise, luring me in with its wily ways, telling me it will be different this time.
Addiction is my deepest desire, ever so slightly skewed so I can’t tell the true from the false.
Addiction is the best illusion I have ever seen, looking like one thing and being another.
Addiction is everything I ever want wrapped up in the most exquisite packaging, yet when I unwrap it, there is nothing there.
Addiction is so attractive it keeps me away from what I really want.
It’s so sublime that at times I fully believe it MUST be God.
Addiction is so powerful, how could it not be God?
Addiction is so deceitful, so forgetful.
Addiction hides parts of me from myself so I can’t reach them anymore.
Addiction lies to me about who I am.
Addiction tells me God is not God.
Addiction says “I am God. Worship me. Dance with me. Sing with me. Love with me. Bow down before me. Hurt for me. Suffer for me. Die for me.”
Addiction separates.
Splits apart.
Shatters.
Splinters.
Breaks.
If I survive the breaking, then perhaps I see the beauty of the spaces. The limitlessness of spirit. The Love of God. The unity.
Perhaps I finally get to breathe in connection.
Perhaps I finally remember.
Perhaps I see clearly.
Perhaps I don’t fall for the tricks so easily.
Perhaps my heart is so full with God it no longer desires.
Perhaps I realise that even in the breaking I am whole.
Perhaps I feel how held I am.
Perhaps.
Perhaps.

I, Am Not…

I, am not.
I, is not the issue.
I is just the meaningless name given to this piece of the ocean wrapped up in these tissues.
But I am not contained.
These lines marking my edges meet with my disdain for if I am the whole encapsulated in parts,
Then these lines do not inform my heart and my heart is not limited to the wanton beat,
My heart is the universal cosmic complete,
Married to the whole with no need to compete
For one is all, I am one and all else is deceit.
I deceive myself.
I fall for the lies,
Caught up in the illusion of distrust and despise
I abhor their cries,
The fear soaked stories sold for blood and for power
Yet still they cower
For the truth whispers to them in their sleep,
In the moments between where they hear their souls speak
It is dark inside, and She is stalking their dreams,
What they think that they are isn’t all that it seems
And She whispers, planting seeds in their blood, and as those seeds get louder they hear the beat thud, thud, thud,
Closer and closer they are stalked inside out,
As the wisdom of blood goes from whisper to shout,
And the voices of shadows become louder now,
Root to sun, sun to heart, heart to crown, voice and brow,
And “I” hears the crowd,
Beating inside of my veins,
Threatening to burst with the fight to contain
All the things I have been, all the things I have told,
As I fought with my insides to restrain and control,
For I am and you are and She is the He,
The Love of the broken lives free as the three,
The flow and the water the fire and the steam
The raw and the wild behind every scene,
The battle and the torment, the pains and the screams,
Come thundering forward as reality becomes dreams,
And dreams become falseness and what was not becomes true,
That power is inward and I am the you,
And you are the me and the we and the should
Marked out by the scales on the trials of wood
And burned though they were with the valiant hearts
The secrets were kept in the darkest of parts
In the membranes and cells and the substance and flow
In the tendrils and plain sight and tubules that glow
In the light between dark and the black between light
The wisdom still lives as the day becomes night
And night becomes day and all illusion is lost
No control, no order, at least not for the cost,
For money can’t buy the wisdom that flows
For it ebbs and it gushes and it waits and it grows
Just stop for a moment and feel with your breath
Can you feel the space between life and false death
The I that was given is not I that I am
The deeper the line cuts the longer I stand
The I that bursts open when surrender comes through
Is the I of the whole, of the God, of the You.
And so I is no matter, for matter is no I.
Arise from the stupor and stop asking why
The why and the how and the what and the when,
All obstruct the connection between the now and the then
And the now is the moment, the now is the real
The then is illusory, long lost to the feel
The feel is in now and the now is the time
To put oceans in drops and the drops are divine
Divine is the beating, divine is the field
Divine is the battle, divine is the yield
Divine is the Center, divine is the whole
Divine is my body and divine is my soul.

Response…

I rise up from the surface entering the depths of be-ing.
And in the seeing,
I am chaos
Mixed with timing so precise
This life
Filled with spirals and with flames
I proclaim
That my center is my heart
I depart
From these lines
They are no longer mine
For I am thine
In the power and the glory
I abhor thee
This creatrix made of flesh
And in the making of the altar, I tremble and detest
For I am freedom
Not confined to mattered space
I deface
These lines
I replace
These confines
I mark the map with blood
Drawn from the holy mother
The other
This earth who birthed my soul
I am sold
To the life in which I breathe
And in the dark my silence speaks
And I am free to be
I reprieve
For my sanity’s at stake
And in the wake
The waves lift me
The rift shifts me
And I breathe
In the circles of the spheres
I appear
Above the depths of being
I am seeing
This Earth, this life, my blood
Each thud
Of the broken hearted beat
I defeat
And I take another step
I am met
By the light and by the dark
In the wisdom of the hour
I hear the fatal spark
And in the sparking of the latest death
The healer comes to life
And in the coming of the birthing
There endeth all the strife
In the portent of becoming
My spirit is released
And in the silence of the afterbirth
My soul is now at peace.

