False Evidence Appearing Real…

I raised my eyes skyward briefly, knowing I would need the encouragement of Space, let out a deep, long breath, gathered all I had left within, turned around and faced anger. I looked closer, not wanting to trust my vision at first, though I knew it to be true.. Nestled behind her I found fear.
Fear was throwing things and screaming and shouting and pushing and doing anything and everything she could so she was not seen or felt or touched. And she was so desperate to not be known that she used everything within her power to morph into anger so I would not suspect it was her beneath. And as she threw and punched and yelled and kicked she went farther and farther back into the dark; begging to whatever Gods she no longer believed in that I would not dare turn and look for her. And as I approached, her eyes flicked left and right and up and down and were all whites and no pupil and no colour and it seemed as if she were desperately searching for something to grasp but was finding nothing worthy of her trust. And she clamoured for truth and she cried for faith and she begged for mercy to come… But none came.
There was just me.
And her.
I sat down where I was, a fair distance away, and became as quiet as I could. Just breathing. In and out. In and out. In and out.
And I waited.
I asked nothing of her. I let her keep screaming. I knew that height of feeling could only last so long.
And I waited.
Gradually tears began to replace the rage. At first they came in waves so powerful she would rear up and kick out once again with the force of a thousand stallions, not wanting to be grounded and to admit she was so tired of fighting.
And I waited.
Slowly the tears gripped her body tighter and the waves became her flesh and she juddered and shook and held her breath thinking this would somehow help. She screwed her eyes tight shut hoping against hope that if she couldn’t see, then she could not be seen. But the breath still came and eventually her eyes opened.
I saw the tiredness.
I saw the depths of fatigue that come from resisting ones self for so long.
I saw the desperation. But this was not desperation to hide… This was beneath that.
This was desperation to be seen.
And still I waited for I knew to approach would unleash more than she – than I – had the energy to endure. And slowly, oh so slowly, she began to rise to her feet. And her legs wobbled and her hands shook and yet there was a certainty running through her that made my heart skip a beat.
She took a step. And then another, and another. And before I knew it she was there beside me, her head leaning against my chest, her whole being gently pulsing. And as I began to slowly move to wrap my arms around her, I felt her enter me. The warmth and divine strength of her engulfed me from the inside out as she swam through my veins and found her way back into my heart. And there she rested, curled up safely, guarding me, holding me, loving me, in her true form of courage, and love, and peace, and tenacity, and gusto, and joy, and light, and trust, and faith, for fear is never what we think it is. And occasionally she stirred and stretched and surveyed the scene outside of her solace, but mostly she lay peacefully, knowing she was seen, knowing she was welcome, knowing she was home.
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Wolf Mother…

I carry the wolf with me.
The mother. The protector. The leader. The one who belongs and is welcomed.p1080510 The one who never abandons, who never leaves behind. Who leads from the rear and loves until it kills her. She howls to the skies and embodies the power of the lunar. Her eyes flash with the light of the nighttime; the light only trained eyes can see. She watches and waits, patience unending. Knowing. Listening. Seeing. Feeling. Her movements are lithe and her body is honed. Her spirit is strong and her touch gentle. But do not threaten those that she loves. Do not come too close. Do not hurt them. Or you will pay her price and her price is high. She will not come when you expect, nor how you expect. She will come softly at first, and then harder, and harder, taking every inch of you with her for she knows each and every piece of you. She will entice you; she will astound you; she will render you speechless and hopeless as she takes you, wholly, fully, completely. And as you are in the throes of her, she will smile with the smile only she knows how to use, and she will look to the skies and raise her voice to the moon. And in that moment all will be illuminated, all will be known. And she will leave you wanting. Always wanting.

