I am from the seductive, isolated hills in Liguria with silver-green and swaying olives, explosive yellow ginestra, intoxicating verbena and perfumed damascena roses that adorn my higher terraces. I am from these divinely scented roses with their tender, soft petals and silently, ferocious thorns and I am the One that transcends these seemingly opposite polarities, the intoxicating fragrance that cannot be described with words.
I am a seed in Mother's garden, the scented roses are my teachers, helping me to stand in a living remembrance, committed to a vow I made to walk the Way of Embodied Love, however, challenging this path may be. I am a gardener of the soul, in daily communion with the rose of my own heart. I am here to disseminate the teachings of the Rose as I myself am initiated daily, liberated from my addiction to suffering, choosing instead to honour divine sovereignty and like the roses, to dare to be unashamedly radiant and unapologetically blooming with my own perfect timing. I am from Venus, ravished and satiated by beauty, recognising this ancient mystery school, the Way of the Rose, that opens the heart like nothing else and shows me that I am a divine being having a human experience, not the other way around. I am HER in this painful, human body, miraculously soothed by gorgeous aesthetics, creating beauty because it settles my overactive nervous system, opens channels to wonder and helps me feel whole, creative and connected to All That Is. I am from the ancient priestesses devotedly administering exquisite perfumes, the smoke of incense and the light of candles, the sound of distant bells with ceremonial prayers and chants, working on the garden of my inner soul, helping me adorn my earth angel wings, remembering what I have always known. I am from the mystics, bathing in rose petals, falling to my feet, ravished by the Sufi poets, who yearn like me for just one touch of the Beloved. I am from the earth and rocks, my hands sinewed like the roots of the olives, gnarly and old, scratched to smithereens but stronger and more resilient than ever. I am from the simple farmers as guardians of the land, who work from dawn to dusk, remembering the sacred nature of our soil and the plentiful, wholesome produce, that responds just like my four-footed companions, to the love and respect it is offered. Simple pleasures they may be but in my personal and cultural madness, devoid of self compassion, I had forgotten my roots, lost touch with my own cycles and rhythms and more importantly, how my very own terrain is intimately connected to the web of life. I am from the hidden, dilapidated rustico, that is a dark, yet fecund space of pure potential, asking to be restored, longing to be recognised for the divine womb space that in its moist darkness, is a blessing to all pilgrims who have ears to hear and eyes to see. I am from a prayer uttered from the depths of my being, that called me to this land ten years ago, a soul whispering I chose to listen to. I am from Pozzuolo here in Italy, which is my soul home, where I know every rock and tree that exists, every stone that has been built by strong male hands to create structure and safety in this womb haven. This land, this sacred task that has demanded blood, sweat and tears, every ounce of my creative initiative and finance, while I screamed at the unfairness of what was being asked of me, that has miraculously brought me back to my body and to my sanity. I am the land that I naively came to conquer in my own version of toxic patriarchy, now re-shaped and modelled after three landslides and flooding, stamping HER feet, teaching me about humility, devotion and the presence of being here and now. Ruthlessly beautiful, refusing to be dominated, forcing me to surrender and come home into right relationship with this beautiful land and my own body terrain. I am from Mother Gaia, reminding me with her green outpourings in the smell of the damp moss, the succulent taste of the prickly pears and figs, one sniff of a rose, the lovemaking of the bees, to be here right now, in reverence, gratitude and remembrance for HER holy and abundant grace, that emanates from within me and that SHE has always poured on me and on the world.
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Years ago, in my forties, I attended a week long Hoffman personal/spiritual growth course in an attempt to support getting my life and health back. This is the story that inspired the poem as written below: On the first day, we are called to a large room to introduce ourselves with an exercise where we each stand in front of the whole group to share something vulnerable we have never told anyone before. I am shocked and it feels way too confronting. I want to run but I'm frozen at the same time knowing I cannot. One man in his forties bravely steps up to face us, dropping into his past memory, wearing his yuppie suit and sporting his badge which says 'Lost Boy'. He suddenly looks so crest fallen and lost, sharing his desperately sad story at age seven being sent away to boarding school. I am mesmerised, so touched by this courageous man daring to be so tender and real, I want to go and hug him but my mind is working overtime. Others quickly follow, all so powerful. I am in hyper anxiety, hugely out of my comfort zone and frantically trying to think of what I might say when it is my turn. I have no story. I am totally blank. There is no escape. My name is called. Holding my breath, somehow I am propelled to step out of my chair as requested. I'm blank and in shock, but as I turn to look at the unfamiliar faces in front of me, a clear memory surfaces out of nowhere, that I have not remembered in thirty years. I seem not to be in control as the flood gates open for this hidden story that I have no idea even exists. The words fall out of my mouth so fast without censorship, despite feeling startled with so many faces staring back at me. Where on earth is this story coming from, who is revealing it after so long? I don't know that this is one of many stories that I have repressed. I don't yet appreciate why I have total amnesia under the age of eleven in my house. I don't yet know that this is why Bob Hoffman has a powerful statement in his marketing material, about how all of us learn to 'put whipped cream over garbage' as a way to survive. I'm simply on auto-pilot with Hoffman safety and permission where somehow, the gag restriction on this particular memory has temporarily been lifted. Time stands still and rushes crazily at the same time, words appearing from nowhere as my story is re-membered and given voice. I can't believe I am sharing the intimate details which I have never told anyone, not even to myself and that I am sharing to a group of complete strangers. But I am. I am in two places at once, back on a train going to Germany at age 14 and here in this room in my forties. Suddenly it's over. I have no more words. I am stunned and I sense that so are all the others because there is a deathly silence in the room. I walk back to my place, shaking and deeply moved. My legs are wobbly just as they were back on the train at age 14. I feel incredibly vulnerable wanting to run and hide as shame kicks in but at the same time, somehow more alive and surprisingly liberated. It's a strangely comforting feeling like I have in the 12 step rooms. I am part of a nourishing community of people wanting to heal, by delving deep into their psyches and I