Finding New Ways…

I had to get a new number plate fitted on my car today. The previous one had disappeared without me noticing, likely taken by a slightly feisty river I drove through. I took the car to the shop and the guy very carefully went to screw the new plate on and it promptly fell straight off. When we looked, we saw the holes had been warped and would no longer accept the same kind of connection and so he had to adhere it rather than use screws. And it got me thinking about connection and underlying structure.

See, we often assume the old ways we have used are going to work. We don’t even consider that they are not going to. They worked before, why wouldn’t they work now? What we forget is if we are on a path of growth and exploration, sometimes there have been changes deeper down, and so when we go and try the old ways, they don’t work anymore, because the underlying structure has changed and it won’t accept the old way. And maybe we keep trying anyway, getting angry that it won’t work anymore, frustrated, sad… We judge ourselves and we hate on ourselves and we don’t understand and we forget to look deeper, preoccupied with the not-working and not wanting to look deeper at the why, at the possible lesson, at the opportunity to try new ways. And yet there is no fault here, it’s just that things have happened, life has occurred and so we have to find new ways. It’s not my cars fault I have driven it hard for years and warped the plastic, I don’t judge it for that. I thank it for keeping me safe for so long, allowing me to get place to place, enduring ford crossings and endless bumpy back lanes and motorways and the rush and bustle and unpredictability of the roads. And so why, when it comes to ourselves, do we not always extend the same generosity?

Life shapes us, it changes us, it warps and moulds and affects our very structure. Science is continually proving this… DNA can be changed… Fascia can be released… We are constantly being reformed over and over and over. And so sometimes, when we try to apply the old ways we used to use, they don’t work anymore, and then we have a choice. Either we get mad and try to force it and make it happen, and then get even angrier when it falls apart in front of us, or we find a new way, a different way, not better or worse, just different. We accept that we are fluid beings and our structure changes and life forms and reforms us over and over. We find new ways to connect. We meet ourselves where and how we are at. And then we carry on. And it’s ok.

My car still drives. It will still take me places. It has a shiny new number plate held on by super sticky adhesive patches. There was a different way to connect and for it to be. Not better or worse, just different.

And so it is with us, new ways become necessary, not better or worse, just different. We adjust. We flow. We change. We carry on. We go to new places and have new experiences and we remember the old because maybe we bear the scars and the reminders. The warped holes beneath my new number plate will always be there, but it’s just a reminder that we used to do it differently, and now we are doing it differently again.

If we move WITH our circumstances, WITH our lives, WITH our structure and our deeper changes, if we meet ourselves how we are now, not how we used to be, then we adapt, we embrace the new, and maybe the new is better, maybe we don’t like it so much, but there is a peace to be found in the acceptance. And so life continues. Cars break, things get warped, we keep on exploring anyway….

Laughing Horses (written 2013-2014ish)

I find people hard.

Especially lots of them. In one place.

There is an expectation that we should all be good at that.

Me.. I am not good at that.

I get awkward and overwhelmed and embarrassed and forget how to speak and I sound defensive (or worse aggressive) even when asked supposedly simple things like my name and I…

I find people hard.

I was at a place earlier where the expectation was that I should laugh a lot. At first I did laugh, because there were funny things happening and people trying to make me laugh, and so I laughed.

Because it was funny.

But then it somehow got harder to laugh.. Not because it got less funny, but because it felt less genuine.

I was laughing because someone was trying really hard to make me do so and even though they couldn’t see me, I didn’t want to disappoint them and somehow it became harder.

It did not quite feel right.

And then.. Well then I became aware that everyone around me was still laughing in all the places they were meant to, and that they did not seem to think this was weird, and they didn’t seem to have kind of lost the reality of it. They still seemed to be having fun.

Me.. I found I laughed less and less.

Because it felt forced. It felt expected. And sometimes I did laugh because it was really funny and that was genuine. But other times I laughed with nothing behind it.. Just because I knew I was meant to laugh at that point in time.

I could feel my heart sinking because once again, I began to feel different and weird and out of place, and then I just wanted to leave. I wanted to run back to my solitude and the wind and the sky and the spaces between, and not be in a place where hundreds of people were all laughing and I was not, but felt I should be, because that’s what you do right?

And there was a horse in the road tonight.