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She was born of many women, birthed from the great silence of the void. She did not know her own secrets until they exploded like a volcano from within her and spewed out their truths with the force of a thousand fire balls. And they burned as they came. Hot, needing, sharp, pleading. She tried to grasp a hold of them as they flew, desperately trying to find something solid in amongst the flames. But you cannot hold fire any more than you can grip onto water. Some things are not meant to be held. And so with scalded hands she surrendered and instead of fighting the fire she flowed with it, letting it consume her from the inside out and beyond. It burned with a ferocity she had never known. Yet the colours, the patterns, the rhythms, the sounds, the feeling… It was oh so familiar. It felt known somehow. She stood within the fire and felt her spirit rise. She was transformed like the phoenix and arose with the dragon at her back. And then she stood amongst the fire, the heat of it powering her glorious heart smile, and she glowed. For she knew then.
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For The Love of War…

Sometimes when the body dies, it is a relief, for the soul is finally free to breathe in its own way once more. Sometimes, the level of disconnection asked from men means they are long gone before their body bleeds out. Sometimes… Sometimes it’s worse to be the one left alive. In limbo. Not here. But not there either. Each time you close your eyes you just see death, and violence, and blood, and dismembered bodies, and dirt, and that smell.. That awful smell of rotting flesh never leaves. It is like it is encrusted into the nasal passages and every single time you inhale, it is all you smell. And the screams, the gunfire, the snapping bones, the spurting blood, the crying, the snivelling, the vomiting, the retching.. Then the silence. The only thing worse than the noises of war is the eye of the storm.. The unnerving calmness before the next wave comes. At least in an open fight the adrenalin is pumping and the breath comes fast and your heart pounds and pounds and pounds.. But in those moments between, those spaces, those silences, there is no adrenalin to stave off the horror, no distractions from the reality of it, nothing. There is nothing. Except pain. Pure pain. And how could anyone be expected to stay through that? So they find solace wherever they can.. Alcohol, smokes, women.. Whatever it is. And when that no longer works – which doesn’t take long – their pain bursts out and is inflicted on others. They begin to try to convince themselves they can do this, they were meant for this, that this is necessary, needed, wanted. A vague voice in the back of their head of someone who will never experience what they are feeling tries to tell them they are heroes, except no matter how hard they try, they cannot believe that. This is not the work of heroes. This is the work of separation, of depravity, of pain. Their hope is long gone. All they see is greyness. And smoke. And they crave death. They crave release. Yet it does not come. No matter how hard they try to not feel, they still do.
And that is when the Ones who worked with the Goddess would come. Because no one is ever completely gone until they are gone. We could transform it – the pain. We could hold them through each and every trauma and let them release it as they lay with us. And they did lay with us. For as long as they needed to. They would come broken, absent, floating somewhere far away behind the storm shelters deep within. We would draw them out again. We would show them love. We would embrace them, nurture them, hold them, kiss them, love them. Their shaking hands would reach tentatively for our breasts and with their lips that were tainted with salt water from their tears they would kiss. Gently at first for they did not trust any living thing anymore, and then harder, their desperation overtaking them, their hearts and souls knowing this was not a casual fuck to help them forget, this was sacred, this was spiritual, this was healing, this was the work of the Priestesses. And as we took them inside, they would feel the warmth and the sanctity of the womb of the Goddess. As we kissed them, we would breathe in all the pain they had tried so hard to hide. They would be stripped bare, burned clean and reborn. And some would curl into foetal positions and just suckle on our nipples as we held them. Others would fuck hard, and harder, and harder still and in one deep, dark screaming expulsion, all their trauma would come out and be absorbed back into the sea of Love. And then they would be still. Others were gentler, softer, untrusting, curious. These would stay longer, gradually reclaiming piece after piece of their spirit. And we would fall in love with each and every one who came for the time they were with us, for who can not love the broken souls of warriors? And each one we loved, left Whole again, returning