For Owen

He was different for me

As he was different for you.

Commonalities far beyond

Shared blood; a shared ancestry

Stretching way back.

It’s looking forward that smacks me in the face,

No longer able to trace

His breath in the distance.

Knowing and feeling merge into one.

A gripping pain

That hurts.

A cobweb of empathy

Intertwines continents

As does a sense of uselessness.

What’s done is done,

The end of a run

Of a man.

Not understanding,

Not withstanding 

The illogical logic,

That must have blinded him.

His head swallowing his heart whole,

Taking him away.

“There is no means of testing which decision is better…”

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“There is no means of testing which decision is better, because there is no basis for comparison. We live everything as it comes, without warning, like an actor going on cold. And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself? That is why life is always like a sketch. No, “sketch” is not quite a word, because a sketch is an outline of something, the groundwork for a picture, whereas the sketch that is our life is a sketch for nothing, an outline with no picture.” Milan Kundera (The Unbearable Lightness of Being)

It’s the same old, same old… If another does not know their own mind, their own heart, how can they be ready to embark on anything? I am the same, feeling my way along and through this mortal coil, trying to remain aligned and present and make sense of the uncertainty, that is the human condition. There is no judgement here, not from me anyway. We all seek the same Holy Grail; the mystical marriage of self and from there, a love affair with another. A joining of two hearts and an adventure of discovery, an opportunity to speak our truth and be loved and respected for it.

Is Love therefore the answer to every question? I suspect it underlies everything we seek, both externally and internally of ourselves. It is both the foundations and building blocks of life. It evades us often, especially when we fail to recognize it in ourselves; unable to trust in it fully and feel totally safe just being ‘me’.

I continually try to understand why I am where I am. Why I have met the people I have met, what lessons there are to learn from these encounters and physical interactions.

I’ll put my hands up at this point. Yes, I do tend to rush forward, racing towards an unknown future. Am I any different from you? Everyone, in some way or another, is trying to be true to themselves and that of course can lead to disappointment. It is indeed always disappointing not hearing what you would like to hear; when you catch a glimpse of another like minded soul, only to be pushed away. Don’t I know all too well, that at times what you want and what you need are in opposition and the bugger of that is, you know that is how it sometimes has to be. There is gold to be found in those moments, along with frustration and at times tears. But why am I running scared? Scared to feel emotions, scared not to feel emotions…. Scared of feeling too much, scared of not feeling enough… Scared of getting it totally wrong…

Fear can rule mercilessly. It can bury us in indecision and feelings of inadequacy. It can strip you of your knowing and push you down a path of blinkered illusion. I know this is true. Fear has led me down many dead-end roads. Fear is my unwanted guest, arriving uninvited, with an air of self-importance.

So how can I move past this? How can I remove myself from its scrutiny? I know I am impatient to move past my fears. Impatient to get on with my life unabated by my own misguided limiting beliefs of not being enough. Not being ambitious enough, not being aligned with my life purpose… The ‘not being’ lists are like Kryptonite to my soul.  They strip away my intuition and kill my uniqueness.

Something has shifted in me though. I no longer wish to carry around my own dead weight. I want to shine. I want to dust off my ambition and step forward with a sense of my own worthiness. I want to stop procrastinating and start holding myself accountable to the life I want to be living. This life does not depend on anyone else. It rests solely on my own shoulders. It is my gift to myself. I would be doing myself a great disservice to not hold up my own mirror and honour myself and my gifts.

I want, I want, I want…

What I need however, is to be honest with myself, to believe I am worthy and to keep moving forward.

Slow it down…

Time to stop trying to outrun my heart and my soul. This song has held, guided and taught me a great deal over the past two years. I had previously believed it held true for another, however I now see and know it for representing my own truth and my own misguided belief that I had to be more than I am. I am, as I always have been, exactly who and where I am meant to be. No other song gets my heart and soul spinning like this one. Love and Light to all who aspire to become their own heroes. X

Back to Black by Amy Winehouse

He left no time to regret, kept his dick wet
With his same old safe bet
Me, and my head high, and my tears dry
Get on without my guy

You, went back to what you knew, so far removed
From all that we went through
And I, tread, a troubled track, my odds are stacked
I’ll go back to black

We only said goodbye with words
I died a hundred times
You go back to her
And I go back to, I go back to, us

I love you much, it’s not enough
You love blow and I love puff
And life, is like a pipe
And I’m a tiny penny rolling up the walls, inside

We only said goodbye with words
I died a hundred times
You go back to her
When I go back to

We only said goodbye with words
I died a hundred times
You go back to her
And I go back to

Black, black, black, black
Black, black, black
I go back to
I go back to

We only said goodbye with words
I died a hundred times
You go back to her
And I go back to

We only said goodbye with words
I died a hundred times
You go back to her
And I go back to black

Undersold

Promises were made

in the darkness of shadows.

A reality filling the spaces

between whispered intent.

Oxygen breathing

life into the fiery belly

of a fictional world

where truth is misspent.

Love undersold

in a heartless transaction.

It’s previous owner

removed all the tags.

No longer shiny

it bares the hallmarks of lonely.

Its beauty hidden

beneath a soiled layer of rags.

Misplaced Belonging

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Your name now a stranger,

in person and in ink.

My heart held a safe distance,

from the torturous brink,

of a misplaced belonging

that carried no weight,

the emotive sad rivers,

continue to abate

yet courage is magnified;

my soul stands to applaud.

I am gently nudged forward,

newly born, self-assured.

Within the safety of worth,

the lies start to diminish.

Another chapter unwritten,

of a story with no finish…