Nature, enter me

So very relevant right now…

Errant Satiety

The wink of stars on a clear night, an open window to worlds beyond, it drives my soul to distraction. And when clouds fill the window of sky with the rolling of thunder, a hammer to shudder the atmosphere, lightening to brighten the mind, my toes curl with pleasure. A gentle shower gifting rainbows and prisms of light. Wind intense or subtle that I shelter or open my arms too. I pray that the subtlety to feel the pull of stars song exists within us all. I pray we allow natures thunder to enter us. Turn not blindly from the beauty of existence but embrace its unique wisdom. What do your elements ask you to feel? What do they write on the window of your life?

A little something to accompany my thoughts… (especially the words that come in at 4.40 to the end)

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The state of our soul

Soul II

There have been various perceptions within humanities experience in relation to the concept of the ‘soul’. There has been the belief that that a soul upon physical death becomes a part of the earth and within the genetics of the generations that remain; or that the soul enters another realm dependent upon the individuals souls worthiness, variously referenced as Nirvana, Heaven, Hell, Hades and other capitalised bifurcated nouns related to various beliefs; or that the soul was recycled/reincarnated into another animate form. Now, in the digital age there are other newer concepts of soul, that the soul can be potentially recorded, downloaded, replicated or at least stored, indefinitely.

Do some, or none, of these concepts give any consolation to the bereaved? What does it do to our psyche? Do we start to think we are invincible, irreplaceble, immortal? We are starting to live within a real and virtual world concurrently. The concept that we can correct any wrong, or that we can do no wrong because ‘it was virtual’ is starting to seep into our general concepts of the physical world we live in, at the same time as we potentially start to emotionally and intellectually vacate it. Vacating, this incredibly beautiful world that exists, that may not exist in ‘x’ number of years ahead of us. The more the gateway to escapism exists we will seek it. Currently that gateway is at its optimal high and growing exponentially.

Regardless of expectation of where ones ‘soul’ or consciousness might arrive at eventually, one’s own understanding of the self is the greatest power one can ever have. Some of us, can understand our souls within a virtual expression of the world, engaging with others of like mind, communicating with others of like mind. We may never find those connections in the ‘real world’. There is nothing wrong with this kind of companionship, nothing at all. Unless it is all one has. Then there is no measure between the real and the virtual or online engagement. Then, lines become blurred. Unless you are an entirely self-contained individual (and there many of those in the world), in which case you are likely just fine. Some souls require nourishment from physical interaction with other souls. I try to attain both elements. I am aware that I am more inclined to a particular way but know I should keep trying all manner of ways… particularly because I don’t believe that technology is in any way prepared to manage my soul as I would intend, therefore it is important that I behave with the integrity I desire, the intellect, the understanding, the subtlety, the beauty of my individualness that may never, ever be seen again.


ear parcel: Max Richter ‘Written on the Sky’

Image stolen from SOUL-SENs



As I propel myself through this world of dimmed light, I find illumination.

Unravelling trauma, I discover lost memories or clarify half remembered ones, re-experiencing these memories as an adult I find holistic answers that enable me to free up an anxiety or fear based response where one is no longer required. My vision and thoughts become clearer by removing extraneous, fear-filled noise. It’s a layer cake of experience; taking care, time, patience, will and approaching things from various directions and in a variety of forms. I carry my trauma in my body and my parasympathetic system. Working with the mind is only one part of my unravelling. A gentle, kind reboot of the entire system every time a new discovery is unearthed is required. Each time, more of my authentic self emerges and she is increasingly content.


Image courtesy of drkshp

Softly spoken anger


I am, by nature, a gentle and kind person. I give too much and often find it hard to say ‘no’. I am not a push-over by any means, I am strong and some men (I am speaking in platonic terms here) find me intimidating when I speak my mind. But there is anger within me. Sometimes I express this anger and I usually do not do it well. It is my learning curve. Yesterday I responded to a security complaint in my workplace, I went toward it confident and calm. I met the complainant, heard their concerns and approached the party allegedly at fault, I approached in a relax manner and as I went to introduce myself I was met with a verbal barrage of unsavoury insulting language. It was like being punched in the stomach by a stranger on the street. Luckily support was immediately at hand and I was saved further confrontation. I know the vitriolic anger was not intended for me yet it still created fear and hurt. This situation helps serve as a reminder that it probably feels somewhat similar when I express my anger inappropriately, thus, this experience fuels my intention of learning to express myself with control, that I can be heard without verbally assaulting the one I wish to hear me. That I can softly speak my anger without creating fear or anxiety, only open lines of genuine communication.