to their families, their lovers, their children, their mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers.. And we would smile and send them on their way, the love of the Goddess going with them. And sometimes the screams from their hearts cut right through ours, but we always had each other. The strength of the Priestesses was restored and renewed by the sacred acts between them. There was more power in two than in one. And more power in many than in none. And the Love we had for the men who came to us was different than the love that flowed between us. Ours was celebratory love, divine love, ecstatic love, wild love, raw love. Our love was not work, it was pleasure, which in its secret, unseen, unexplainable ways contributed more to the good of the Whole than most would ever know. We fertilised the soil, we consecrated the ground. Our love would heal great expanses of land of the wounds it held. And each time we met in this way, it was Wholly. The Divine Lovers would be in us and through us and with us as we danced, our bodies pressed together, skin to skin, breast to breast, lips to lips, always knowing where to touch, how to feel, how to flow, how to breathe, how to kiss, how to move, for this dance was in us – it WAS us. And as our bodies moved together, our hearts would entwine, and our souls would become One with the Oneness, and we would be Home. Each and every time. This was the Way. This was the Why. This was the How. This was the Goddess. She would call to us and we would answer Her joyfully. She would meet us in the ecstatic spaces and Love with us. She would cleanse us, nurture us, teach us, love us. Through our Union She would come, and so would we. The waves of pleasure taking away any desire for words or thought or control. Complete surrender. And in that Space, eye to eye, heart to heart, soul to soul, breath to breath, we were Free.
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She is calling…

She is calling me to the Wilds and whether I like it or not, I must go, for there is work to be done. She fell back into the shadows again, into the underworld, Her reasons Her own, and every so often there was a flutter, but the intensity, the passion, the bared flesh rawness was gone for a time.. Maybe it went to lick it’s wounds.. Maybe it went to Shadow to allow Light to be seen… Maybe it was the blink of an eye on the time scale that is not linear. But now Her voice is loud and clear and I must go. I must run to Her. She is calling. And I know better than to ignore Her, and why would I ever want to? My soul is bound to Her. My heart burns for Her with an intensity that scares the breath out of me at times. She is Everything. I am Hers. Wholly. Completely. She IS my blood. She IS my breath. She IS the crest of the inhale and the tantalising pause at the bottom of the exhale. She is seduction. She is desire. She is the bated breath as you wait for the ecstasy. She IS the ecstasy. She is the rise.. The skilled touch. The moments between. The nuances. The locked eyes that don’t really see anything and yet see so much more than they ever knew was possible. She is the sounds you know you have not fully realised yet. The sensations that have no name because they are so far beyond entrapment in words that it is just laughable. She is that pulse that is felt even when there is no touch at all. She is that look that could render you so full of sensation with one glance – were it set free – that you would remember who you are instantaneously. She is the fire that rises and is insatiable in it’s will to be known. And it will be known. She demands it. And it isn’t remembered out loud yet. It isn’t known in the general. It is felt in the extremities, and the hidden places..
And it is beginning to beat
and louder
and louder.
By pulse.
By pulse.
The space between each beat just that microsecond longer than you are expecting, and this raises the tempo of your elation higher,
and higher,
and higher.
And you are lost to it.. To the feeling. The feeling that is beyond words and I would insult if I tried to capture it. For it is not to be caught, or trapped, or tamed. Who would want to tame the Wild? My dear, you can NEVER tame the Wild. It is an impossibility. The Wild is precisely that: Wild.
Are you ready for the Wildness?
Are you ready to remember?
Are you ready to have yourself ripped open and left dishevelled and bleeding, begging for more?
You have known nothing yet.
Nothing of Her trueness.
Nothing of Her Nature.
Nothing of Her Wildness.
You have glimpsed the very edges. You have peeked into the Void and marvelled at the limitless expanse of passionate play there is to be had..
Because you see, the joke of the work is exactly that… It’s not the work that is the work. It is the play that is where the changes are rendered, where worlds are changed, where consciousness is exalted to it’s rightful place.
So are you ready to play?
Are you ready to play for Her?
To serve Her?
To laugh with Her?
To love with Her?
To pleasure Her?