am here, trusting to the resonance, loving acceptance and cohesion already being created. Day one on this Hoffman intense week and I begin to piece together the jigsaw of my life and how I came to normalise one of many violations that took place. I recognise what a powerful medicine it is, to have an enlightened witness or group of empathic souls, who can hear our stories and more importantly how this co-creative field helps us to heal the invisible scars we have all endured. Many years after this Hoffman training at age 58, as a result of going through menopause, I find myself writing this poem below, when encouraged by a friend, to use only three words every line. The issue of my feminine sexuality continues to be a healing topic, as it is for so many of my generation and I want to give voice to the brave shadow work that is necessary, to return back to these exiled, fragmented and lost places within us that are desperately seeking love, deep compassion and reconnection. It is our collective, global awakening and healing on the planet right now to complete these unfinished conversations and so I share this story with gratitude to the Hoffman Process because what I heal in myself, I know I help heal for others. POEM WRITTEN some 10 years later I only remember Travelling to Germany On a train With a friend Fourteen years old Free summer holiday Boy’s school trip Father in charge With no warning And no preparation A sudden shock My body changed What to do? Perhaps I dared To mention this? Innocent young girl Hoping for help So very confused Mother in panic Furtive and rushed Clearly she said In frustrated voice It’s the ‘curse’ Worst thing ever Swimming is impossible We must control This terrible 'problem' You have caused “I know best” She who ruled And dictated from Dark Age parenting Alienated from body Made it clear Who was I To question this? No personal power Boundaries long gone Acting on command My friend mute In the sidelines Frozen and shame-bound I crouched down Rattling train compartment Mirroring body tremors In my ears Silent word ‘pariah’ Contracted and exposed Knickers pulled down With no explanation No kind words She rammed hard Broke my hymen Penetrating hard object “I AM TAMPAX” Harsh internalised patriarchy Mother’s directing hand Stealing my virginity Momentary screaming pain What just happened? Vagina in shock Trauma locks in I have left Wise internal voice Saves my life "Pull yourself together Show no emotions…. Mother knows best" So without choice Stoically zipping up While broken inside I quietly die Yet another death….. One of many I am now Pubescent, young teenager On the outside Able to swim Business as normal On the inside Fragile owner of Clinical white object Phallic and hard Invading my space Done and dusted Devoid of love Matching my own Sense of objectification Disembodied, sterile, dry Compliant and conforming Bleeding from inside Body and soul Stark initiation recall Implicit cellular memories Body sensations that Haunt me still My body remembers New found womanhood Midst sanitised shame Rejected body fluids Bruised and defiled Without honouring ritual It's so clear I’m not immune To ancestral legacy Hidden epigenetic trauma Teaching body hatred These ghostly imprints Passed down through Generations of shame Toxic masculine programming Driven patriarchy and Demonic religious agendas Attempting soul murder Silently brainwashing and Disinfecting feminine wisdom Creating anaesthetised, disembodied Sweet, immature maidens Performing in stilettos Taming our wildness Pleasure as forbidden Controlling this life-force Potent womb power\ Blamed yet again Oh but now…. Everything is changing You buried us Forgetting we're seeds You blamed us As dirty whores It didn't work We are forged In the darkness In Mother's womb We are rising With fierce compassion Across the globe Dragon's fire blazing Mothers and daughters Sisters in circle Reclaiming our dignity Honouring our rights/rites Holy sacred warriors Emissaries of light Resilient, fully prepared Prophetic destiny assured I am all too familiar with shame, the construct that has been put here on the planet to enslave and keep us away from our true nature, particularly those of us born female. I have lived with crippling and toxic shame all my life only to realise more clearly now, how this programming and brainwashing has been part of a long term global, trauma based and mind control, Luciferian agenda, that is now more clearly being exposed. So…. instead of focussing on the shame of what is wrong with me, where I have failed, what aspects of co-dependency I am still stuck with, I am choosing to focus on where I HONOUR myself for what I have achieved and navigated, in spite of toxic patriarchy. This is not a bypass but rather, a conscious decision to pendulate and titrate how easily I can default to shame and choosing to focus more on self honour and self celebration. So here are a few statements where instead, I honour and stand as author of my unique heroine's journey, proud to share how I have transformed and used my personal challenges and trauma as a portal to awakening and healing: "I honour myself for choosing to incarnate into an extremely dysfunctional, 'nice', English family in order to experience being brainwashed, taken over and annihilated, (much like Alice Miller talks with 'The Drama of a Gifted Child'), such that with this soul injury and programming, I split off all awareness of who I was and became an anaethethised, disembodied superwoman"….and.......... "I honour the journey of reclaiming and re-membering myself from underneath these deep layers and layers of conditioning, abuse, deception and mind programming, in order to finally reclaim lost, exiled and fragmented parts of myself, split off as a result of pre-verbal and complex trauma, both personally and inter-generationally" "I honour the endurance, the fortitude, the bravery, the commitment and the immense strength, to keep going against all odds with a cruel and debilitating illness and complex PTSD, in order to forge a path back to my heart and back to the divine sovereign being that I am......and to reconnect with my Higher Power, to my body and to little Hilary in order to shine my light as an emissary and soul guide, to help others remember the incredible light of who they really are" "I honour my willingness and the responsibility and accountability of facing full on the dis-regulation and blind spots that exist in my own system and globally, in order that I can know this separation from love that happens as a result of trauma….. and bring as much unconditional love and acceptance, in order to combat my own shadow and 'lockdown' places and to fully face the depths of evil and covert genocide on the planet at this time, that seeks to have us forget who we really are, to blind us to our beauty and to our spiritual true nature" "I honour the incredible light of my divine sovereignty, the revolution inside every cell of my body, this divine genome and the sacred codes of love, that like a seed that was buried, is stronger than ever from being forged in the dark." Today is my birthday, the day I was born. Today is the 63rd anniversary of the day you didn't make it. My birthday and your death both rolled into one. It's been taboo until now. Nothing made any sense. This day for me has always been a torture yet I never knew why. A day of pretence. The day I incarnated into hell on earth. The day I made it without you.