Image courtesy of Prometheus1706



It has a name, that sensation where you are on fire, whether with creativity or logic, that state where everything is firing at once and you feel you are making huge strides in what it is you are working on achieving. Where you are extending your skills, applying all you have to complete something, even where there is no apparent reward. It is called ‘flow’. A state of harmony between all parts of the self where the ultimate gain from all areas is being produced; total absorption involving challenging the self and pushing ourselves to the limit of our ability that results in enjoyment. Such a delight, to have flow at any point in your given life or work week, such a state is highly desirous, pulling the sense of ultimate joy that we all at least once experienced in childhood, into our waking adult lives. It is possible to be a grown up and still have that wonderful sensation we experienced as children, to still have ‘play’ in our adult world. And, indeed it is actually more productive than almost any other state of being.

Reference: Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi / TED talk on Flow

Here are two illustrative examples from ballet, one is from before the curtain raises and two what it feels like once the audiences eyes are upon you… don’t get me wrong here, these are examples of experts in their field, but we ALL experience a sense of flow somewhere in our lives. It might be when we touch type without making mistakes, it might be playing our favourite social sport, online game, in our work, fixing something, when we solve puzzles… flow can be experienced anywhere. Reproducing a sense of flow everywhere we can in our adult world, like when we played freely as children, is the potential acheivement. Can you recall a time as a child, before any darkness touched you and even after, when you had that feeling within your the depth of the world of your play? That almost indescribable sense of belonging and wholeness? A place of knowing, something we all had at some point, regardless of the trauma we encountered. Later, play may have been an escape from pain so it is important to find a memory that was pleasurable but not escapist. If we can reclaim a sense of flow, even a tiny piece of it, then, we are whole, because we are real, because we are in comand of ourselves, even if only briefly. To smooth the edges of that sensation, to bring a sense of flow into all we do… would be to make heaven on earth.


Image courtesy of Allof-I 

Ear parcel



The eyes tell all. I always look to a persons eyes to get a sense of who they are. In some cultures this is behaviour is not acceptable, yet I still steal glimpses. I cannot help myself. The thing I remember most about my two older brothers when we were growing up are their eyes, even when they were raging against the world, when they raged against our parents, each other, or God. I saw it all in their eyes. The little sister who they were supposed to protect but who intimidated, irritated and impositioned them, I saw their despair, their pain, their righteousness and their love. I was too small to protect them, they did, many times protect me and I found ways I could save them, ways they may never know about. All our collective childhood trauma aside something is happening to us all this year. Each of us is suffering from an accident that has physically grounded us, stilled us and forced us to face ourselves, face our inner selves. I am proud to find we are connecting, communicating and expressing love and support to one another despite the difference in each others experience, to heal what appears to me to be a deep seated family trauma. We shared the experiences and have attempted to heal but have found ourselves stuck over and over, unable to communicate through fear, apparent separation and now finally, through the language of pain and acceptance, we have found one another again. Life is oddly synchronous and utterly beautiful.


Ear parcels… “Everyone carries a room about inside them. This fact can be proved by means of the sense of hearing. If someone walks fast and one pricks up one’s ears and listens, say at night, when everything round about is quiet, one hears, for instance, the rattling of a mirror not quite firmly fastened to the wall.”

Radiohead – Daydreaming

Otis Taylor – Resurrection Blues


Image 1 courtesy of TalesOfNightWing

Image 2 courtesy of Emmixxalot on deviantart

Daughter of Sparta Part III

detail-of-head-of-helen-P (2)

In all the blinding ceremonious accolades my eyes alighted upon the Prince, Pleistoanax. I had never once in our adjacent lives felt he had any particular awareness of me. Given the current circumstance, I wondered if I were wrong, and if so, what had I missed? I knew his current ‘submissive’ expression of himself was not a true representation of him, having witnessed his prowess among the trainees, I knew he was unquestionably a spartan warrior endowed with all the arrogant assumption due such a one, yet he had not in his dealings with my family, or his, expressed any great leadership trait. Perhaps, he was embarrassed by his reasoning behind his decisions and behaviour? Perhaps he felt misunderstood by his family. He, as all of Sparta did, understood that his claim to the throne was not a direct genetic line and that he must prove himself worthy of the title of King to claim the title, yet he was meek in these dealings of choosing a wife, allowing his father to lead the assault against my potential, yet he was assured, he somehow knew of my newly moulded divinity and was assured of its proving. Perhaps he was meek through sheer, what? Being overcome? From desire that he thought could come to naught or newly kindled desire because of my ‘divinity’? Suddenly, this distinction became paramount to me. I would have answer, I did not fear the Lord Apollo nor any other being anymore, thus questioning a man who would be my husband that I did not yet know at all seemed both imperative and trivial in consequence.

The Lord Apollo excused himself to attend his daily duty and, as his divine sun departed the room, a darkness fell, and the elders moved to the courtyard to toast their familial joining taking with them the great portion of helots. The Prince and I were suddenly alone. As Apollo had departed so did my wings, his parting words to me were that I would learn to command them, but it would take time, I covered myself in the cloak I carried and for the first time questioned its origin. Pleistoanax seemed willing to linger and perhaps then prepared to speak. ‘My Lord,’ I ventured, and his gaze rose to me immediately, ‘I must ask, did you ever intend such an offer as you offered this bright morn?’ His face expressed all manner of emotion, impossible to read. I understood I must suffer the getting-to-know-the-man who would be my husband to comprehend his experience.

