I am not a Time Lord

Boxes of memories

Unpacked chaotically

Peeling open wounds

Long since scarred

Headlong thrown

Through ages of the self

So many versions of me

Through time.



Yet not dissonant

Harmonic unification

Of the selves

That become me.

Words by Errant Satiety.

Image ‘Dust to Dust’ courtesy of Pathogens on DeviantART

Ear parcel

The child’s mind; some thoughts on the past

Pertinent today as always!

Errant Satiety


My mind to mind, heart to heart, soul to soul conversation with my brother last night brought my firm beliefs about childhood experiences and the past into clear focus. A good friend of mine, who has been a counsellor for many years, often states ‘children are great recorders of information but not good interpreters’. I agree with this wholeheartedly (although, I will note that there are exceptional children that do seem to be great interpreters). While I do not believe in excessive reminiscing of past experiences, particularly in the form of rehashing the past over and over and awakening all the emotion that was felt at that time, I do believe that sometimes we need to assist our ‘childish’ memories to be rewritten with our adult consciousness.

I see life as being like a great tree:

  • The roots being our core beliefs and where we come from
  • The trunk being…

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Being authentic has become a bit of a ‘thing’, like mindfulness and wellbeing, yet it is the most incredible state of being, that invites participation, integrity, and transparency. To me, it is the only way of being, when I sense myself, my loved ones or anyone else being anything less than authentic it invites me to be more present with them to investigate why.

Dissonance dishonours me. Don’t give me any kind of half-truth, I can sense it, and it horrifies me. Don’t be dishonest with me, tell me what is really going on, given everything we are meant to be to each other it is nothing to be honest with me, it will likely save us hours or days of discomfort until you get brave enough to admit the truth. If only you believed me when I said I want you to be honest with me and honoured me by listening when I was being honest with you. There is no need to fear me, you are my chosen beloved, if you will allow me to be yours.

Words by Errant Satiety

Image courtesy of mabuli on DeviantArt


There was a time that I would have danced naked in the rain, walked across broken glass, hurt you, raged at you, to get your attention. Now I have it and we have danced a while; I am no longer sure how to reassure you that you are all I need. Adoring you, living our daily life may not be enough. We are mature in our love; we have both grown and changed because of our love. We are better, yet we are still scared of each other. If only I could sing to you as a violin does, express my love in a voice you could interpret… which voice would I chose to sing my love to you? Should I speak of the heartbreak of potential loss, the depth of my desire, my inability to meet your needs, my adoration of all you do, my exasperation at all you do not, my empathy for what you have been through, our intense individuality, your passion for everything you put your mind to, your annoying traits, your brilliance, your stubbornness? Everything that you are, I love in entirety.

You are all I desire, all I need.

You are the light to my shadow as I am the light to yours.

Word by Errant Satiety

Image ‘Stands Alone’ courtesy of Kevron2001 on Deviant Art

Ear Parcel: Jeff Buckley, Hallelujah


Were I to write again, would I have a voice, a valid perspective to express?

I delve deeply into the understanding of being

Every encounter is of importance to me

Every being I encounter is important to me

I hunger to understand

Hunger to know myself

I seek to know others

That I may know myself

That I may understand humanity.

Last night nature raged, a deluge of hours, hail, lightning, thunder

It was invigorating, normality ceased, attention directed toward natures expression

As the rain lashed and blue light slashed the sky continuously

All I felt was grateful to be alive to witness the glory

Grateful to love and be loved.

Words by Errant Satiety

Image from Nelson 360 degrees (photo from the actual storm I am referring to)

Ear parcel: Nina Simone “Isn’t it a Pity”

Surging tide of light

Errant Satiety


Delicate strands of desire curl lovingly but fleetingly

Within neurons that spark shattered dreams

Wisps lost to daylight and the hustle of morning

Recovered in sensuous sensation, a poem tasted

On tempted lips, tracing words with my tongue

My soul ablaze, memory flushes, mind and body

Ripe with creativities muse as she dangles her feet

Skipping toes in deep waters, quenching souls

With her laughter and delight, skipping stones

Across eons, the twinkle in her eye, a star violent

With life, vigorous, alive and ready to surge

Through sluggish neurons flushing them with life

I have been indulging in a little Wuji Seshat Nibada today and felt this tidal surge…

image uncredited

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The sun didn’t shine on this your last morn. But the sun has kissed your skin many times and you didn’t wake really, day grew around you as you gently gathered your loved ones and your last breaths, peacefully easing yourself free of pain and discomfort. I have a sense of your particles released, dispersed back into the world, finding your beloved places, nestling near those you love and perhaps those you did not to ever nudge them gently more toward your way. And the spring rains fell, the world crying then smiling and laughing, like the birds dancing in the rain. It was the perfect day for your passing. Death in the face of the bursting beauty of springs rejuvenation as we all imagine you off dancing toward your next adventure.

Farewell my dear friend.


A loved one is leaving…


A beloved leaves this world and I must repost this poem in honour of his journey (give the ear parcel a chance, open it in another tab watch the first few moments then read the poem, I am unapolgetically scandinavian even if my beloved friend is a lion; David my Lion this poem is for you)…

Leave the familiar for a while.

Let your senses and bodies stretch out
Like a welcomed season

Onto the meadow and shores and hills.
Open up to the Roof.

Make a new watermark on your excitement

And love.
Like a blooming night flower,

Bestow your vital fragrance of happiness

And giving

Upon our intimate assembly.
Change rooms in your mind for a day.
All the hemispheres in existence

Lie beside an equator

In your heart.
Greet Yourself

In your thousand other forms

As you mount the hidden tide and travel

Back home.
All the hemispheres in heaven

Are sitting around a fire

While stitching themselves together

Into the Great Circle inside of


Hafez (1325–1390)

Khwāja Shamsu d-Dīn Muhammad Hāfez-e Shīrāzī

(*such dignity!* – errant)

image courtesy of Kijani_Lion

Ear parcel

Freedom, joy?


Daily, I struggle in this world of narcissists and the ignorant. I am not perfect, no where near such. But it would be an absolute pleasure to hear realism expressed. When I ask you: ‘How are you doing?’ and you say; ‘yeah, I’m good”. When what you really mean is: ‘I really don’t know, things are pretty rough right now’. We are all living in some kind of fantasy… every day is exactly the same the same when we are are in reality seeking something else. But we keep behaving the same way, pushing our fear down enough to exist but not enough to become more than we are.


It owns us.

Freedom is not simple.

Challenge the gods within yourself and choose to believe…

but, is everything around you exactly as it seems?

Is who you see in your reflection too hard to see…

That is where we start.

Looking in the eyes we see daily.

Loving them, no matter what.

No matter what.

Love them, no matter what.

No matter what,

love them…

an example of joy in life

Words errant

image courtesy of Michel-Lag-Chavarria

Ear parcel: Gods gonna cut you down