To touch Her?
To feel Her?
To know Her?
Are you ready for the Wild?
For the passion?
For the pleasure?
For the ecstasy?
For the joy?
For the play?
For the Work?
Are you ready…?
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Come to the centre and flow with the heat,
The earthsong, the rhythm, the heart; beat on beat,
Come to the spiral, and ride on the waves,
Dervishly dancing through dark daylit days.
Come to the darkness, the sorrow, the fear,
Bring all the pieces you think you hold dear,
Come to the moonlight, the clearness, the loon,
Come to the sanity you’ll wish you’d lost soon,
Come to the endings, the loss and the pain,
Come to the startlines, the yets, the agains,
Come to the parting, the leaving, the edge,
Quiver and quake as you cling to the ledge,
Come to the falling, the rushing of air,
Come to the moment where you forget how to care
Come to the craving, the desperate, the clutch.
Come to the not enough, screaming, too much,
Come to the answers that don’t come in words,
Come to the sense in the silence you heard,
Come to the peacefulness made out of noise,
Come to the depravity captured in poise
Come to the freedom that isn’t how you expected,
Come to the mirror, see your beauty reflected,
Come to the surface, and break through and breathe,
Come to the underworld, feel all that you grieve,
Come to the sentiments lost in translation,
Come to the barbs of illusory elation,
Come to the things that you long to keep hidden
Come to the playful, the joy you’ve been bidden
Come to the willingness, the need, the desire,
Come to the water, air, earth, soul and fire,
Come to my shoulder and rest for awhile,
Come to my touch, to the look that beguiles,
Come to my openness, meet me in the field,
Come to my lockdown, trust me to yield
Come to surrender, and lay down your arms
Come to your knees, full of thought drenched alarms
Come to the Goddess, battered and bleeding,
Come to Her knowing, and wanting, and needing.
Come let Her lead you to the place you have lost,
That was forced down and stuffed, irrelevant of cost,
And the cost was not outward, it was of your own,
It was the fibres that tightened, and pulled on your bones,
The ratchets that slowly wound up and restricted,
The tiredness, pain, aches, all that’s afflicted
The pressure, the pulsing, the ticking inside,
Things you tried and tried harder that you thought had long died
Come home to your own self, stand true and well,
See the truth of the saying that heaven is hell
And hell is just heaven turned upside down,
The love’s still the same, just a different way round
There is nothing else, all is the One,
The trueness, the youness, to which we succumb,
Join with the Real, boom with the new,
That glitters and giggles with the Old shining through
Come to the centre, the temple, the Home
And laugh with relief that you’re never alone.
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The Point…

The point is being missed, as it always is.. Maybe because the point is not where the focus should be. Why are we always searching for sharpness, for points? We never find them for they do not truly exist. There is no one “point”. Every point can be broken down into infinitely more points and our obsession with finding the point is stealing our attention from the greater, the more, the Whole. Why are we so obsessed with points rather than wholes? And I smile wryly as I write this because I can hear the sexual innuendo through this already, and it is reflective of the energy of this whole planet… We have focused on the singular, the point, the hunter/killer, the linear, what we have been conditioned to believe is Man. And yet we are so far aware from the true essence of the masculine that I shake my head and feel myself wanting to weep with sorrow. The masculine is not sharp, at least not in the way we have been taught. Masculine is sharp of courage, of wit and of sight, but not of heart. We have forgotten the strength of gentleness. We have forgotten the courage it takes to show softness, to show feeling, to live in authenticity. We have forgotten the power of vulnerability.
These people shout and holler and scream that we should fight. Fighting a fight is never going to bring peace. Yes, the energy has to be met, but it has to be met and transformed; not met and fought. These people who claim to be saviours become victims of the very energy they believe they are trying to change.. Because they are not trying to change it, they are trying to kill it. Their focus is still on a point, rather than the whole.
