within you, within me
in our cells, in the atmosphere
reacts and interacts to paint
rainbows and spark lightning
flowing red in our veins and clear down rocky slopes
rising up invisibly into our skies
in cottony cloud collections
shifting resources from lakes to land
tumbling in drops towards earth
onto leaves and soil
and skin and fur
Dammed and bottled
but never contained
everywhere and in
a three dimensional manifestation
of the flowing
energy of Love
*Shared with dVerse prompt on Water.
***Image from kyhealthkids
Long ago we made a promise
to meet under the blue skies
beside the acacia grove.
You asked me to search my heart for justice
when fear clasped its chains around my feet.
And as I turned and stumbled away
you promised me unconditional love.
You knew in time I’d learn to trust my feelings
in the season when cool winds scatter dust around.
Apart from you, I found myself.
Who I really am.
Though there’s nothing in life to be certain of
I looked inside and found the answers
amidst the memories.
That love is truth and truth is justice.
And in my heart I found all three.
**Shared with dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night #239**
*Image from twinflames1111.com
Dust off those dreams and ideals spiked long ago
When your caged heart was free and lived with gusto.
With the Pen in your grasp
Switch genres, change the title and unclasp
the yoke around your neck.
Write one word, then never look back.
In my google search, it turns out a quadrille is also a dance.
I was not familiar with the use of the verb ‘spike’ as in rejecting something. Usually used in publishing where a manuscript is considered and then rejected and put on the spike. So I thought I’d use it in my attempt at a quadrille.
This was nothing short of a mental crossfit workout… Hope you enjoy it.
Written for dVerse.
I hit rock bottom a few years ago. Depression. Growing self hate. And eventually resentment towards others. Completely lost. I didn’t know who I was. I’d like to say that I turned it around, made myself proud. But I continued to fall and scrape my face on new lower levels of rock bottom. Like some sort of horrific video game of inverted qualifying levels. Each wrong choice qualifying me for a lower level of even greater despair. It is a bottomless black pit.
I was an amazing person. And then one day she was gone. And there was only a shell. Ironically, my compassion, supernatural empathy and resilience was what led me to this dark place. These should have been the very qualities to lead me to my personal success.
What happened? I was missing one key quality. Self-love. Self-compassion. That inner guidance system was completely muted because I listened to all kinds of guidance outside of myself, including but not limited to religion, family and society.
Yet life is great and God is greater. Even on the wrong path you find reflections of the path you should have taken. IT calls to you. People come into your life to nudge you towards that inner light, to remind you of who you really are.
An editor reached out to me a couple of years ago, across miles of Atlantic Ocean, to write a piece on Muslims in Botswana. This was a time when I was starting my fiction-writing journey and I submitted a short story to her anthology. She very kindly asked me why I submitted fiction when she specifically asked for a true-to-life non-fiction piece. She could have just left it at that and gone her own way. Instead, she encouraged me to find my true voice by telling me the old adage, the truth will set you free.
I was so afraid of opening up, that I had tremendous anxiety while I wrote it. I had to dig deep, confront inner demons and obstacles that told me not to do it. Fears that told me I shouldn’t stick my neck out like that. Yet, everyone knows that to be a writer, I need to be able to express myself. And if I want to connect with others through my writing, I need to do that in an authentic way. Years of being told to be quiet, to not rock the boat, to not express myself was being undone. My desire to be more than I was, was greater than my fears.
I knew then, that it didn’t matter whether it got published or not. It was clear that it came my way to help me find my voice. To connect to who I really was at a time when I was lost. Adrift in a choppy sea of life trying to keep my head above others’ expectations of me and rules for my life, with no rescue in sight.
Was it a coincidence? No. In hindsight, I see that I had begun to express a desire deep within me to live a happier life. It may have been mere whispers. Perhaps at a sound frequency beyond human hearing. It was a true desire and the universe responded. Finding my voice opened a window that let some light into my dark pit. I could look out this window and see a different path where wildflowers grew. Scattered. Bushy. Unrestrained. God-forbiddingly wild. And oh so colourful and bright.
