you freeze, you thaw, you form, you change, you melt, you raise, you fly, you accumulate, you transform, you re-shape, you fall again, you fly, the wind cathes you, sideways, back up, crashing down, swooshed in to a nothingness where all is dark and creation rests, germinates
Through the soils of Earth’s water you wake up again
with the rain- worms and clover
You spend what feels like a lifetime as dreary rain
There she is again, Mother Winter, eternal crystal queen
She picks you up, she condenses you, you crystalize, become crystalline, inviting new light, new life, freeze to settle, release to dance
in to the form, the shape of life you need to take right now,
I have come to love another country, that which was not mine, is truly mine
I have come to lose what I love and love what I lost
You should never go back to what you left, people say
You should always move forwards
Are we not moving all the time though?
Backwards, forwards, upwards, downwards, sideways, diagonally, round and round, in a spiral we are trying to grasp, or not, called life? Is it not just to be lived?
It should not feel like punishment, a heartstring mother of all told me.
Sacred Fierceness, she is.
It does. This feels like punishment.
So leave, my love, leave. Touch down to bounce up.
Healing isn’t always peaceful, he spoke on Instagram, AbleHeart
Live in the goodness of Life, a scribbled note in my stack said.
Stop running, turn around and face it, he said.
You are right where you’re supposed to be, she sang. Aurora
When the goodness of life takes a struggle to see, as the heavy black curtain is choking the heart and the self , running being all you do, all you know, to escape Hearing healing isn’t always peaceful, that freedom begins when you turn around and face it, when you let Source walk you t hrough one step at a time, it feels like it might actually provide some strength
Turn around and face it. You are exactly where you are asked to be. In the pain.
I believe in guidance, in guidance I believe - yet, I do not seem to believe in myself
I grasp and grasp and grasp, fingernails bleeding, splinters wedged underneath them, grasping still at the outside, at confirmation that I am allowed to exist
I believe in guidance, in guidance I believe, yet I cannot seem to see what guidance tells me in this dark world around me, at this time
Darkness is there, so that we can see the Stars, StarBeing.
I understand that, yet why can I not see the stars?
Because you must wrap yourself around them, StarBeing. Allow the darkness to fold to unfold, challenge the wind, embrace the rain.
StarBeing, with every word every breath, present yourself.
StarBeing, I am StarBeing
I am of magic, of crystals, of life, of light, of all the goodness holding this universe together. I am of That StarBeing
Why do we have to emphasize the darkness so much that all we initially see is the mustered force of things you are being shown you have to do in this world to be a bit less dark? - as if evil is inherent.
Why is the pure, bright, emphatic, kind, loving, generous quality which is what gives birth to everything we do create, why is that living power, life force, pushed down so deep ?
Asking the questions allows you to get rid of them, StarBeing.
Finding out why will not make you shine any brighter.
Ask. Understand. Know.
Do not go there! Override! Override the script. Override the filter, override the lie, override any and every thing which is not you, The StarBeing.
Star’s wisdom is wider than anything I have ever Known
In her playfulness lies a gentleness wrapped as a totally crazy devotion to nudging, watching, challenging disobedience
Star’s wisdom says break all the rules that are not of the heart, which do not make you fly
Keep companionship close, too close for comfort, unless it is neediness disguised as companionship - from your side too, my dear from your side too
Star’s wisdom says look in the mirror, just don’t drown in it.
Do it differently tomorrow Because tomorrow is different
Go back to school, walk backwards, sing a song, write a new story, a new life, a new way of living, being, loving and moving in and out of the world, anything
Her whiskers touch my hand. She eats gently out of the palm of my hand. Young one. Brave one. Gentle and so powerful.
Looking back , I see how I had no understanding in that younger mind of mine of how this four footer could have chosen me, could have loved me so dearly from day one. To me it had seemed so clear back then that I had just taken too much hay on my fork – as usual – by inviting this little ball of fierce energy in to my life and now I had to deal with it.
Being here with her now I wonder if it is not she who took too much hay on her fork by coming in to my life.
My Angel.
The drums of nature are calling. My angel is speaking. She speaks through the curiousness of her eyes. Through eternal listening. Through her constant invitation of pure awareness and boundless peace.
I am still learning her language. Or unlearning the old language, as she calls it.
Her language is in her ways.
“Learn my ways and you will learn new things”. The first sentence she ever spoke to me.
The light is bright. The candle flickers higher than what should be possible. Its spark illuminates the night.
“That little light, that little spark, hold on to that”, she motions with her paw.
“Watch it grow, watch it flicker, watch it sparkle, let it take over, let it burn down all that which is overgrown and overbearing, carry it with you in the night, hold it in your heart, see it in your mind, know that the only focus you need is that light, that one light, that one flickering luminous flame.”
“The flame that so many are afraid of shall be hidden no more. It is burning and it will only burn stronger and stronger the coming years, decades and centuries.”
“ Those who hide their flames will be choked by their own smoke. Literally. It is already happening. Dim your light and you feel the inner claustrophobia creeping in. Shut the door of your soul and you fall ill. Soul ill. You feel betrayed. Trapped. You look outside for the reasons. You trace your days, years, decades, centuries back for explanations. You want to understand.”
“There is nothing to be understood. There is a hatch to be opened. A door to be blown wide open by a storm so fierce that the magma of Vattnajökull diminishes in comparison. All you are to do is to hand over the key. Hand it back to the soul. Be bold! You cannot hold back what is meant to be. What already is. Open! Stand! Be bold!”
FlowerOfTheThunderAndLightning 