You ask the physicists, or the biologists where the most energy is, and they will tell you it is in the space, not in the matter. We are so stuck, so restricted, so consumed by what the matter is that we miss the freedom and the flow of the most abundant thing in this universe. We are ignoring the power of the space. We are ignoring the power of the flow. We are fighting something that cannot be fought. You cannot overpower this. It cannot be fought. It has to be transformed. It has to be accepted, and love has to be brought to it so that it has no power to hate anymore. And if that cannot be done then it must be starved out. We have to stop feeding the thing we say we want to stop. Giving it energy feeds it, it fuels it, powers it.
Just stop.
Change your focus.
Come back to 3ft.
You can pretty much only influence that which is within 3ft of you and so do that. What can you reach? What can you actually DO?
You can smile.
You can love those closest to you that bit more.
You can stop wasting precious time and energy hating on things you cannot change.
You can work and strive for connection rather than separation.
You can quit talking about others with disdain and judgement and start speaking of them with love. Or else just stay quiet for there is enough pain in this world already.
You can stop pointing out what is wrong and start embracing what is healthy and right.
You can remember that you don’t need to understand another’s actions to love them.
You can stop running. Instead you can turn and face whatever it is that you fear.
You can cease being part of the problem and be part of the solution.
You can stop projecting your pain onto others and take responsibility for it.
Start by loving yourself. How you treat you is how you ultimately treat others.
We can ALL do this.
Right NOW.
Your home, your workplace, the supermarket… How do you behave? Do you act as if the world owes you? Do you treat those working hard to earn their living as lesser citizens of this world? How would you feel were the positions flipped? Have you forgotten we are all of equal value and that numbers on screens actually mean nothing and that those people you sit in judgement of may hold hearts so overflowing with love that one day you will be grateful for it because one day you will be faced with the fact that your own heart is derelict for you denied and ignored it for so long, scared of what you may find there. Then you will need their love. You will beg for it. You will plead on your knees for it. And because they Know the things that you ignored and forgot, they will welcome you with open arms and they will Love you. And your mind that you once thought was so clever will implode under the simplest of actions; a hug; a smile; the brush of a hand. And then maybe you will begin to remember that what matters is not the matter at all. It is the nuances, the spaces, the feelings, the touch, the eyes, oh those eyes, the ones that seem to see straight into your soul. This is what has meaning. Not that which we are programmed to attach value to.
And so the challenge is this: to be part of the problem or part of the solution.
You can talk big words but are you willing to put the action in.
Will you begin to surrender the fights within yourselves? Because this is where peace starts. The outer reflects the inner.
Are you doing what you want to do?
Are you being true to yourself?
Are you being the best mother, brother, sister, father, son, daughter, friend, lover, teacher, worker that you can be? Each day. In all you do.
Stop thinking about what you can get. Instead focus on what you can give. And then you will find that magic begins to occur in your life.. For as you give, so the Universe will give to you.
Give freely.
Give wholeheartedly.
Give with joy.
Give with love.
Give with peace.
And if you cannot do this then give someone the honour of receiving you, and being there for you, and holding you, and hearing you and seeing you.
Let someone see you.
The real you.
The one you think is unworthy.
The one you hide behind doors and under duvets and that you are struggling more and more to keep clamped down and that is threatening to burst out of you every time you think no one is looking.
I see you.
Yes, you.
I see you.
You are seen.
Hear this:
You are enough.
You are loved.
You are held.
These are facts woven into your flesh that if you just stopped for one split second you would hear in the silence and the spaces between.
You are seen.
You are enough.
You are loved.
You are held.
You say you want to change this world? Start with your own world. Your inner world. Your immediate world. Then one day, sooner than you think, all the worlds we each inhabit will join together and the strength of those 7.2 billion worlds will become One, as they always were and are beneath the façade we call “progress”.
Be peace.
Be love.
Be you.
Just be you. Do what makes YOUR heart sing. Do what brings YOU joy. Do what allows you to sleep peacefully at night.