Again, it wasn’t a straight line learning curve. I didn’t leap out of the window into my future. As a self-proclaimed visionary, I could no longer picture any type of future for myself. I spent many more months that stretched into years, gazing at possibilities. Sometimes inspired by it, other times trembling in absolute fear of it.
There were many other people since then whether they know it or not, some I was fortunate enough to know in person and some who I’ve only seen on YouTube videos, that helped me to find my way. Please, all you wonderful people don’t stop inspiring others. You never know whose life you are saving with a kind word to a friend, a motivational video or blog post.
I recently found my scrap-book from when I was 17 years old. I posted some artwork from it last year here. That young woman had big dreams. Massive. She wanted to make a difference to the world. She wanted to teach people how to fish, not give them fish for a day. She was all about empowering others. Even in her darkest times, what gave her joy was seeing others succeed at what makes them happy. (Perhaps because she wanted that so much for herself too.)
She so much wanted to contribute to the world she forgot to save herself. Piece by piece she gave away herself away. She gave others the gift of complete acceptance but would never accept herself. She would speak up for others but would never express how she truly felt and what she truly wanted. Society makes us think that this is a good thing, but I’ve since learned that the very people who want you to give up who you are in order to be who they want you to be, would never do the same for you. What’s more, they would not help you when you fall into that black hole of despair and desperation having lost yourself completely. And further, they had no right to expect me to be anyone else but me.
I have begun making changes. Deep, soulful changes that require absolute courage and resilience. But I know I have those things, I’ve seen them in action for others. I just need to use it for myself for a change.
Will I ever be free of those dark emotions, and dark pits? They have dragged me down so many times before it is hard to believe I will ever be completely free of it. So I’ve accepted them as part of my life. I’ll go even further to say that I am grateful for those dark emotions and shadows that linger on the edge of my consciousness, as they are guideposts to tell me that I have made a wrong choice somewhere. That I thought something or chose something that was not true to me.
In my journey to self-love and self-compassion so far, I have learned what it means to change the world by starting with yourself. I have learned that you can do anything, but not everything. In fact, it was exactly this mindset of ‘I can do anything’ that led me to do things I didn’t want to do, and keep on doing them longer than I should have because I was actually good at it. I’ve learned that my compassion is not complete without compassion for myself.
It is easy to regret the past fifteen years of my life, lost to bad choices. However, I consider myself an artist. Of sorts. I love how art reflects life. In art, there is a concept of negative space. In simple terms, negative space refers to the space around and between objects that allows it to stand out clearly. Images like the one above are commonly used in fun psychological tests. Depending which negative space you see first, determines which object stands out for you. (Did you see Katniss from Hunger Games with the bow and arrow first, or did you see the larger image of the profile of her face?)
If I zoom out and look at my life as one massive artwork, of light and dark spaces, I can see that I have been exactly where I was supposed to be.
All those wrong choices, mistakes and lessons learned, they were dark for a good reason. They were the negative space around the object of my life’s artwork. While I was there, I was figuring out what I don’t want. Who I don’t want to be. And painted it black. (or white – depending on which colour you choose as your negative space) And so I was shaping and creating my life.
It is the same space and thought, which Rumi, Buddha, Kahlil Gibran and many others referred to when they spoke on the topic of pain and sadness. You cannot know happiness without knowing sadness. It takes knowledge of one, to know the other. Or in terms of negative space, it provides the contrast for you to know what happiness is not. And more specifically in my case, who I am not.
Found my old teen scrapbook, in which I wrote prose and drew pictures, as a pastime. This is seventeen years old! Wrote that at a time when ironically, I had given up on love. (Sad at such a young age). One could dream anyway, right? The poem in the middle reads:
“When the warming arms of the
Misty morning sun
Gently stretch into the
I’ll wake up to you.“
Man, I was a sucker for romance. But life changes that along the way.
Along with my scrapbook, were my sketchbooks. From at least thirteen years ago. I used to draw female forms a lot. Faces. Hands. Then tried male forms, one of which was sketching Enrique from a cd cover. Back when I used to be a fan of his. Another thing that changed along the way to the present moment. Not so much a fan anymore.