As I share these words I'm welling up. 62 birthdays. Now another one to tick off and pretend that it's a celebration. Today I will do it differently. Today I will walk to the tiny grave I made for you under the statue of Magdalene. Today I will be present with this truth. The truth that everyone chose to ignore including me. The truth that exists in every cell of my body. The ache and sorrow, the holy brokenness that resides. My beloved twin. My brother. I have no words. I have no energy to explain what took place. All those birthdays without you at my side. All those missed memories holding your hand. Sharing adventures. Supporting each other. So much heart ache. Grief backed up like a dam. Wanting to come home to be with you. Finding it so hard to be here in this body, on Earth. Finally stopping the pretence. Coming home to myself. To my truth as it is now. This reality, this loss without you. One day soon we will be together again. One day soon I will hold your hand and know I am home again. Complete. This earth plane is so brutal, so unrelenting. I miss you bro. So much. It's been so lonely here, so unbearable. I am holding your hand today. Across the heart waves. Understanding why it's so painful on this day. More at peace allowing what is. Allowing myself to cry, to feel you, to celebrate our union. Yesterday I was in resistance, praying that today, my birthday would not come. Wanting to run away so badly. I didn't know why. It's clearer now. My little one was screaming, raging inside saying 'no I don't want another birthday, I hate them, I'm terrified of how I feel, so alone, so heart broken'. Last night, I prayed the Rosary Prayer, beseeched Magdalene, the floodgates opened, my heart softened. I wept for hours. I had closed my heart, the pain was too great. Repeated betrayals, your loss was the worst. The deepest wound I could not reconcile. Now I have turned inside, to the tiny, fragile foetus this one that knows and remembers. I am honouring her for all she endured. Honouring her pain, allowing her rage and drenched tears. For the terrifying experience of birthing into her reality here without you, with no protection, exposed and alone. Honouring the soul, stark choice I made on the other side, to go through such experiences of loss together with the brainwashing and 'take over' but this time, allowing the human feelings too. I am an elder now. An ascended master in training. I know we are not really separate. It's an illusion and my choice now is what matters. I'm strong enough to hold all that arises, all the polarities. I can be with intensity and choose to not push it away. I can honour all the experience, all the feelings. Give up the resistance. Stop pretending to please others and allow 'what is'. My birthday. Your funeral. To really honour this reality, not play lip service to it. The day I lived, the day you did not. I can dare to face this reality now, to feel the depths of feelings pent up inside. One breath after the other. Alone. Holding this tender part of me so closely as she wails for her beloved brother. As I honour her wretched experience of endless, miserable birthdays, devoid of love. Helping her finally to be with the inconsolable grief and ending. For her, birthdays are tragic. This is a stark reality that needs to be included now. She was never held through the shock, never helped to manage the loss. It's time for me to be holding her, to help her through. I can do this now. It doesn't matter that no-one ever told the truth or honoured what happened. It doesn't matter that no-one else understands or negates our experience. My body does not lie. Self compassion is the key. It's time for me to hold her now. I couldn't do it before. Now today on my birthday I'm present. I am committed to honour my little one each morning on waking, especially today, holding Ruggles our teddy bear and when she needs, to read her stories of Paddington Bear. I will hold her each day as we wake to another day without you and bravely make a choice to live fully, even without you at our side. Not to forget you. Not to suppress you. Not to pretend for everyone else. To be here with both realities of life and death, not one or the other. Today I honour both my birthday and your funeral. Not just two words but the enormity of what this entails. I will not brush over it and play games anymore. Until now, I couldn't integrate my heart and womb together, to feel the ferocity of my torturous feelings. Today, I hold you my dear brother in my heart and feel the unbearable sorrow that is always there and…… I breathe deeply and choose to fully honour this life as well. I may be happy. I may be sad. It is all welcome. I'm done with being the walking dead, this is over. Finally, I am gentle with myself with all that is here. Today especially. Thank you little Hilary for helping me return to you, to be the loving parent you never had. Thank you for the depths of your tenderness, the pure love and the receptivity and wisdom of the sacred feminine. Thank you sweet brother for helping me open my heart and allow grief to soften and tenderise me. Thank you for inducting in me the truth of the sacred masculine, for the strong presence that is anchored in me always by my gnosis of you. The Christ/Christa beloveds that resides in my own heart and womb together, this sacred marriage that is you, that is me. Thank you Magdalene for teaching me The Way of Compassion, the Way of the Rose. Thank you for helping me return to my innocent heart, to be kinder to everything that arises, to allow my womb wisdom and to bring everything back to the crucible of my heart. To transform, to transmute and to transcend, The three T's. I am the perfumed roses with their scented divine petals and I am also the vicious thorns. I am the polarities that exist and the One that goes beyond all of this, the fragrance that cannot be described with any words.
I am from Venus, ravished and satiated by beauty, recognising this pathway that opens the heart like nothing else. I am HER in this painful, human body, miraculously soothed by gorgeous aesthetics, creating beauty because it settles my overactive nervous system, opens channels to wonder and helps me feel whole, creative and connected to All That Is. I am from the ancient priestesses devotedly administering exquisite perfumes, the smoke of incense and the light of candles, the sound of distant bells with ceremonial prayers and chants, filling up my soul, helping me adorn my earth angel wings, remembering what I have always known. I am from the mystics, falling to my feet, ravished by the Sufi poets, who yearn like me for just one touch of the Beloved. I am from the addicts and homeless souls living on the streets, who are so broken, so empty, that I needed to drive myself into an early grave because the unresolved pain in my own system and those of my tortured ancestors that had never been acknowledged, was simply too much. I might have pretended otherwise, that I am from a different class of addiction as a workaholic, super-achiever but a gaping hole inside is a gaping hole and, whatever your chosen addiction is, ultimately it's a coping strategy to find some desperately needed comfort. I am one of the empathic souls, aching for a multi-dimensional model to tap into, sponges for entire family systems, scapegoated by a survival system and society that is not willing to see the larger Truth. Instead, those souls blinded by their ignorance and intellectual arrogance, denying and bypassing their own shadow, project their disowned vulnerability on other scapegoated and betrayed souls who by the brutal grace of their suffering, have been forged to wake up and see beyond the illusion and enslavement that entraps the masses. I'm from the era of Enid Blyton, the English children's author, captivated in my teens and immersed in the magic and wonder that these characters evoked in me with their different adventures. Apparently at thirteen, I was too old for such frivolities and needed to grow up. So to avoid such shame, I am instead, from the era of super, perfectionist, workaholic, middle