Oh, true love You have been there since the start Laughing and playing Imagination wild and free
You anchor me in the now My passion fits purpose Meaning of life is rich And fulfilling
You scare me sometimes Will I do you justice? You will be met. A guarantee (Sometimes I want to flee)
But oh, when we align The magic is divine I am transported into another And free, and fun, and glee!
My friends are all here But not the ones I revere
Universe declares this is the place It has laid down its grace
Of all things disturbing, destabilizing Keep yourself centred, don’t race!
Slow isn’t even okay It’s her show; she says ole
So ride on Dear donkey
This isn’t the time or the place
On that fateful day, I wish I had known. I wish I would have been prepared; that someone would have stopped me in the street and said “It’s better not to go”.
For on that day, I met the man of my dreams. Unsuspecting at first, his beauty was revealed as we sat and chatted about this that or the other.
He had heavenly eyes, loving eyes. Eyes that said he wanted me, too. I didn’t think to check his ring finger. I was enraptured with our connection and the way my body tingled when his hand brushed against mine.
A friends wedding. It was fun. We danced, and laughed, and retreated to the back of the venue and shared a cigarette.
It wasn’t long, before his lips were pressed against mine. It felt like a magnetic unstoppable force that brought us together. I felt powerless against it, and delighted in how deeply I surrendered to his touch.
No one seemed to notice when we returned to the party. Though I noticed him becoming a bit more distant, compared to how free and open our connection was before our encounter.
By the end of the night, I awkwardly asked for his number, not quite sure where the awkwardness was coming from. We exchanged pleasant social media contacts, which was another flag now that I think of it.
A few days had passed, and I had not heard from the man at the wedding. I contacted him, and asked to meet at a cozy bar uptown.
No reply. Seen. No reply.
Flustered, I did some more digging and found out he was-
…Married.
My heart sunk to my knees, and my gut churned both with regret and disgust.
I never would have fallen. I never would have kissed him. I never would have allowed this to happen had I known.
Feeling humiliated, I sent an angry text that could only make things worse. But what could be worse? I had unknowingly committed adultery with someone who was fine with ghosting me.
Well fuck.
Hannah was a lovely girl, walking around in the world with immense talent that she mostly kept to herself. She was waiting. Waiting to be steady, to be ready, to feel the enoughness and confidence it takes to enter into the uncertain territory of sharing her creative endeavours with the world.
We, her spiritual and creative guides, have pondered as to the reasons she has been waiting with her gifts unexpressed. Or expressed but later abandoned for this, that, or another reason. Always another distraction. More resistance than we have seen for a long time.
And time and again, she would try to lean on others. To depend on others. To believe their word and their power as greater than her own.
It wasn’t working.
Time and again, the doors kept closing. Kept slamming in her face. Helpless and defeated, she would be thrust on her own again. Nobody cares, she concluded.
But why don’t I? She wondered…
If nobody cares, than why don’t I. Show up and create, and not care what they think or how it turns out.
This seemed like the best way to live, and so she started out. Or picked up where she had last left her endeavours. With a stubbornness of commitment to do what she could to own her life and create despite all things, in her view, not quite yet in place.
She realized that she was in the perfect place, in the perfect time, to launch out into the world, trusting her talents and passions would bring her the joy and freedom and love she longed for. She used her power to create, and that was enough.
Ella, always one for adventure, had had enough of the city. She thought a retreat somewhere remote would do the trick. So she planned it out, she planned her route. She went so far as to carve her own canoe; being nostalgic and one for nature.
After a month of prep-work, she was ready to embark down the river to a small island off the coast. She checked the maps and could not find a single dwelling on the land. Perfect! She felt her excitement grow with how bold and badass she felt.
That warm spring morning called out to her with promise. She joyfully sprung to the occasion, despite all the planning, she wanted to wait for the perfect timing and weather conditions for her adventure. Today was it. She packed her essentials, and headed for the shore.
The ride was smooth and peaceful. An eagle swooped by. She felt one with nature again; a deep sigh of relief escaped her lungs. She was proud she had made the right decision to escape for a while.
She landed on her chosen island. Not a person or animal in sight. The birds were around, singing their tune and keeping her company as she chose her favourite scenic spot to set up a shelter and build a fire. Once that was complete, exhausted she was, she took her fishing rod to a large flat rock where the surrounding waters were deep.
An hour or so later, she returned having caught her limit of three fish. As she approached her site, she was startled to find that her fire had crept outside the stone boundary and was now burning the forest floor.