There’s even an attempt at charcoal, long since abandoned.
I haven’t drawn in years. SO I really enjoyed finding these again. What makes it even more poignant, is that lately I’ve been feeling lost. And these took me right back to a place I thought I had long forgotten.
Do you still have your childhood or teen scrapbooks, sketchbooks, stories?
When you’ve been digging yourself
Into a hole
For all your living years
When the time comes
To get out,
The hole was deep and far below
To climb back out
First comes darkness
Then the light
PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz
His question caught her off-guard. The room spun around her and she gripped the edges of the lectern to steady herself.
“Ms Silver, how would you explain the Hannah May incident?”
It was no secret that she had been Hannah’s life coach. A fact that tormented her. Buried guilt rose from past failures. Oversights.
It was she who had encouraged her to push past her fears, return to her love of sailing. She died in the storm of 2004. Neither sailboat nor her body was ever found.
Ms Silver found her voice, “Hannah May was brave enough to follow her dreams.”
Life coaches are amazingly positive people. And I’m sure they have their demons too. Ones they wrestle with and from which they find their own growth. Whatever the situation, it’s important to face fears that keep you from your dreams or the change you want to make in your life.
Have a happy Wednesday!
I put my heart into a bottle
stuffed it away. Out of me. Out of sight.
I’d grown weary of it’s whispers
nagging me through my busy hours.
It was getting harder to focus on all I needed to,
on who I needed to be
with it’s tales of dreams and hopes long forgotten,
long abandoned at the fork in the road
way back when such things were still possible.
No, it can’t be. Can’t ever be. Wont be. Not for me.
Silly stories, silly heart
Time to grow up.
At the edge of the cliff I threw the bottle into the ocean
Watched as the tides carried it away
over the horizon.
That night as I slept, the whispers came louder still
Woke up in a cold sweat feeling the hole in my chest
Empty and void.
Yet tales of better tomorrows, hopes renewed
swirled all around me.
See I had not realised that I could abandon my heart
But my heart would never abandon me.
I was born with you, the day of your birth,
in your awakening
Out of those moments of joy bursting with light.
I stood by you, through years of your longing,
in your flagellation
Through those moments of pain echoing with the truth.
We have always been one, though you split us in two
Denied me, seeking fulfilment from others besides me.
Embarrassed, you walked away
I saw you look back eyes dark with regret.
You had no sense to know you could never forget.
Once in your mid-life, I sent you flowers, a fragrant bouquet
Hoping to remind you of what we had, and all the missed hours.
You read the note, threw it in the bin
Hid in the bedroom and found you could not hide from what was within.
That night, in the yellow of the porch light, you looked up at the stars
wondering, always wondering.
And here we are, together still at the end of your life.
Yes I’m still here, beside you, within you
And I bloom in your chest, with a lot of regret.
You tell me you’re sorry, you don’t know what happened
I say nothing, just let you speak, hear your voice cracking.
The pain in your voice is much for me to bear.
I know I tried to tell you over the years
that for you to truly live, both of us need to have life.
But I will die with you, the world never knowing who I am
More tragic than this, is the self you hid from the world.
All I could do was show myself to you
Hoping you would find your courage.
Something you could never do.
Oh the life we could have lived!
The possibilities we could have explored!
It is harder for me still, to question my own existence
The dream that never could and never will,
be more than a thought in your head
A fledgling hope that never took flight.
Why was I here? It makes no sense.
Then I look in your eyes,
moments before the light in them goes out,
and I see the same questions stirring about.
Inspired by an article I read on the regrets of the dying. Unfulfilled dreams were one of the biggest regrets.
There is something about unfulfilled dreams, hopes and desires that cause us so much pain. Most of it seems to go against logic and reason and it takes courage to follow them.
Undeniably, dreams are a part of who we are. To fulfil them is to fulfil ourselves. To give them life, is to give us a life that feels authentic, and has a buzz to it that makes us feel very much alive.
Need a better title. It is a WIP. Suggestions welcome!
Here’s to your dreams 🙂