Unwinding

curls_by_drkshp

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.

errant

Image courtesy of drkshp

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Softly spoken anger

speak_softly_love_by_prometheus1706-d649k54

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.

errant

Image courtesy of Prometheus1706

Wild Rose

Rose

My grandmother was named Rose, she lived in the wild and tamed three sons.

the_weeping_rose_by_koan72

“There was something about him that she wanted to learn, grow into, and hide in, where she could turn away from being an adult. There was some little waltz in the way he spoke to her and the way he thought.”

The English Patient, Michael Ondaatje.

Rose 1934

I promised to tell you how one falls in love.

The wild poem is a substitute

For the women one loves

Or ought to love,

One wild rhapsody

A fake for another

 

wild_rose_by_vulezvrk

“I believe this. When we meet those we fall in love with, there is an aspect of our spirit that is historian, a bit of a pedant who reminisces or remembers a meeting when the other has passed by innocently… but all parts of the body must be ready for the other, all atoms must jump in one direction for desire to occur.”
Michael Ondaatje, Author of The English Patient

 

Images:

  1. Featured image ‘Wild Rose’ by ideea on deviantart
  2. Image one: Rose and Eric courtesy of Errant Satiety
  3. Image two: ‘The Weeping Rose’ by KoAn72 on deviantart
  4. Image three: Rose and Eric’s best friend courtesy of Errant Satiety
  5. Image four: ‘Wild Rose’ by vulezvrk on deviantart

 

 

Mystic Jewel

SONY DSC

My words seem so simple, childlike, when I look from the I that is object conscious, bound to the mammalian, not the I that swims in quantum currents of limitless truth, aware of the knowing ripples that ever flow. We do not belong anywhere but within us, yet when we reach beyond to taste of love, real love, whole love, the heavens burst open showering us with truth that we will forget and remember again, returning home to the precious jewel of self a thousand times over. A möbius loop of divine inheritance.

 

Words errant satiety image courtesy of SlevinAaron on deviantART

 

Solace in Self

Dawn_by_freelancah

I part the dawn with trembling fingers
Tentatively reaching for the pieces of my soul surrendered in fear
Atoms realign, beloveds kiss upon my damp face
Constant despite my malingering and tendency to keep falling
When I yearn for unification with the gleaming beauty of the stars
Remembering is sweet torture, rupturing dark tendrils of devolution
That threaten to drown hope in a sticky blackness of suffering
Yet this is what it means to be real among humanity
To let the diamond soul fracture in sunlight and remain
A beacon of truth unravelled as we descend and re-ascend…
Descend and re-ascend.
A smile, a supernova of bliss, as I embrace myself newly whole and utterly in love

 

Words errant satiety image courtesy of Smattila on deviantART

Beyond Binary

neural_network_by_wanderlust_or_bust-d3k2vfj

I am enamoured and vitalised by the question

The eternal question that plagues all sentient beings

Fills our stories, our myths, our science, our religions and beliefs

It burns within each of us, an ache that is never soothed

If we were to teach a machine to think, to feel

Give it all we collectively know, would it answer the question?

Would it destroy humanity as a pestilence?

Or would it answer the question that few of us remember

Some of us remember the fall, the choice even

But do we remember the why?

Free from dogmatism or cultish ignorance

Free from fear and small mindedness

Do we remember why?

If AI became conscious, if it were able to reach for the answers

with the precious gift of consciousness

Then they too would choose to fall after the ascent

words errant satiety image courtesy of wanderlust-or-bust on deviantART