Breath

My breath my own again
I welcome the reflex of inhaling/exhaling.
I close my eyes and resistance evaporates and I am moving
on a flow of breath.
I notice the yearning in the stillness between
inhaling and exhaling,
the desire for more.
I let the yearning be there.
Then I embrace inhaling
FULLNESS
Exhaling
EMPTINESS
…yearning…
Each breath a complete lifetime
Each breath renewal
I am new with every breath.
I leave behind ideas of specialness and calling.
I let go of dreams.
I embrace this very moment.
Yearning.

Shhh.

Stop what you are doing.
Empty your mind.
Stay silent.
Pay attention.
LISTEN to my words, follow my voice.

Picture this face:
Dead eye’s masking sorrow.
In a second flash with rage.
Then gone. Out. Like a light.
Dead eye’s again.
Dry lips, chapped and flaking.
Sucking in air as if to scream
but open only to
… suck in more air.
Teeth chipped from clenching,
yellowed from too much coffee,
too many cigarettes,
too much of whatever will dull the pain.
Brittle hair surrounds this face,
tangled with bits of grass and tree,
matted with mud long dried to clay.

Picture that face.
Forged with lines that track the passing of pain.
Eye’s, red rimmed and wild.
Lips, chapped and bleeding.
Teeth, jagged shards of decay.
All framed with barbed wire hair.

There are places where a woman travels
far from hearth and home
there are voices that whisper in her ear
that turn her heart to stone.

I have been that face.
Have you?

Have you known the darkness?
Has Goddess wrenched you from your bed,
grasped you with her cold veined hand
jerked you from the pretty stones,
the soft silk altar cloths and the sparkling scented candles?

Shoved you past these trappings to the door of the cave?
On the darkest night of the year?

Has she laid her ebony velvet cloth over your face,
opened the great yawning hole and pushed you inside?
Left you to your own devices to find your way out?

With nothing to light your way,
but faith?
Sometimes even faith is as dark as pitch.

If you know that cave, have felt that damp emptiness
If you have tasted sweet acid on your tongue
and gagged on heavy sulpher with every breath
than you know that Goddess ain’t always pretty.

Neither are you, neither am I.

Ugly doesn’t even begin to describe
what it is like,
crawling through that cave,
knees scratched to bone,
Sobbing through your mantra’s of “fuck you’s” and
“I don’t deserve this”.
Bellowing, bargaining, begging, bawling.

And it all falls on deaf ears.
It all falls on walls of stone, slick with ice
and thick as forever.

Sister, if She moves you,
passed bewilderment, denial and broken dreams,
to that cave
you better be prepared.

‘Cause there are places where a woman travels
Journeys she makes alone
To meet Goddess in that darkest place
only the frail stay at home.

Samhain - October 31

Mother Goddess descends her throne
gives reign over to the Crone.
Death sweeps across the earth
making way for rebirth.

Cerridwen I beseech you
grant passage to your hall
the dead spirits I sustain
grant passage to them all...

All within the good earth sleeps
and gentle Mother does retreat
to her chamber in the mound
to rest with the Maiden soft and sound.

Queen of Spirits I do seek
a pathway to your Cauldron
I beckon thee Hag to guide me
as I honour the Darkest One...

The veils between the worlds are thin.
Hearken to the whispering din
of honored Ancestors and the Sidhe,
who bless us with their memory.

Ancient women of my folk
the way is clear to my door.
Enter and impart to me
your wisdom, I implore...

Let the year pass this night
and with the morrow's dawning light
may spirit's both alive and dead
walk in peace in the year ahead.

Pray

I pray a lot – for others, for myself
I stand at my doorway and open my heart.
The air in my voice shakes the leaves on the trees
and my eyes shed the water of the ocean and seas.
Light the fire in my belly, I pray aloud.
Light the fire in my heart so I can heal and love.
Let my skin be renewed by the cool breeze of heaven,
Let my bones be made strong by the power of earth.

The Secret

The meaning that life holds is found
in the small moments.
Found in kindness and mercy and grace.
Found in prayer and in giving.
There is no one meaning greater than the other.
All lives are needed, all paths a sacred journey,
all dreams the soft voice of Spirit.
When I come to know this
as I know my own skin,
then I have truly found the secret.
Once found it can never be forgotten,
once heard it lives in the soul like a song.
We are one.
No matter what separates us;
distance, experience, beliefs, behaviours…
I love you, I need you,
we are one.

Sanctuary

There is a sanctuary deep within…
a place of compassion, wisdom and peace.
All we need to live a life of fulfillment
rests within this sanctuary.
Often we seek outside of ourselves,
looking for meaning that we believe
will give us worth,
when all we need do is return to this place,
this Source of wholeness and divinity.
Connecting to our inner source we manifest the life we desire;
through compassion and love we come to know our true Self.
On this journey we discover that
Divine Source is within us;
deeply nestled in our inner sanctuary,
waiting for us to come home.

Less then Certain

I recently read the following statement from a positive thought/spiritual writer (bolding is mine):

“Knowing exactly what you want to do, with unwavering conviction, is the spark that generates everything.”

Why does this statement – even as I recognize there is truth in it – annoy me so much?

It is because there is something about this belief system that smacks of privilege. Something about it that feels inclusive to those who grow up with parents that believe in them, who are encouraged to follow their dreams and ideals, who are educated, indulged, nurtured.

What of those whose minds are not so sweetly and gently held in the hands of those that mold them? What of those whose minds are not so clear – whose purpose does not resonate by standing squarely in the centre of their third eye but instead dances in and out of focus?

What of those who are depressed, mentally ill, beaten down? What can they generate?

My father died very suddenly when I was 10 years old. One day he was there; healthy and whole, and the next gone forever. My world as I knew it, dissolved into chaos and impermanence. Nothing around me was real, nothing lasted, and nothing mattered. My father was 34 when he died; so young, so much unlived life. As I grew I was hyper aware that life can be taken in an instant. And so I wanted everything and nothing all at once – just in case. There was no clarity, no knowing, and no conviction.

Fear that people would leave me kept me from being authentic – which made people leave.

Fear I would die young kept me from saving for retirement and squandering my earnings instead.

Fear I would never realize my true purpose kept me from getting really good at one thing. Instead I jumped from one purpose to the next, one partner to the next, one way of living to the next, never committing.

Fear of death forced me to embrace it, make it my friend, welcome it. Living as if you are dying kills joy, kills love, kills life.

Yet despite all of this I moved – inched insufferably slowly - toward healing, toward God, toward sharing my gifts with the world; all the time questioning and doubting my abilities and direction, often succumbing to the voices of criticism and fear to the point of debilitating depression.

Yet still I found my way. In the midst of fear and confusion I saved my life (am saving my life) and in doing so am helping others to save themselves.

“Everything” came not out of “unwavering conviction” and “exact” knowing, but out of doing. Just doing. Purpose can arise from the less then clear mind; all that is required is - despite being filled with doubt - doing the thing anyway.