class Maggie Thatcher look-alikes with a string of 'burn outs', broken health and relationships being a marker for this unacknowledged madness and collective trauma. I am of course, a child of Tarzan and Jane, for those who remember the television series that captivated so many and right now in my spiritual maturity, gained from hard life experience where I've reconnected with my lost inner children, there is no doubt that building a tree house is a definite must on the Bucket List, regardless and perhaps because of Italian laws that say otherwise. I am from religious sinners and toxic patriarchy, seeking redemption for merely existing, the prostitute and whore for daring to have a female body. I am the child of mothers berating me for the inconvenience of my first bleed, 'cursed' for letting this happen, desperate to cover the shame of being so flawed and fouled. I am from the Suffragettes and activists who went before, secretly excited to be part of a new team of Love-Rebels who, having been asked for too much life blood, too much sacrifice, now demand and commit to sovereignty and freedom, even if it means death by burning at the stake. No I will not conform to wearing a mask any longer, of any kind. I am from those who being so programmed, have smashed through their cages and consciously changed the job title of limiting roles. My scapegoat is now an uncompromising whistleblower determined to speak truth at all cost, and the brutal inner critic so intent on destroying me for so long, is miraculously a deeply loyal and discerning judge. I am from the sacred breath that finally gives me dominion over my own temple space, this in and out cycle of life and death that connects us all. This breath that I had blocked from my own body, in a desperate attempt to keep demons at bay, a survival strategy of disconnection in order to manage complex trauma……only to realise that now, this One breath that is mine, IS the beloved whispering to me in each moment. I am from the animals, the dog kingdom in particular, who lavish on me the adoration and acceptance that helps me return back to my own heart, to remember that love is all that matters. I am from my abandoned and beloved dog Chammy who cannot bear to be separated from me lest she will lose herself in abject loneliness. I am from my wild and orgasmic dog Misha, who found me here in the mountains and who taught me that it doesn't matter who likes or dislikes you, so long as you step up to be who you really are, with no apology and complete reverence for life itself in each moment. I am from my first dog Archie who taught me how to open my heart and walk in the woods, remembering how far away from home I had truly become, in this search for stardom that was never my own and the emptiness I could never fill of my starved mother. I am from the suburban streets of Buckhurst Hill with its Mrs Bouquet demands and too many elephants in the room to begin to explain. I am the daughter of John and Margaret, swimming champion and tom boy in my street. The perfect house with perfect Sanderson covered sofas and perfect matching children. I am from the Corona Viruses, an indispensable part of our majestic earth micro-bium, so cruelly vilified. I too had forgotten to live by nature's laws and forgot in my ignorance that I am nothing without them. My soil is theirs and theirs is mine, we are not separate. I choose the symbolic truth of what it means in this secret Third World War and Luciferian agenda, because I know it is really a Sacred War to return to the light, to my own divine nature and the symbiotic relationship that must be fully honoured and recalled to its rightful place. I am from the crone Goddess Dhumavati, exhausted, shattered and 'stuck' for years in apparent hopelessness, only to find the stunning gifts and medicine offered by HER, of patience, wisdom, humility, peace and holy grace. I am from martyrs like Joan of Arcs, who gave up everything, knowing that nothing was more important than holy listening, wholeheartedly trusting and surrendering to their sacred mission whatever the cost. I am the Divine Child recognising my humble place, letting go of any entitlement that is not mine to own, finally able to forgive myself for being a holy mess of a human, and finally honouring my own trampled and yet exquisitely beautiful divinely, sovereign nature. Just as Rumi said 'My father is the transcendent godhead and my mother is the embodied godhead and I am their divine child, dancing for them both on their burning dance floor". BELOVED VETIVERT
"Whom should I turn to, if not the One whose darkness is darker than night, the only one who keeps vigil with no candle, and is not afraid - the Deep One, whose being I trust….." Rilke I am the Temple Keeper of the holy oil of Vetivert. My medicine and balm is subtle and pungeant, strong and delicate, sweet and musty, quietly shocking at times but I do this to bring you 'home' to your senses, back to your sacred, body temple. I am unfathomable. In my depth, intensity and safety, one drop of my perfume goes the distance……..heightens the senses, penetrates and enlivens, awakens intimate juices and patiently lights the fire of a molten lava that is unstoppable. I am earthy and I am the one who needs to be heard and acknowledged, the embodied, immanent One. I am Her-Story, Her fragrance. She will be silenced and mute no more. As I go down and root with her fecund and unlimited umbilical power, I rise to speak the unspeakable and be a voice for the voiceless, to go into this en-dark-en-ment territory and to stand victoriously with fierce grace, for what is a deeper truth, the one with a capital T. My mission as a detective, as a shadow midwife, is to go deep into the forbidden, dark territories of the underworld and to root out secrets and lies that have been perpetrated against the innocent ones. I leave no stone unturned, trusting to my gut knowing, releasing fear and stepping instead into my expansive, all powerful beauty as a light-bearer for this Truth. I am here to expose what few will dare to say, to stand as a whistleblower and be strong enough, secure enough in my womb and gnosis to speak, in order to be an emissary for the light of Sophia Christ, for that which serves the greater awakening. My mission is rooted in the ancient womb mysteries, cutting through the bullshit with my Sword of Truth, devouring all darkness and exposing the deceptive, master-plan and infiltration of the 'Silent Saints', masquerading as the holy ones. Vetivert is this strength and rootedness, the tough love of the Great Mother, as She holds the keys and the ancient knowledge. It is Her fertile and vibrant body, that holds the discernment and intuitive wisdom of who is a Silent Saint or who is in fact in masterful disguise. My work is not for the faint-hearted for I am willing to go down and through, in order to forge a path through the dark and shadows, to the light returning with the heroine's treasure. Through my magic and alchemy, I teach you how to transform crippling shame into reverence and devotion, this is my mastery. I am here to restore the erotic innocence template that is our stolen birthright, to carve a pathway to pleasure instead of sin and retribution and to honour the sovereign path of Sacred Marriage. Many do not have the eyes to see or the ears to hear but those who are the Temple Keepers of Vetivert, know the depths of our Being-ness that can be mined and distilled and the bountiful treasure and re-union that lies deeply buried in the ruin itself. Vetivert is a woman of substance. Make no mistake. She is an advocate and champion for justice and inspired action, on behalf of the True Silent Saints, not the fake and false flags, but the ones who have been forged in the darkness, who have forgotten they have earth angel wings. She stands for the ones who have been waiting a long time to be welcomed home to the Mother's unbounded and merciful love, to Her eternal embrace and to Her karuna compassion as She speaks: 'I am holding you now. Rest here, in the safety of my womb. There is nothing you need to do and nowhere you need to go. Feel the depth of my holy presence. Embody this safety, come home to yourself just as you are. Honour everything. And receive these words in the chalice of your precious heart…………there is nothing you can do to stop me loving you, simply nothing. Rest beloved, trust in the pure fragrance of your own being………in you I am well pleased'. "It is foolish to think that we will enter heaven without entering into ourselves" Theresa d'Avila