There were all these people and flashing lights and cars and the people were all around it waving their arms frantically like maybe the horse spoke semaphore and I am pretty sure they were between it and the field it had wandered out of to get that extra sweet looking piece of grass, and maybe the grass isn’t always greener on the other side because on the other side were all these strange people forcing it further away from what it knew and from home.

And I think I know how the horse felt.

Because people do that.

They don’t mean to. They think they are helping.

Except what they do is they get between us and ourselves, between us and what we know, between us and Home.

And they do this because they are scared.

We are not in the field, or box we are meant to be in, and so they must fix this and put us back in it because this is so terrifying to them that all they know how to do is try to put it back to how it was before it became something it wasn’t, because if it doesn’t stay how it’s supposed to, well then..

Then suddenly all the fences become a little more meaningless, and those gaps between the railings and the space above and below is suddenly seen for what it is: bigger than the fence.

And the lines they have believed they have to live within start to fade and then there is a period of confusion because the horses are not meant to be in roads, roads are for cars.. Except no one told the horse that so it just sees a hard bit of ground with some really nice grass growing next to it.. Though in reality the grass probably isn’t all that nice right beside a road because it would be full of car type stuff and all that litter we thoughtlessly throw out of the window because someone else will pick it up right? Or because we are too arrogant to take it home to a bin believing we are bigger than nature.

We are not bigger than nature.

We are like those tiny little bars of fence within all that space above, below, around and through. Except at least the fence is just a fence..


We fence others in, and at the same time fence ourselves in as well.

We climb into our boxes and tell ourselves we have to laugh at the people who are trying to make us laugh, desperately trying to tell the same jokes like they mean it night after night. And when we don’t feel able to do that, we make ourselves wrong and become like the horse in the road, lost and confused and not knowing why people are looking at us funny and waving their arms like there is something intrinsically wrong with us when really there isn’t: we just wandered into somewhere where there was an expectation that we did not seem able to meet.

You laugh at comedy shows.

Roads are not for horses.

And I got out of the show as fast as I could, and I walked into the middle of the road, not at the designated crossing for humans, and I smiled because I could breathe again.

Because you see I know the secret..

Which is that the lines are not real.

The fences are an illusion.

You are trapped by nothing more than a trick of the light…

And if you just tilt your head slightly, you will see that maybe you don’t have to laugh at comedy shows unless you feel it, and that maybe, to a horse, a road is just another part of its field…

Because the horse knows the field is everywhere…

Musings of the Evening…

I went walking today somewhere I have been walking for over 30 years, and yet today, I discovered a whole new world of pathways and land I had never even seen before. It took a little courage to follow these seemingly new paths, not quite knowing where they’d go, but I also trusted I knew the land well enough to find my way home if need be.
The new paths led me through the most beautiful woods, filled with nothing but resounding silence and birds; no human noise at all. Then I came out onto hills and fields dappled with the light of the magic hour, and I smiled in pure wowness at how a place I know so well could hold so much I never knew was here.
And it got me thinking about my body, about my mind, about my neural pathways… Do I just walk the same ones over and over, not even thinking to look for anywhere new?
And I sat with this for a while and allowed myself to zoom out, borrowing eagle’s view for a few moments and I saw my mind and all its well lit, well commuted pathways, and from my vantage point I saw signposts I’d never seen, leading to darker, quieter, less busy places – spaces the human noise hasn’t touched.
One said “self-belief.” It looked like I’d maybe had a bit of an explore down there once, but it was overgrown and the entrance was blocked by something.
I went down to investigate and saw it was not blocked at all; it was just the path was obscured to my sight by a signpost saying “But do you really believe…?” And I realised I’d nearly always stopped there, choosing to turn back to my well trodden paths in the familiar woods of my mind, rather than daring to say YES and stepping forward.
And I zoomed back out and saw this pattern repeated over and over… These little questions blocking me from exploring and embracing my full self. I wondered who had written the questions?
It was my mind, so surely it must have been me.
What was I trying to protect myself from? Or hide myself away from?
And I thought about this as I kept walking.
And I realised I was scared of getting lost.
Scared that if I stepped out into the unknown, I’d never find my way back.
But as I looked out at the fields, and in at my vast mind, I saw ALL paths lead Home.
And I smiled, and I kept on walking, embracing the mystery within and without…

Rightly wrong or wrongly right…

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

Dear Mother Earth,

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

In- Complete…

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

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

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

I, Am Not…

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


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

Night Sea Journey…

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