She plopped down the fish and grabbed her waterproof bag. Filling it from the river and pouring it around her site to extinguish what she could was taking far too long as the wind had picked up and the trees were dead and dry enough that the fire was getting out of her control.
She panicked and rushed. She tripped over a root and skinned her leg on a sharp branch. Despite the pain and blood, she pressed on with her task. There was no time to travel back, as the sun had already set, and she feared getting lost in the darkness.
The smoke was thick, and she felt guilt for having left the fire unattended. This was her doing. She wanted to make it right.
She worked well into the night, until fatigue set in. She stumbled back to her shelter (thankfully intact), wrapped her face in a scarf, and tried to get some sleep before dawn.
Morning came, she awoke to the feeling of dew on her skin. She got up and started packing.
Once arrived at her landing site, she discovered that her canoe had been partially devoured by the fire, and defeated, she slumped to the ground and cried.
No way home, no one to help. She was stuck.
She returned to her site and started another fire to cook her fish. With regained energy, she came up with another plan. Build a raft, cross the river. Hike the rest of the way. It would take days, but it would get her home.
Hours later, she heard a whirring sound in the distance. She thought she must be hearing things and returned to her building. The sound grew in amplitude. She paused and looked up.
There in the distance, was her answer. A helicopter with CAL Fire written on the side.
She leaped to her feet to be seen by the crew in the helicopter. It hovered over the water, and a woman climbed out with a chainsaw on her shoulder. She waded through the water and approached Ella, who was terrified of the repercussions of having started the fire in the first place, but also relieved to have another human here to help.
Ella was saved from the consequences of her actions, by a radiant woman probie Gabriela, and a kind Fire Chief named Vince, who decided to call the fire’s ignition a re-light from the season before. Ella was relieved, and the crew helped her get back home safely after they all worked together to extinguish the fire. Ella was so grateful for their generosity, it was the least she could do to help them finish the task.
Ella returned home exhausted and exhilarated at the events of her trip. Thus began her inspiration to become a California fire fighter.
When Amelia was a young girl the age of 9, her mother became quite discontent at the sight of her. She was blossoming into her womanhood at such a young age. And her mother was furious.
She yanked at the mirrors hung on the walls of their castle. They were really drilled into the concrete, and so she swore and used all her might until they each came crashing down around her.
Shook by the sound, Amelia ran to her mother.
“Mother, is everything all right?”
“Get away from me” she scowled. “YOU did this.”
“But mother-“
“Don’t talk back to me young lady!”
And with that, Amelia was banished to live in the attic, so her mother could have some peace.
Years later, Amelia fled the castle. She wandered the woods, looking for any light she could find that might bring her to a safe and comforting place for her to be.
What she found was forest, and swamp. Her feet were soaked and so was the bottom of her nightdress. She kept going. Determined to get herself out of that place.
Curiously, she stumbled upon an old mirror they used to have in the foyer of the castle. Amelia hadn’t seen it in years, nor had she seen her self. She approached the moss covered mirror to reveal the reflection of a young woman so beautiful, though a bit on the unkempt side.
“That’s me!” she exclaimed. Her joy was quickly snuffed out as her thoughts became just like her mothers.
You’re teeth are crooked, your hair is a mouse-y colour, you’re fat, ugly, and nobody likes you. The familiar words echoed in her mind.
She slumped over and carried on. Maybe Prince Charming will love me, she prayed.
It came to me In a dream How confused and disappointed They all seemed to be
I came with abundance Of joy and energy Abrupt with disdain Apathy would remain
So I said toodaloo To that odd refrain Sad yet renewed As the person I am today
Now a dream visits me Sharing how I needed to do more Scapegoat continued Even then I don’t believe it
Arise in today So peaceful and at ease I sit in a big comfy chair Final whispers wandered away without care
Open skies beckon in something broader. Freedom is both a value and a necessity A tool to thrive To honour the Self To turn away from the safety Of the familiar Pattern.
The skies are open You’re healthy! Look here!
There is another way A better way One that requires faith And a broader imagination Where dreams can take flight Where one can hear true impulses Instead of the twisted cries Of those who learned to depend on others On their power and control A manipulative ploy Their familiar guide of safety Blinded to the broader picture One they cannot open to Or comprehend Because of the ever-alluring Pattern of dysfunction That keeps toxic systems alive.
So thrive! And hear the beckoning cries of natures wise tears That the suffering has gone on too long And you are free to choose a brighter way