This is how we change the world.
Each world, each heart, each breath, each space at a time…
For that is the point, after all…
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There are no winners in war; the “winners” suffer the same trauma as the supposed losers. The horror, the pain, the death, the sickness, the disconnection, the separation.. It’s the same. It is impossible to hurt someone from a place of connection, it just cannot be done. Soldiers are taught to disconnect. Their spirits are broken, same as we break the spirit of horses to gain control of them. With no spirit left embodied, there is nothing left to care. This is the only way people can kill, or rape, or main, or hurt. To lesser or greater degrees they are not there. Their bodies are, but their soul is not.. It is somewhere away from themselves.
We all live like this to a degree; vast quantities of our energy and awareness unknowingly distanced from us, too scared or hurt to be in full unison with our physical form. Life does this to us, and these days – and in days gone by – society has forced this upon us. Separation has been the only way to survive, to get through the days, to be seemingly unhurt and unaffected by the suffering of these human lives we live. Except we miss the point that disconnection is not what we are here for.. We are here to connect.
In a way, we all suffer the gut wrenching pains of disconnection from Source, from Love purely by being embodied, purely by being in matter. 99.999999999999% of the Universe is Space, is limitless and unconditional love, is the void, is pure God. 0.000000000000% of the Universe is matter. We are in an incredibly small minority. We are separated, purely because we have form. However, form is what allows us to touch, taste, feel, experience.. We ARE the Universe experiencing itself. We are the Universe learning more. We are love.
For love to be known it has to be felt, given and received. There is a giver, a receiver and the love itself, the gift. The rule of three. If love was left in it’s pure form as 100% of All Things, it would never be known. And love desperately wanted to be known. And so it sacrificed itself. That initial break; the initial separation at the beginning of the time of Things. It ripped itself apart. It gave birth to itself. And it hurt like heaven.
Creation almost always requires some form of breaking. When we create art, we break beauty into colour and form, and we try to capture it somehow through these broken and separate aspects. We try to put them together in a meaningful way to help heal the void we feel within ourselves. What happens when we remember the void is where all the Love that is yet to find form is? Where an unlimited and limitless supply of energy – of love – is held? Not in the matter, but in the spaces between. We got caught up focusing on the matter, but the matter was not what mattered. What mattered was everything else. The most abundant thing in this Universe, in our bodies, even on the M25 in a traffic jam, is space. Look beyond the car, look between the cars, look up, look left, look right. Look around you right now. Space. There is so, so, so, so much space. It has been scientifically proven that if you took all the space out of our bodies, what was left of a 6ft man would fit on a pin head. If you blew atoms up to the size of oranges, the space they hold would amount to football pitches.. There is a lot of space.
Maybe the sense of separation we all feel in the quiet times is the pain of that initial break.. The pain of when love gave of itself to become known. When love was willing to break in order to create, to know, to feel. And how glorious it is to feel. The wind on your face, the touch of a lover, a smile that reaches all the way through your body right to the tips of your toes, the bass beats of music resounding in your rib cage, the exquisite pain of losing a loved one knowing for it to hurt this much you must have dared greatly and loved wholly, the ecstasy of finding that someone who loves you, and who you love… The gift of being able to feel is a deep and profound thing. Joy, pain, loss, gain.. It is all just nuances of the same thing. Nuances of God, nuances of Love. It is ALL Love. For there is nothing else.
I do my best to remember this when I am left desolate and full of anger and sorrow. I try to remember this when I am struggling to reconcile the thoughts in my head with the feelings and sensations in my body, and confusion and isolation feel like the best places to reside. I try to remember this when I am saddened by the behaviour of others and of myself, and by the mass disconnection in this world. I try to remember that I am blessed because I Know. I Know the truth. It is not something that can be captured in even the most elaborate web of words, but I Know it. Love IS. And because of that, I am free.
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 2017 Where Divine Fire Glows


Bring me your rage.