I live in Liguria, Italy with my partner Ardhan and four footed animals, on an isolated olive tree farm, growing perfumed roses and golden helichrysum and creating natural produce from the land. I have undergone extensive and long trainings in many modalities, specifically with Transforming Dialogue and Shamanic Ritual Family Constellation and more recently with Alchemy and other breath work. I have been on a long journey to heal individual and inter-generational trauma with the 'brutal grace' of chronic, debilitating illness as my initiation and greatest teacher. I have a storehouse of knowledge and many tools, but it is the dark nights of the soul and 'burn out', that initiated me as a wounded and mystic healer, leading me to a path of spiritual embodiment and divine sovereignty. I now call myself a 'trauma informed, shame midwife', as I knows that all light workers and empathic souls, have a wounded healer pattern, which is about making the darkness conscious in order to be a vessel of Mother's holy grace. Relentless shadow work and belief in my own happy ending, has led me to find, that radical self trust is the gift of darkness. My mission is to help people see how they can re-invent themselves over and over. As an enlightened witness, I act as a bridge to help jump start other beating hearts, so that they reconnect with the intimate territory of their soul. Because of my own lived experience I guide others with tenderness and compassion, to reclaim their vitality, aliveness and sovereignty, to be the author of their own lives and from a multi-dimensional perspective. As one who has walked this path, I can help inspire others to see how their greatest wounds, these sacred obstacles, can and do become the golden treasure and the healing medicine they can offer to this broken world. I am from the seductive, isolated hills in Liguria with silver green and swaying olives, explosive yellow ginestra, intoxicating Verbena and perfumed Damascena roses that adorn my higher terraces. I am from the earth and rocks, my hands sinewed like the roots of the olives, gnarly and old, scratched to smithereens like the damaged bark bashed by excavators but stronger and more resilient than ever. I am from the simple farmers who work the land from dawn to dusk, remembering the sacred nature of our soil and the plentiful, wholesome produce, that responds just like my four footed companions, to the love and respect it is offered. Simple pleasures they may be but in my personal and cultural madness, I had forgotten my roots, lost touch with my own cycles and rhythms, how my very own terrain is intimately connected to the web of life. I am from the hidden, dilapidated rustico, that is a dark, yet fecund space of pure potential, asking to be restored, longing to be recognised for the divine womb space that in its moist darkness, will offer unlimited potentials to all who have ears to hear and eyes to see. I am from a prayer uttered from the depths of my being, that called me to this land ten years ago, a soul whispering I chose to listen to. I am from Pozzuolo here in Italy, that is my soul home, where I know every rock and tree that exists, every stone that has been built by strong male hands to create structure and safety in this womb haven. This land, this sacred task that has demanded blood, sweat and tears, every ounce of my creative initiative and finance, while I screamed at the unfairness of what was being asked of me, that has miraculously brought me back to my body and to my sanity. I am the land that I naively came to conquer in my own version of toxic patriarchy, now re-shaped and modelled after stamping HER feet, teaching me about humility and devotion. Ruthlessly beautiful and refusing to be dominated. I am from Mother Gaia, reminding me with her green outpourings in the smell of the damp moss, the succulent taste of the prickly pears and figs, the lovemaking of the bees, to be here right now, honouring, in reverence for HER, for the HOLY grace that she has always poured on me and on the world. The passion and love of a heartbeat so sweet Two souls entwined, tenderly meet Embracing ife, nourished together United, excited, a bond that's forever Lying here in my bed, I softly return to this place Surrender my flesh to our liminal space I close my eyes, easily feel your presence The expanse of the cosmos, caressing your essence LETTER FROM MY UNBORN TWIN - re-read at his burial 31.12.19 Dearest Hilary, my beloved twin and soul sister. Slow down and breathe as you are eating, feel me, there is no rush, no need to fear. I hear your fast heart beat, the perpetual anxiety as if you are ‘beside yourself’. I want you to know that I never actually left you. I am at your side, drop down and reconnect with me if you dare. As you hear this, I see that you well up with tears but this is because you know the truth. It is almost too painful for you to handle, simply because of the depth of your longing to re-connect with me. It has been so very long and I have so missed you too. This is the gift of being open, of being able to feel, it is not for the fainthearted. The path of vulnerability, is the path of the heart. Unless you feel the grief, you cannot feel the joy of being together with me, the union that we shared that can never be broken or undone. If I died to you and was just a tiny foetus that meant nothing, then what we had was never blessed and acknowledged. This is your resistance of what really took place and creates great suffering. How with this, can you experience the joy of re-union with me, how can we celebrate and nourish each other, as we once did? More importantly, how can you reclaim life with this death sentence, this half life, playing itself out over and over? You have been terrified to go back to what happened, to allow the desperate emotions to be there, to give full presence to me. You shut down and cut off to survive and now you are opening and yes it hurts. It hurts like hell. You are feeling this original severance, this attachment anxiety and it feels like a death, which it is. There was a real death, it did happen, even if there was never an official funeral in the outside world. This is about you acknowledging the deep wound and loss you have carried for so long. It is deeply painful and there is no short cut, even if I could willingly give it to you. It hurts because energetically, you never allowed me to go, you could never accept the reality of birthing on your own without me. You froze with the sudden shock, you went into survival mode and you stopped breathing. You experienced being ripped in two, wrenched apart. It was like this. We were severed and separated at a physical level. You did lose your other half, we were a duo, we are twins and always will be. I’m so sorry you had to go through this, that you were the one who had to incarnate alone and go through so much on the earthly plane. It is like this for twins who lose their other half, it is such a special and unique relationship and few understand the gaping hole that is left as a result and that never goes away at a physical and emotional level. How I left was brutally quick and shocking and I know what this did to you. I’m desperately sorry it had to be like this, there was no alternative, trust me I had no choice. More you will understand at a later date but right now you have to just know, I had no choice but to leave abruptly with no warning. The truth is that I never left you energetically. It just felt like that to you, because one minute we were in a close embrace and the next you couldn’t feel my heartbeat or my arms wrapped around you. You