String Theory

It is a series of threads

Each anchored to me

Reaching out into the world

Never the same direction

At my feet lay the broken ones

Ends frayed, some bloody, some burnt

Others pulled taut to the point of pain

The looseness of a few, tripping me up

The movement of some pulling me along

The rigidity of some holding me in place

Some I can see- some move off into the ether where I can not see, just feel

It’s is a series of threads

Supporting

Letting go

Am I bound

Am I the make up of all theses things woven together

Am I the spool underneath this tangled mass

It is a series of threads

She

I flirt with her

We get so close, I feel her heart beat. So different than my own, it’s sure, steady, strong. She is a warrior. Her stillness is intoxicating, it fills me with want.

I tell myself a story, imagining what it would be like to have that from the inside. To inhabit such a creature, who is all at once wild chaos, yet very much in controlled command.

I flirt with her

I bring her close, we play reveal and I run. Looking at her through the glass, she is brandishing her sword. Ready for battle, ready for play. Her marks show up on my skin to remind me.

Dark swirls, symbols of memory, power and the stamp of ownership. Her voice is power, echoing in my head- my own unsteady as it passes through my lips. Unsure, I bow to that which is around me.

I flirt with her

I want to be consumed. Reborn through her body and soul. Confident, soft flesh, yielding and revealing. Open yet showing nothing to the undeserving. How can we be so different? Yet one

We flirt, each time we get closer to melding, for a moment I see through her eyes, her voice begins to sing through my lips. Fear clenches my teeth, unsure, I bow to that which is around me.

She is moving closer to the surface, her magic is written on me, no longer will she be contained. The most powerful monster to defeat is my own fear. The fear of truly feeling her within me.

Becoming one and losing myself. Unleashing that which has always been, buried under false expectations, wounds and masks of identity. Fear of not knowing her, yet so completely sure that she is what I want.

I flirt with her intensely, she begins to look back at me through the glass. Compassionate wild eyes. A spine of steel. Waiting to embrace me with the strength that has held me through so much. I allow her power to sit low inside me, hot humming passion and rage.

I close my eyes. To feel her. To feel me. The purpose in her breathe moving into mine. The strength of her heart echoing through each beat of my own

We flirt. We dance. We embrace so wholly her ancient power melts into my own passion. Awakening Accepting that this internal affair may burn up life around me The ash affording the new growth

Rage ( Pt2, the Kicker)

The kicker

I’ve worked so hard from where this knocked me to the last time I was finding ‘self’.

I built hope

Hope that there was misinformation and miscommunication that could be healed

But I was so far down, buried in shame

Things I held true disintegrated like my hard fought ability to trust

But I resolved to build, trusting the vision I had would come, it feels like it is meant to be. The feelings of love in my heart would build a better foundation

Every baby step I make, a look or breath of a word can knock me down.

I resolve to lead by an example.

I resolve to lead without shame

I resolve to stay open to love and trust

I resolve to stop letting myself down and treasure the very humanness I am told is what shines ( not shame as the whispers say)

Here we are again

You only listen when you like what I have to say

you only look when it suits you

you will talk and talk and talk and talk

and it doesn’t seem to matter

the parts of me that make you uncomfortable

the parts of me that frustrate you

the parts of me that are trying to grow and express

Are time and time again

told

too much

there are times I can carry this

use it to fuel me to keep growing

there are times when it guts me

and leaves me bleeding on the floor

unseen unheard unalive

My 40s in Symbols

I didn’t get my first tattoo until I was beginning my 40s. In a few days, I’ll be 49. Today I just got my 9th tattoo.

Each tattoo is a symbol for something. This past decade I have been through some very dark moments, and have shed many things of myself.

This was the first. I had just surpassed my Mother’s age of death. This is my blood, my Celt roots, my Nan, my Mom, my son and my daughter. This was my mark to celebrate the gift of life.

My Ouroboros and Pentacle. My rebirth into my spiritual practice. Something in me felt a deep pull to learn and reconnect to the things that speak to me. This would be more important than I would have ever guessed.
‘Witch Know Thyself’

This sigil is a reminder I am stronger than my demons. At this point in my life I had made a kind of peace that anxiety and CPTSD may always be a part of me, but they would not defeat me

Next in Moon Glyphs I choose to keep another version of the elements with me. The Pentacle being the other. The two on the top represent balance and life. It was a reminder that I will strive for harmony with in myself and my environment

Things started to get a little shaky for me. Mental health wise I shut down. A mix of burnout and elevation of anxiety and old trauma surfacing. Being compounded by upheaval and high tension around me.

A symbol to honour the Goddess Morrigan. I had connected with her to help guide me as I found my self in a very dark, anxious place. This was a reminder I was not alone in this pitch, she would prop me up when I fumbled.

There can be a point when it feels like all your pieces have blown apart. A raw exposed nerve. I felt so ugly, shamed, worthless. This piece ( The Enzo) represents finding beauty in unfinished imperfection. Even though I did not feel beautiful, I could identify with not yet being finished.

A very tumultuous time preceded a much needed break and reconnecting trip with my husband to my spiritual home – New Orleans

This was at the end of the first year of Covid, I knew my mental health was taking a hit. I was struggling under the weight of old trauma patterns I wanted to break. The uncertainty of the world, and a deep disconnected feeling. The arrow was to remind me know matter how far back I feel I’ve gone, my trajectory is forward. AKF has been an important part of sustaining me. It’s a wonderful online support ( Always Keep Fighting)

I have been doing intense work over the last year. Working on releasing trauma patterning, learning about myself, the light and dark. At times the realizations have been hard. The pain uncovered, the isolation. Things I want to repair but am unsure how, setting firm boundaries. Again I’ve called to the Morrigan to remind me that I’m am strong, a worthy warrior.