Night Sea Journey…

I am in the belly of the whale, and I do not know where it is taking me.
Any choice in surrender has been taken out of my hands and into the guts of a Divine carrier, encompassing me within its flesh with the warmth and nourishment of the womb of the Mother.
And there is peace here. Despite the deafening noise of the chewing to pieces and digestion and processing of the world around me, there is peace. Amongst all the movement, all the change, all the comings and goings beyond my control and seeming comprehension, there is a stillness.
I am still, and yet I am constantly moving.
Life is taking me through the waves, safely held within its grasp.
And so I await the next rebirth, and the next, and the next.
For it is a never-ending process of birth, death and rebirth.
How will I be born next?
What will have been shed and what will have grown?
What form shall the flight take this time?
For I will fly; be it on the back of the dragon, or through the veins of my being, I will fly. Sailing with the fiery grounding of the breath.
I shall not stay tethered to the lines that seek to hold me, for I am held by the matter of Nature. I have no need for the straight when the waves, the spirals are the driving force, and the net provides the Divine with a playing field within me to dance and swing and clamber and slide and climb upon.
I am held.
From the inside out, I am held.
And so I sit within the confines of the Beast, knowing that just for now, it’s boundaries are the way to greater freedom, accepting the simplicity of my surroundings and grateful for the protection from the bellowing of the world outside.
I do not wish to be low inside, but sometimes going down is the only way to reach the place that catapults us into the next arising.
And I will rise.
For as the phoenix finds life in the ashes, I find the spark within the darkness. I seek the jewel within the blackness that shines with the depth only the darkest night may bring. The exquisite sheen of a stone drenched in the oceanic reaches of Knowing, its beauty fleeting as the Sun fades it back into the Unknowing.
But the secret of the Unknown, the thing we fear most, is its limitless potential. The potency of the lessened limits so strong we fear we may be rendered lifeless by its power. Oh what fallacy this is. The Unknown seeks only to welcome us to its Mystery, for not all can be Known or what would ever be the point? Where would be the joy? Where would be the discovery and the seeking and the glorious anticipation?
Where would be the breaks for the Light to get in?
Where would be the darkness for the colour to become?
Where would be the space for love to fill?
And each separation is a preparation; a void for more to be.
Each time between is an invitation back into the heart of the matter so that we may become again enlivened and enriched as we are birthed back from time within the embrace of the Creator.
So be created.

Peace.

My veins run with the power of God. She flows through me with a ferocious gentleness that brings life in such abundance that it spills out of me into everything I touch, everything I see. She is me, and I am Her. Bound in love, held in grace. How can I doubt when She loves me so deeply that it is Her very pulses that give me life and allow me to feel. She is my mother, my sister, my lover, my friend, my solace, my teacher, my challenger. She is All. She is in me and through me and with me always in all ways. I am in glorious surrender to the passion of Her loving embrace and I never need anything else. I fear nothing, for She is all, and if She is all, what can there be to fear?~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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The God Theatre

She came and She stripped away every single piece of me. She left me raw, broken, crying, hurting, shaking on the floor with nowhere left to run. My thinking had abandoned me and I could no longer run there. There were no other people available in that moment for me to hide behind. There was just me.. And Her. And in that second She looked like the most beautiful and the most terrifying thing I had ever seen. And I have known Her for a long time. She IS me after all. Just as She is all else. And I stood before Her, quivering, desperately wanting to run to her, but frozen in time, unable to move, my heart beating so loud I could hear nothing but the drumming of it in my chest. And in that moment, I felt something familiar, something I knew.. Something. I felt something. And it wasn’t something with a name or a label, or a set of instructions… It was something bigger and deeper than the words. It was something Real. It was something True. It was Life. And in that moment She came to me, and She was in me, and through me and with me, and all the fear and the pain and the tension and the sorrow fell out of me, and in Her it became music and light and passion and art and beauty and dance and I saw it was all part of the bigger picture.. The art only the Gods are able to see clearly. For we are part of the great dance, part of the picture, we cannot see it for we are IN it. And I want to play my part well. I want to keep showing up and being all that is asked of me. And sometime the most beautiful, moving, transformative pieces of a masterpiece are the ones that rip you to shreds and smash you so far open that you are never the same afterwards. That’s good art. The pieces that touch you so deeply you are forever changed. And in that moment, She smiled, because She saw I understood. That I knew all I needed to know. And I smiled too, for I saw the parts had all been played absolutely perfectly, precisely, and with grace, honour and love. And I sent thanks via the heart threads to those who shared the stage with me, and then I lay back, and enjoyed the peace before the next act. For this show is never done… This show of life. It is always in all ways. It never ends. No, this is the eternal dance. Sometimes we are centre stage, and sometimes we are in the wings, waiting for our big moments, and sometimes we are witness to other people’s scenes to give them the perspective they cannot see from the place in the cast.. But step back further, and there are the stage hands and lighting engineers and sound people and ticket merchants, and the people who built the building, and the ones who formed the idea, and you see none of it is more or less important than any other part of it.. We need it ALL to create the Whole. So, to quote someone else’s wisdom “We all become important, when we realise our goal should be to figure out our role within the context of the whole..” So what’s my act? What’s my magic show? What’s my part? And will I bring it? Will I be it? In All its aspects? I will keep striving to be the very best I can be, for God is watching, and I want to give Her a good show. For one day, I will go Home to Her, and I want Her to say “You did good, my Love, you did good.”
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If reposting/sharing, please credit this page fully. Please do not post on websites, blogs etc without prior permission from the author. Thank you. © Copyright 2016 Where Divine Fire Glows