Bring me your depravity.
Show me your lies, your deceit, the parts of you that you dare not enter.
Bring it all.
I want the secrets; the horrors; the traumas.
I want that which you don’t even want to acknowledge exists in you.
Bring it to the space.
And I will beat it out of you.
Every lie, every convulsion, every thrust, I will meet it with the pulse of the drum.
I will raise it.
I will taunt you with Her sound.
I will dare you to bring more.
Bring it all.
Every last piece.
Bring me the pain.
Bring me the sorrow.
Bring me the grief.
Bring me your screams of victory and of defeat.
Bring me your confusion.
Bring me your unwillingness and I will show you.
Let the rhythm take you.
Don’t even try to fight it: you will ALWAYS lose.
She beats with the Power of the Goddess, and nothing in you is bigger than that because She is it.
She is ALL.
Don’t try to pretend that you have anything I haven’t seen a thousand times before.
Don’t try and engage me in your incongruence.
Don’t even look to me.
Don’t use me as a distraction, or a life raft, or a point to hold onto.
I will drum you out even harder.
Be in it.
All of it.
Be with it.
FEEL it.
Face yourself.
I will make it impossible for you not to.
I will make you so uncomfortable that those screams will have no choice but to flow.
I will take you beyond the point of no return and keep going, because that’s where the fun is only just beginning.
You want to talk in big words, and of depth you can’t bring yourself to remember?
Then I will take you at your word and lead you into the depths.
Do you remember how to swim? How to flow? How to be?
Or will you keep fighting the current?
I will bring tsunami after tsunami interspersed with deathly silences that I hold just long enough for you to trust them before I take it up again and you are ravaged by the teeth of the rhythm.
Let it tear you apart.
Let it rip to pieces all you thought you knew.
Feel it.
FEEL it.
Flow. Dance. Scream. Shout. Pound. Wave. Pulse. Breathe. Move. Shake. Remember. Remember.
Remember what it is to beat, to pulse, to feel.
Remember what the drum says when She speaks.
Let Her show you the way Home.
Let Her smash all your illusions and leave you breathless, helpless, wanting, needing.
And let Her caress you with the silence.
With the sweetest of subtleties.
Feel the air still pulsing and pouring around you with the energy of Her voice.
Feel it settle into the deepest parts of you.
The hidden places.
The ones no one but She knows how to touch.
And She knows exactly how you need to feel Her.
With your defences gone, you cannot resist Her Love, and why would you want to?
It is the sweetest of nectars; the purest of honeys, the softest of sounds.
Let Her take you deep, deep, deep within Her.
Let Her take you over, and over, and over again.
Let Her love you further and further and further in.
All the way.
To the very heart of you.
And then,
Let Her beat with you: I am. I am. I am.

Bring me your gut wrenching desire for solace.
Bring me your need for silence
And your desperation for quietness.
Bring me your yearning for the earth.
Bring me your calling to the skies.
Bring me everything in between.
Let the softly pulsing beat remind you that you are Here.
Let the rhythm call you back Home.
To where you Are.
To Here.
To Now.
Let yourself be sung into synchronicity by the beat that never fails;
The beat that echoes the heart of All;
The beat of the Great Mystery and Great Spirit combined;
The beat of Home.
I hear the sorrow in your soul.
I feel the longing in your heart.
I know all that you desire.
And more.
Let it be.
Be here.
Feel here.
Connect here.
The beat is always in all ways and will never fail.
It is the heart of all.
Let your own pitiful, glorious warrioress of a heart be fuelled by that which never fails.
Let the power that pumps your blood be all you hear.
Hear the aliveness in you.
Hear the strength in you.
Hear the courage in you.
Hear the energy in you.
Hear the life in you.
Feel it.
Feel, even in the depths of your desperate clawings and clamourings on this earth, feel.
Feel the aching.
Feel the pain.
Feel the exhaustion.
Feel it all.
Let it remind you.