Which bought me to this, as I’m days away from my 49th. A reminder of the armoury I am building. I have defences that are not toxic, but are strong. It is within hands reach.

I do not know what this last year of my 40s will bring, what I do know is, that this past decade has had incredible highs and lows. I’ve gained and lost so much. I am hoping my 50s will be more learning but less drops. I know it will be recorded, the pictures on my skin a reminder to myself of my journey, my growth and my power.

Your Mirage No More

I open my mouth

The words come out

But they are not mine

Ask me my dreams

Then tell me what they are

Ask me who I am

Then tell me who it is

Clear my throat

Louder I try

Offence is taken

At my louder clarity

Do I frighten you?

Does my truth not fit?

I am not yours to create

You say I misinterpret

You say it is my fault

This crushes

But I’m learning to dig my feet in

And to keep clearing my throat

I open my mouth

Clear

It is your filter that is broken

Mother’s Day

A rush of emotion today. I first became a mom almost 28 years ago-

I made one of the best and hardest decisions of my life. That child has grown to a fine man, and I am forever grateful to the Mom I chose for him, she is the template I strive to emulate.

13 years ago, the little bean in my belly was months away from being born, and today my gratitude for the beautiful soul that chose me only grows. There’s been challenges, mistakes, adventures, laughter and frustrations but all of it with love.

36 years ago, the two women who raised me, were lost to me. My Mom and my Nan went to summerland when I was 12, but I can still recall smells, touches, snippets of wisdom and silliness ( although the true sound of the voices are but phantoms). My Nan’s wisdom and curiosity reside in my heart and soul. My Mom’s love and humour I imagine are woven into my life’s armour.

There have been women in my life who have mothered me gently, who have mothered me firmly and offered their wisdom, guidance and love. I hold much gratitude for all of them.

Today is a mix of joy and grief. The intensity of love. ❤️

“But what is grief if not love persevering?” – Vision

We are born of love. Love is our Mother – Rumi

Illuminate

I asked
Show me what to change
Show me what is missing
Show me what remains

I began to dig in the dirt- take the monuments apart
I took a moment to listen to my heart – the whispers buried in the rubble
I appreciated what appeared- if only for a moment.

I sighed
It will take patience
Nothing, for it is within me and in front of me
It may not be where I want it, but trust it will be when I need it most

It’s coming….. pre birthday thoughts

Have you ever been nervous? Not that little bit of jittery catch my breath kind of nervous, but the kind that parallels anxiety so deeply you don’t know if you’re experiencing exhilaration or just an abject ripping apart of your heart and soul.

Every year as my birthday rolls around, this seems to be the overwhelming feeling growing as each year passes.

I try to distract myself with people, places, activities.

But Covid has seen to the fact that I don’t have my distractions, the shut down not only of the world at large, but of peoples minds and hearts because they’re overwhelmed, can at times make it feel like I’m adrift calling out to empty echoes.

I don’t say this for pity, I say this is fact. We are all on survival and I am not special.

Most think that each birthday I have lived should be a victory lap, for the cycles I have tried to break, for making it to an age that I hadn’t really pictured.

I do see each year as a gift, a gift of time with my family, a gift of time to be able to have purpose in the world, to do good things, to help people as best as I can.

But this year, this godforsaken year has been so hard. So many right things to be trying to do, Politic, health and relationship building. Trying to adapt and adjust my own career to what comes next, what I’ll find fulfillment with, where I’ll find my spark.

And today as I sit and look out at the blue sky, and try to fill the landscape of my day with something to make my heart happy, all I can really feel is exhaustion with the underlying electric current of nervousness.

I’m not sure what comes next, I really don’t think anybody is. I just don’t want to lose my drive to get there. Give in to the pain my body feels as I’m trying to coax it to strength and flexibility. Give in to the high anxiety I have been battling. To keep to the positive things I’m trying to do. Who do I want to be, where will I be and who will be with me, this next turn of the wheel? The dogs that are my coffee dates this morning hold no answers.

These are the thoughts I have over coffee before my day begins, I will go to nature, I will touch the ground, I will be thankful for what I have, and remind myself of the joy of curiosity of what’s to come.

Your Prison

It’s ok.

Vulnerability is hard, but I don’t judge you for it.

I don’t judge you for not knowing. For finding it so difficult.

Your tears don’t frighten me.

Your fears don’t frighten me.

I see your overwhelmed humanness

I never had any other expectations- you had already placed so many upon yourself.

I can not fix it for you. But I will be here while you try. A hand to hold, a shoulder to lean, an ear to listen and a heart full of compassion to rest in.

The walls you built to hold you up imprison you with your demons. You have made it hard to reach you, the noise so deafening you can not hear. The frustration of self so loud you think the sound is outside your head and coming from my lips.

If you looked in my eyes, the reflection of you that you would see is one of gentleness, kindness, love

Not the unworthy monster you believe is lurking.

Yet- you think I must lie. How can I see your strength, your beauty, your worth? You demonstrated it over and over to those around, but forgotten to save a bit of light for yourself.

The light you gave me to hold once, when my own battle became so dark I could not see, is a treasure I wish to return to you, to light your way. But you can not see enough to take it.

My heart aches watching you battle. Seeing your wounds erupt from within. I can not love you enough to fill the holes you keep tearing. How can you believe your grace is poison?

How can you believe you are not loved?

I ask the Gods to help you, to hear you, to guide you through. I’ll always be here, when you release yourself from the dark.