‘Lady Cymone,’ at which he inclined his head to me which I found both unnervingly distasteful and somewhat appealing, ‘I have observed you since perhaps both we understood ourselves as individual to our parents, yet, given my station and the lack, through traditional Spartan merit, of yours, I have had to refrain from declaring myself. I have been a singular observer to your sensational beauty and will, now the gods have discovered you the irony is that again to be your husband I must bear witness to… well, all that our Lord Apollo would have of you. It is not an easy cost, yet I would pay any value given my feebleness and fear compared to your, your being. I accept his claim and admit his parameters have some piercing appeal to me. Yet, had I laid claim to you, including all your supposed weaknesses we would have owned them together, but I dallied and argued within myself thus now my hand is forced, and I throw my lot in with yours as I had always intended, yet as observer still.’ This speech stilled me. I did not recall Pleistoanax had paid me any particular mind, thus I searched my memories but came up short, there were too many full of discontent observers that I sought to ignore through the devoutness of my movement in opposition to the Spartan desire for perfection of athletic movement, I moved athletically but with innovation and freewill, not limited to the choreographed Spartan dances. Perhaps, I ignored those that wished me well. ‘My Lord, I am ashamed that I missed your intentions of well-meaning, I was sorely accustomed to ill-intent and was perhaps too guarded to allow those of positive regard to be observed.’ At this the Prince smiled, in fact he was alight within as he returned his gaze to me. ‘My lady, you seem to have no idea how your movement affected those who were witness to it.’ I allowed him this, I had no immediate injunction as I had no concept of what he proposed. ‘My Lord, I believe in my surrender to the dance, I bade disservice to my fellow Spartans by misinterpreting or ignoring their responses to my expression.’ It seemed it was Pleistoanax’s turn to find no tongue. Our eyes locked and my heart thundered in my chest for what I found in his obsidian gaze, there was a fire within him that I knew kindled solely because of me. After a long moment I threw my gaze to the food and wine and invited my Prince to toast our betrothment.

With no helots in sight I moved to serve my Prince some wine discovering that the cloak I had pulled about my form was too long and hampered my movement. ‘My lady, perhaps I should call a helot to properly robe you, my cloak is an ill fit and although I believe you are graceful and becoming in any attire, you may be more comfortable in your own.’ I was momentarily shocked, then realised that Apollo had said Pleistoanax understood the conditions he had imparted, the Prince himself had acknowledged them. ‘My Lord, you were witness to what passed in the grove?’ He nodded and moved to serve himself wine and refresh my own. I understood my astonishment was ludicrous, but much had passed in the past day. As Pleistonanax held out my glass of wine to me I realised we should properly salute our new state before I pressed for further knowledge. Our eyes locked as we drank to our intended joining, we each sipped our wine then drew to one another and kissed. He was forthright and strong, I softened into his kiss enjoying the firm heat of his lips and taste of our shared wine. Flutters of delight struck up within my womb and my cheeks flushed merrily. This was my first real experience, first taste of heated human sensual interaction with a male. What had I known? What did I expect? His cheeks were roughened with new beard growth, he had not refreshed himself with shaving this hastened morn. I found a deep desire for deeper encounter and reached to kiss him more deeply. After some time of this oral exploration we both seperated to take breath, smiles full of coyness and excitement.We drank and ate, our eyes both privately consuming one another and seeking retreat. Such innocents we were!

Burning within me was answer to the questions I had surrounding my night with Apollo that I eventually found voice, ‘My Lord, your understanding of my newly encountered situation suggests that perhaps you have knowledge that I may not.’ He sighed deeply looking down for some time before raising his eyes to me once more. ‘Lady Cymone, I regret I behaved poorly. I followed you to the grove, concerned that some mischief may come to you so far distant to the haven of our city. I observed in secret your dance for the gods and as you faltered I would have reached for you and carried you home but a brightness unknown came upon me, our Lord Apollo took voice from me and shaded my eyes that I could bear witness to his blessing of you. He knew my devotion to you, and knew, in my love that I would serve him in his desire. I thank him in that he forced my hand to play and now we will be wed, I regret that I must accommodate his will, yet some part of me finds desire in the knowing that the one I choose a god also chooses.’ My mouth was dry with anticipation, this man loved me! Yet he was not yet done. ‘When Lord Apollo departed, he made me swear I would uphold the bargain, he left you asleep in a poorly made bed of underbrush, in the dimness of his departure I clothed you in my cloak and awaited your stirring before I quietly departed the grove. Thus, as you will well know, I directly spoke with my family to announce my desires.’ Our family interrupted this discourse, our eyes caught and expressed their bitter disappointment at the disruption, coy smiles erupted both our faces as we attended our family’s needs.

Part 1 here

Part 2 here