Everyday is a pilgrimage
Every moment is a different space of Belonging
Standing in your world is changing
Over time Love is felt and Love is missing
Within the Heart it remains
To be Held
Beyond this lifetime it is a knowing, a beholding
Pull your feet into the space
Of where you are Now
She speaks Channeled by Janice Turner Salmon
I thank you all for a spirited year of connection, joy, laughter, grief, tears and sounding our voices in release and keening.
I pray for love, more connection to you all in joy and heart blooming inspiration.
I pray that next year I will be gatherings with you, to sing, voice, touch your hand in mine as your spirit has touched my heart this year.
I thank the Grandmothers and the Grandfathers, our ancestors, the ancient ones the wise and the well for pulling us together. I thank the great mysteries of the those that guide me, my angel guardians, my spirit guides for bringing me into circle and session with beautiful souls and those that have pure hearts. I thank the greatness for new friendships, for long held loving relationships, for family and community that have held us as we have experienced challenges and expressed our emotions in safe communion.
I am grateful for All this and so much more. I am grateful to the All and the Only, to the consciousness of oneness and my grateful heart sends out so much love to yours for now in this present moment, I am Truly Blessed.
There is time for everything and everything has its time…..
Into this place I send my soul song streaming and the elements return the sound into my own. I am here without time and in no place. I have space between the particles of my being and my bones.
Big energies levelling off with this potent moon. I feel it growling into existence. Like a dominant force of animal energy pleased to see the inside instead of the outer shell.
The inner home is in need of “getting ready” the old just won’t do….boldness is required.
I forgot how satisfying it is to create, to get messy, paint, chop and squeeze.
To make in the moment, forget the chaos and remember me.
I lost time, and place and to silence the world around and be inside of me.
This took me back to rose petals in jars, to a pebble in my pocket weeks after being on the beach.
This reminded me of me…
Furious Boundaries. The ruins here are crumbling, held by steel girders, holding up what was, what has been. Once thought of as picturesque now it’s unsafe and corrosive. The old decaying structure is sinking into the Earth. The railings are rusted and the scream of spirit of place says break it down. Emotions of anger, violation and division. Separation is no longer acceptable.
I am the Love that never dies
I am She who calls to you from whispers, sound, vibrations of the Heart.
I come in Dark and Light
In Strength and Fear
Do not fade at what comes before you
Do not bluster or storm
You are always in my Love
I am carrying your torch of Light
To guide a way for you to be open
Be present
Be in Teaching
Of the moment
Nothing evades you
Nothing withheld from you
As all love can be received
All thanks to Love
In openness
Of Divine Love
Be open
Be gracious
Of the Love that never dies
I hear the birds at sunset as they gather themselves high in the trees. In the cabin the light fades from hues of orange, to blues to black, mesmerising me, enticing me to close my eyes. In the last light I push the table in front of the door, position the chair ninety degrees, my arm on the table top, I rest my head, my eyelids too heavy to lift…all is dark anyway. The cabin is now my shelter, a square shack, old and tired, draughty too. I have not heard the door handle rattling at night so I now sleep some hours in the dark. The wall opposite the door is made of stone and after pulling boards away from the centre to reveal a fire grate, I can light a small fire. In the grate was a tin pan, a cup and a spoon and camping flint. My feet are still so cold and I use the blanket I found here to wrap them at night. But they are so terribly cold. The fire produces some heat but it loses to the draughts eventually. The floor is made of wooden boards and the spaces between the slats means only the chair can be slept on, but dawn breaks with sun, always the sun.
My days have been spent venturing outside of the cabin. I wake to the sound of the birds, such a noise…and hunger pains. Only a few feet away is a stream, just across the path, a safe distance to collect water I heat in the pan and drink. I found berry bushes at the side of the shack too, probably planted by the previous owner. I can survive on this for a few nights as I am sure people will be looking for me by now so if I just stay… they will come. Occasionally at midday I think I hear voices, like on that first day. I am unable to climb that embankment it seems too steep and wet from the rain. People are close… I know it, so it will only be a day maybe and I will be found. I feel I need to remain here near the shack, to wander into the woods again would be so foolish. I would only enter the muddy paths again and the rain would purge down… like that first day. I am resolved…resolved to being found. I have no map, no compass to find my way back …I can’t be stranded again like that frozen day. No, staying here is the only option now, soon they will come…I know it.
A touch, a hand with loving care.
Clutching fingers embrace and calm the despair.
Enveloping a message in a time of need,
Hold on take heed.
Fingers latch, a firm call.
Making a promise, catching if you fall.
Your prompt: fingers
Today’s form: prose poetry
Today’s device: assonance
We’ve tackled alliteration last week — the strategic repetition of consonants in close proximity to each other. Today, let’s give assonance a try. It’s the same thing, only with vowels.
Medicinalmeadows 