had to shut down to cope. It was a severe shock and your nervous system did not fully recover as a result. It was like swimming in a black hole, desperately searching for what had happened after being hit full on by a tsunami. I miss you greatly because I haven’t been able to reach you for so long. It is up to you to be open to connect with me, with us, we cannot get through if the path is blocked. It’s different here, the separation and anxiety doesn’t happen in the same way as the attachment traumas you are currently clearing on earth. In this respect, I cannot fully understand what you experience with your sense of abandonment, the feeling of being so separate, the depths of terror in your core. This isn’t our reality here. I only know that my love for you is absolute and has always been the same, whether we were together or as now apart in different realms of consciousness. This is my teaching from the other side. You incarnated, this was your choice to be in a physical body, not to be with me in spirit. It wasn’t a mistake. I chose to return. In your rushing through life as a survivor of so much trauma, you have ‘missed’ me and the connection I have longed to have with you. I am here if you slow your vibrations and drop down into your belly, allow for the spaciousness in your womb, which is the seed word that was planted in your being, only the other night. There is no actual separation at an etheric level, this is only a limiting belief of being human as you seek to heal this original and sacred wound. You don’t have to leave your physical body to experience me, this is one way we can meet in the cosmos, but you can feel that I am also here in your heart. This is the feminine, embodied way that has been for too long forgotten and suppressed. You know me, as you know Rambo your beautiful, protective Alsatian dog who lives in spirit, feeling his gifts within you and integrating them as part of you. I have always been here. I am your playful, adoring, blonde and beloved brother. I am your twin, your Adonis, your Shiva, your masculine energy, your other half. There is no more need to search for this outside. This is the gift I bring you, if you open up to the love that we have and have always had. Why would I be separate from you, when you are my twin, when I am part of you and vice versa? This is a reality, this is what happened, how we both chose to come together in this way as part of a karmic agreement. How do you think that you have survived up until now without me? We belong together and I know that this is a truth because you have welled up again with tears in your eyes, your gut tightening and wrenching again. Yes we are separate in the physical world, we cannot touch and share the joys we would have done together but we have something special on a different level. I know it is not the same for you on earth, you feel such a loss of my physical presence and this is understandable given your lonely existence as a child without me at your side. I want to help you find connection in a different way, to show you resources that you can tap into, that you had no idea were even available until now. There is so much you have yet to understand, that is not of the human dimension, so much magic that you can open to with my help. Who do you think has whispered in your ears all this time to get you where you are now? Who do you think is making you cry right now, if I am not here with you? What does it matter if no-one knows you had a twin because I left in the early stages? What does it matter, if there is no proof, if you and I have this beloved connection that you feel in every cell of your being, your somatic truth that can’t be denied any longer? What proof are you searching for, when you feel me as part of you, entwined as we always were in an embrace that is for eternity? This is our secret joy, our intimate knowing that no-one else is part of. And yet again you weep when I say this because you are a romantic, you feel me, you love me as your beloved because we are One. This is what we came together in the womb to experience, this is our special union, our unique gnosis. Why do you assume that this was a mistake, or God’s wrath, that there was some error in the karmic decision that happened? What if we both chose this as a radical decision to grow in the alchemic cauldron of losing each other in this painful way? Who are you to decide that you were meant to be with me as a twin on earth, instead of just experiencing the bliss we had in the womb? You, who know me intimately, somatically, subtly, you who do not need to have the flesh reality to recognise the direct experience of something ‘other worldy’, from another dimension. What if this was part of an overall plan, a mythic bigger picture, to help you integrate your masculine and feminine parts, the Shiva and Shakti dance within, the Sacred Marriage, the You and the Me? Perhaps I am your Merlin, your knight in shining armour, your projected male part that has never really left? Perhaps we are all one and the same anyway? This part that can now protect and keep you safe for always? Perhaps this is what you came to know, this is your path that so many do not recognise or even notice, your ability to read energy, straddle different worlds. Perhaps this is the gift of our coming together and our continuing relationship, albeit not one that makes sense in the world of matter and form? You have resisted me for so long, refused to fully acknowledge my existence, except periodically with moments of intense longing and now with a much deeper awareness of what is your truth. So much shame, emptiness and confusion that dominated your every move. In truth, what does it matter if the end consequence is to know how to love more? Nothing else matters, your body intuitive wisdom does not lie, it is exquisitely conscious and awake in every respect and you know this. What better teaching could you have of what is real or not real, to help others in this respect, to widen their perspective because of your experience of subtle energies, of other dimensions, the gift of the shattered heart? To go beyond the black and whites, to entertain the grey, to be humble in not knowing what lies beyond our mental and egoic capacity. Perhaps you have a gift to teach others with this pre-verbal sensitivity learned from hard and personal experience? Perhaps accepting the possibility that I exist, is your ability, your tuned antennae to go beyond the physical form, to separate out from the dense matter as the only way of experiencing life? I am so excited that you have slowed down because now I can reach you, though I’m sad you had to be forced by brutal grace to stop in this way. Something radical had to happen as you were stuck in overdrive. You needed to rest and eventually with no choice because of your health, you have come to surrender in this empty place of the Great Mother. And in this place of ‘not knowing’, of grieving and letting go of all your strategies and control mechanisms, we can meet again, in the mystery, as if for the first time. You can begin to receive at last, to let me in. Perhaps this was the only way to open your heart and bring you to your knees, to teach you the real meaning of compassion? You are a courageous survivor, there is no doubt, but in truth you are actually here to thrive and know abundance, not just the heroic path of struggle and survival. This is why I am wanting to re-connect with you, to show you another way. But first, it is necessary for you to fully accept and grieve that I didn’t join you on earth and we will never connect in this way. To stand fully alone with this emptiness and loss without a man at your side to play my missing role. What I need to say here though, to soften the blow, is that this death phase will not be long lived, even if you fear it to be so. You have done so much inner work and after so long in the underworld, you are so ready to put on your wings and fly. Mostly the grief is your fear of stepping up to living life in a more joyful and abundant way, partly out of not believing that such a