Let it teach you.
Let it guide you.
Let it be.

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I Will…

I will keep my trust with God
I will feel my way through this life
I will listen to my heart
I will hear the silent cries from my bones
I will feel the energy of my blood
I will honour its racing and the rushing that tells of danger, and I will love myself enough to be still for a moment and see what pain in me is being triggered, and needs to be seen
I will treasure the moments where peace flows through me
I will practice discernment
I will let the wind carry away my sorrow
I will let the rain cleanse me of misconceptions and judgements formed from an obscured view
I will let the sea teach me with her waves
I will let my soul fly with the falcons, sending piercing cries through the air
I will smile at the sky
I will thank the Sun for its warmth, and life giving energy, but also respect it can burn me should I spend too much time in its direct Light, and if I am burned and rendered motionless by my selfish desires, how will I ever tell of its beauty?
I will keep telling how the most beautiful sky shows require clouds
I will keep walking, however haltingly, however slowly, I will keep on
I will be unafraid to share the joy that I am blessed to experience
I will laugh loudly and clearly, and make no apology for it
I will cry, freely and without reservation, and let the voices that have no words be seen and heard in the salt water that flows from my eyes

I will honour the pain in me
I will honour the love in me
I will remember that all is Heart
I will practice Love
I will remember the Divine flows in and with and through me
I will remember the Divine flows in and with and through everything
I will remember the Divine is also the Nothingness, the seeming emptiness that is really teeming with so much Life that it would blind us if we could even begin to see the true Power of it, and so it veils itself in darkness and reveals itself piece by piece, so our eyes can adjust, and we do not lose our vision
I will hug like I mean it, because I do
I will tell people I love them, and that they are so, so, so enough
I will work on telling myself the same, and if I cannot do it, I will do my best to bypass my ears and open my heart so I can receive those sentiments from others
I will try to say thank you when someone compliments me, rather than negating it, and dishonouring the courage it takes to say something nice to someone
I will practice freedom
I will let go
I will surrender, and remember that the energy of surrendering is about as far removed from giving up as anything could possibly be… For from surrender, all things are possible
I will step beyond my pride and practice saying “I don’t know”
I will stop lying about even the little things, because if I do not know something, however seemingly unimportant it may be, I would rather give you the chance to explain it to me, and teach me about it, so I can know it. And even if I have no interest in it whatsoever, I have interest in you, and I have interest in the way it lights you up, so I want to know, or at the very least I want the pleasure of seeing you excited and on fire for something, whatever it may be
I will practice stillness, but will remember stillness does not have to involve staying in one position; stillness can be practised in motion too

I will allow myself to sleep enough hours each night so I can be at my best in the waking time
I will eat well
I will dare greatly as much as I can, and if one day I find I cannot, I will take a breath, and rest, and trust that tomorrow it may be different
I will strive to honour God, myself, others and this world in All that I do, not just the easy or obvious bits
I will take out the rubbish just before the choice is gone; before the moment where the bag is overflowing and the risk is high that the plastic will rupture and it will all fall out everywhere
I will do this as a show that I respect myself, and my environment
I will keep my home as I like it, whether that be clean and tidy, ordered chaos or somewhere in between
I will accept what others like may be different from me
I will remember neither is right or wrong, just different
I will focus on the fact that I am enough
I will practice what I preach
I will admit that I get really scared at times, and that I still hide under covers, and behind my eyes, praying someone sees me
I will tell my secrets, with discernment, to the people who have earned the right to hear them
I will not judge those who are lost, they are still walking
I will remember not all those who wander are lost
I will be of service where I can, without expectation
I will remember that but for the grace of God, there go I
I will remember death is my constant companion, but I will not fear her, instead I will let her remind me to live each moment
I will remember I am blessed
I will practice gratitude
I will keep my focus on the Here and Now
I will trust God
I will Love
I will Live

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 2017 Where Divine Fire Glows