joy and magic is possible after so many years of chronic illness, betrayals and disempowerment. It’s hard for you to fully trust that this might happen, to believe in your body being your own, this place of deep connection and sovereignty, that can never again be taken or wrenched away. This is trauma you can let go of now as you see the mythic story playing out. A final word as you are in transition from the patriarchal, old way based on survival. As part of this new paradigm, you must be particularly vigilant because it is inevitable for your inner saboteur to be very close by, as it is his patriarchal task to keep you small and therefore as he believes, safe. This was true in the past, it was a survival strategy that was necessary, even if now it holds you back from your true potential and essence. Just notice this is happening, be compassionate with your addictive tendencies as you raise your ceiling and step out of your comfort zone. Take care as you habitually reach for the comfort blankets, be it coping alone and isolating or over eating dark chocolate. You must honour the truth that you incarnated alone for a reason, it was not a mistake and you cannot change it, nor as you know, am I coming to rescue you. No-one is coming because you are your own sacred heart warrior and for this reason you came. Nor is Ardhan or any other man for that matter going to change what happened. They cannot ever replace or be me. You are to reclaim your life for yourself, this is the learning right now and the reason for your current initiation path as a Priestess. You must contemplate and allow this reality to be really felt and acknowledged with whatever that takes. You must continue to remember and to allow the feelings to open your heart over and over again. This is what it means by radical responsibility. You cannot bypass the grieving and letting go process. Life is a cycle of death and re-birth which cannot be denied. This is your on-going initiation as you heal this sacred wound and allow the death process to inform and guide you. You have to accept that you chose to come into the world alone, even if that sometimes seems too much to bear at a personality level. And that you came for a good reason, you have a mission, strong medicine, a Dharma that is unique and special to you. Only when you have grieved and gone through the death process, can you go beyond your limited thinking and open to the new. Only then as a brave heart, can you travel with me to the stars and beyond. Only then will you see that we have never really been apart, as the heart holds everything with its infinite wisdom and unbounded capacity for love. There are no limits. Come fly with me….I love you, please forgive me, thank you, I’m sorry. In anticipation, Graham xxxxxxxxxxxxx What of my life that I should sink so low
Anaesthetised victim in a puppet show Parents and society condoning the whole game Illusion and denial so no-one’s to blame Programmed as a child to have no rights, and no vice Defenceless, numbed out, a vampire’s paradise Predators feeding ground, no questions asked Programmed to be perfect, any weakness tightly masked Betrayal by the ones who are supposed to care Caught up in pretences and the masks they wear A spiritual vacuum where stoicism rules Creating emotional cripples and unaware fools So what of your dreams, golden girl Why did they never have a chance to unfurl No space to breathe, the puppet strings too tight Worshipping false gods, no energy to fight A life of ‘burn out’, of being hyper alert Of people pleasing so no-one gets hurt Covering dysfunction and hidden shame A disembodied superwoman seeking family fame Truth’s my freedom, stoicism’s a lie Being ‘indifferent to suffering’ one might as well die I must face my past and open my heart Dare to receive as the first place to start But I cling to old patterns, to familiar masks I’m unsure of a life without endless tasks I’m in rage and mourning for the loss of myself And for the price I paid in losing my health I’m addicted to suffering and achieving the best I need constant reminding that life’s not a test If I’m invaded or threatened, I forget there’s a choice And I abandon myself by losing my voice But something amazing occurs when I’m authentic and real Deep emotions surface, my body can heal The child is heard, is blessed and supported Courageous efforts, no longer are thwarted I’m regaining my spirit with a different set of rules A new family of affiliation and some trusted tools I’m repairing fences, building strong boundaries of my own Re-parenting that child so she can be fully grown My body’s no longer an enemy to be fought In listening to its pain, I’ve learnt what it’s taught Fool’s gold is true because real gold exists Is available to those with the courage to persist I seek others with integrity who search like me Confronting denials in an effort to be free In this safety and honesty, I melt some of the ice Know with certainty, I must expose the word ‘nice’ I thank M.E. for the bridge across my sorrows For a chance to really live for all my tomorrows For the experience of joy and the presence of grace And for connecting to others, face to face Stranded in limbo
Between the worlds We exist again Night after night Returning to You Intermingling as one Surrendered in presence Floating cosmic womb This precarious safety Which on waking Abruptly is gone My precious secret Alone in this Raw empty shell Every morning this Aching heavy heart Sorrow that burns Penetrates my lungs Gasping for air Will you leave Again and again? I can’t bear This endless loss That wreaks havoc Quietly smouldering while Blood drains away Why did you Show me naked What love is Only to tear Me to pieces Left all alone Only with memories Of your touch Blissful umbilical union Never to return Sweet unblemished love In the night Living as two Merged as One Entwined in embrace Delicious safe surrender Mine to hold In the day Dead as one Grasping for you Feeling so lost Bereft and confused Split in half Violent crude separation I was once given the name ‘Golden Chalice of the Rising Phoenix’ yet I feel I have much more holy work before I am worthy of such a sacred name. In honour of my own pre-verbal inner child with her exquisite and raw sensitivity, my promise is that I will speak the unspeakable and be a voice for the voiceless. She has no words, only implicit body memories, this evidence that speaks volumes as the 'body holds the score' (Bessell) …..even if it would not hold up in a patriarchal court of law. No matter. I speak for her now, as I will speak for others who need an enlightened witness to move beyond self hatred, self loathing and self doubt.
I vow to be a witness for souls who need help to see the madness that they have accepted as the norm, this trauma they have literally been marinated in, to help them return ‘home’ to their alienated bodies, to believe and validate what they have endured and survived. I vow to help these brave and resilient souls understand the nature of complex trauma, how they have been affected in order that they can enlarge their ‘window of tolerance’ and find some sense of safety in their own bodies. I want to help these shame bound souls know that they are redeemable, that learning to trust themselves is an essential path to trusting life again. I will hold a lantern and help others where necessary, to question everything, including all the endless projections that belong to others and instead, reclaim their own inner truths and sovereignty. She is a woman of substance, make no mistake. She has depth… real depth. She has had to face crippling shame, terrors, repressed rage, chronic and debilitating illness and PTSD, to be the heroine and saviour she was waiting for. She is highly sensitive and intuitive but she values most, her radical self honesty and rigorous self examination, her dedication to truth. She is a wounded healer, fierce and tender from life’s betrayals but she is also a warrior and way-shower because she knows the alchemy that is possible by dancing with the light and shadow and surrendering to grace.
She has redefined herself on many levels after years of inner work. Her brutal inner critic is now a discerning judge, the scapegoat a whistleblower, who does not tolerate and take on secrets, lies and deceptions. Her adapted child with so many masks is now a powerful and conscious shape-shifter, her wounded child, a compassionate witness and advocate for others. She knows this initiatory journey must always be referenced back to the self and whilst many prefer to ‘spiritually bypass’ and not face the ‘pain body’ of their relative existence, she is willing to do this personal work, to heal her shadow, release trauma and trust these gifts and vibrational shifts, as an important offering to the collective ‘pain body’ and healing on the planet. She has journeyed to the Underworld many times, taking radical responsibility for what she has had to face in these dark night’s of the soul, the trauma in her own life and inter-generationally. This work is not for the fainthearted, there are no certificates or honours to be gained but she feels it as deeply holy work and vitally important we return to honouring the ancestors. She has been strengthened by facing the truth instead of burying her head in the sand, despite the cost at a relative level because she knows the deep healing that takes place in ways that cannot be calibrated or proved. Truth for her is more important, this sacred connection above all. She was once given a name of ‘Golden Chalice of the Rising Phoenix’ because through each alchemic initiation, she re-invented herself when her world was shattered and in ruins, returning with more resilience, immense resources, learned wisdom and many sacred gifts. She knows how to rise time and time again, this alchemic gold that is available to everyone if they commit and say a clear yes. And, she recognises her own habitual co-dependency, the extreme importance of honouring her own inner ‘no’s and those of others, if they cannot take the journey for whatever reason. But with this awareness, she is able to be a guide, to help others to rise again, if they are ready, open and willing, to shine a light and help them become more embodied, to find their core truth, trust their knowing and to listen to their soul’s calling. In this, as an Aries who champions the underdog, she is a strong and discerning advocate for others, for those less fortunate who are wrongly scapegoated, not only because it is in her nature but because she herself never had a witness for what happened. This is her longing, her sacred work and commitment, to hold this lantern and help others as a compassionate witness, in their suffering and struggle. In her melt down and spiritual emergency periods which sometimes went on for years, she was bestowed the gifts of awareness, discernment, wisdom, humility, grace and compassion, to carry this bright torch for others when their flame cannot burn brightly and perhaps more importantly, when there is danger from others close by, (family, friends, culture, doctors and many others), who are unwilling or unable to honour the delicate, spiritual emergence process that is so desperately needed. She will no longer do the work for others as this co-dependent behaviour exhausted her, believing she had to be the saviour, responsible for everyone’s pain. This was inappropriate, not just for her but for those she was endeavouring to save, because the butterfly needs the struggle in order to leave the cocoon or it will die. Smothering and over-helping is sadly just another disguised power game, she knows this from both sides now. She knows from painful experience that It is the number one trespass to think that we can control, change or fix another's process. So if she takes great self care, listening to her body wisdom and setting healthier boundaries, she will simply offer you the authenticity of her life experience, trusting that just this presence is enough. Perfectionism nearly killed her, trying too hard and pushing to self improve, something she still struggles with. So her offering is to simply be herself, warts and all, this mutuality and shared humanity that can be the miracle needed to spark another to trust in themselves and regain their sense of personal power. She is tired of the therapist/client and doctor/patient power games that so often take place, so she is choosing to work in the role of ‘peer support’ instead, to take away any hierarchy and power dynamics that might disempower or cause damage. She is acutely aware of her failings and limitations but it’s time she offers her light instead of focussing only on her shadow. She is enough just as she is. She is willing and ready to step up into her sovereignty and offer herself in this perfectly, imperfect state because that, in Leonard Cohen’s words, is ‘how the light gets in’. This is the space where grace can enter. She is glad to be back in the human race, it was lonely doing everything solo, un-trusting and self righteous. She is for ever grateful to those angels in disguise, who were there, in her desperate need and also to the adversaries and brutal grace that was, whilst not welcome at the time, always the catalyst for her own awakening. We are children of God, vessels into which we awaken
This gift of life that is not easily forsaken As pitiful humans we might want to run and hide From the divinity and temple that is ours inside What makes us think that we can do better? Insanely identified with our narcissistic go-getter As we strive and push in controlling ways Our egos blindly caught in an illusory haze It is in the dark womb that we can bear the pain In Kali’s wisdom that we are reborn again and again Hold me close in my shattering, bathe my wounds with Your love Remind me always of the true path and peace of the dove Strip me bare and take away my clothes Force me to surrender from all that is grandiose Help me to bear the purity of Thy face And to know in return the glory and the grace In black and white mode, we label everything good or bad Have such aversion to anything shameful, angry or sad Adversity melts us in the fire, brings us to our knees Reducing us to children reciting primary abc’s But in this surrender as we kiss Your blessed feet There is wonder and creation, sifting the chaff from the wheat We can begin to open the magic of pandora’s box And speak of the mystery, to dance and de-tox In my brokenness, I cannot manage this journey alone I beg for forgiveness and mercy to bring me fully ‘home’ Can I believe the inherent goodness that upholds all life? Dare to trust in the Dark Mother stripping me naked with a knife? When will I feel safe in my skin, give up the exhaustive fight? Honour my body’s desperate cries as SHE holds me tight? When will I trust in the love that is far beyond redemption And devotedly enter my Temple with wholly/holy intention? When ………..when………..if not now?? Dear Brave Heart
You have never failed me. Regardless of what is happening, you have remained faithful at my side. I can always trust you. As now, listening to the heart beat that demands courageous action, a call to re-unite and stay true to the heart’s calling. I cannot thank you enough. Without you I would have stumbled so many times. But you have always beckoned me forwards. Even when the darkness was so obscure. Even when the wraths of hell forbade me entry. Even when all else seemed impossible, still you called me on, reminded me of my warrior way. Showed me the light and portal home. Thank you dear one. I need your bright light now as I enter the valleys of darkness and trust to the faint light that has always guided me. You have always trusted to the blazing torch that shines brightly and calls us all home to the One Heart . From all quarters of the globe we are remembering. Tenderness is exquisite Potent and gentle Soft and unyielding She doesn’t judge Battered and bruised She doesn’t fix But quietly enables Surrendering your guard Smiling with innocence Of shared humanity This deep resonance Speaking in tongues From the One Un-Broken Heart She softly enters Plays no roles Or power games Requests no glory And demands nothing Sitting in pure Unbounded still presence Without separating judgement Or painful projections Creating deep connection And total safety Melting all barriers Embalming your wounds She holds you Completely and utterly In Mother’s embrace Don’t underestimate ‘HER’ Speaking with compassion This unassuming angel Humbly comes unexpected With no whistles No fancy qualifications Just life experience Surrendered on knees From brutal grace Like grapes trampled Making refined wine And Cocoon Goo Emerging and transformed Into Butterfly Wings Perhaps tenderness is A radiant spark Of the ONE Precious and Nourishing Opening the Heart Kindling dampened flames Beaming renewed hope Igniting new potential This Alchemic Breath Expansive and restorative Returning you back To your heart This inner reunion Subtly and surprisingly Bringing you ‘Home’ I’m ready to die, delicious surrender To rest in the arms of the Beloved In a peace so enveloping Embracing and expansive Nourishing and welcome Such a long hard fight Weary to my bones, broken hearted Long years searching in vain For a treasure that did not exist Outside of my own domain If only I had known this before It seems so futile to see this now Too late to change the outcome Blind patterns set in destiny Waiting to be welcomed home Intense fluttering, butterflies seek their rightful place
Another ‘mourning’ beckons, stares me straight in the face Breathing deeply as shock kicks in on first waking Knowing in death there is bliss, no suffering, no faking Boulders pressing down on a sad, heavy chest Anxiety too strong, never allowing for rest Airways restricted, breath barely passing through I must speak the truth, the mundane and the taboo Is this a dread of waking or the thrill of life itself? The dark combination of meeting in this void? Haunting memories of a loss too painful to mention A body crippled from trauma and life long tension Four breaths in – pause, four breaths out – pause The safety afforded by these habitual doors Don’t stop and contract, shutting down to survive You must remember the breathing, the choice to thrive There’s no easy explanation for a grief this deep No answers, quick fixes, promises you can keep Reality can be stark, relenting and brutal Strategies help sustain but in the end are futile As I stay closely aligned to the salvation of breath There is no denying that it’s HIS – not my death Twin souls and bodies entangled and entwined Life and death, in this tender and precious double bind |
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