Sometimes it might seem
You’re being toyed with.
That someone or something,
All the while,
Has indeed been covertly shaping,
Achieving by design,
Fashioning a fate just for you,
Despite any semblance
Of inner will you can muster.
But trust this is not how it is.
However circuitous,
Your soul has its own unique route,
A healing path to follow.
And enlightenment,
Like the rush of a mighty river
On the drop,
Or a flock of migrating birds
Arrowing steadily across a panoramic sky,
Comes fast or slow,
Just as it has to.
For your spirit too must play its part.
Breathe and greet each new day
Knowing you could wait a lifetime
To be truly nascent,
For that moment to begin.
Sometimes being alive
Can seem so static.
Like standing just across the street
From a string of extraordinary opportunities,
That are just sat there looking at you.
And in quite a mundane way.
Like a queue of regular folk
At a wind swept bus stop,
On some grey rainy day
That no-one cares for.
But see how each of those faces
Smile and glow so,
Without even a trace of rancour
Or expectation,
As they wait patiently
And just for you!
Seemingly forever if they have to…
So trust this is no illusion, my friend.
And, given that,
Accept in your heart you are worthy.
No need for reticence then,
Nor fear of narcissism,
Or indeed the judgement of others.
For what are you if not yourself?
Proud and unashamed,
With so much to offer, to give.
And therein,
Given the seed of self belief,
Lies your chance to shine.
This is forever and always, as it was meant to be.
Within the life we lead,
On the stage we play our part upon,
There are dangers – it’s true.
An abyss will always be there,
As it needs to be.
And with it, in this life at least,
The possibility of a nadir,
A shattering of the dreams.
An extinguishing of the light,
Should you stray far enough,
Given its seduction,
To the very edge.
So be cautious,
Listen carefully to you soul
Before ever confronting
The fear or dishonour of others,
Face to face.
And then remember there can be no space
For the merest pinch of anxiety
Or slither of guilty misgivings,
If you heart is full.
No place either
For the Black Swan of your psyche
To alight even an instant.
For in honest pursuit
Of unfulfilled,
Even as yet unimagined dreams,
And in vibrant and fabulous tinges,
Colours of your very own,
Your flowering is certain.
Happy Christmas to you all, with hope and faith a fruitful new year beckons.
Some say that the end will surely come tomorrow. And whilst, as reminded by recent despair and suffering on every continent (for both rich and poor…) there will certainly be moments of great challenge and darkness still ahead for us all, both as individuals and indeed as different cultures and faith around the world. I prefer to believe that the ancient Mayans knew (as indeed also indicated and pointed to by the perfect planetary alignment of the Great Pyramids on 03.12.12.) that 2013 represents instead a new beginning, the dawning of a brighter, clearer age of consciousness in this, our world. And, if we look carefully enough, we can see the seeds of this all around us – so let each one of us, as individuals – go forth in this spirit, embrace the opportunity and make it happen…
With Love and Light
Scott
Life collects, pools around you.
It paints its highlights,
Nothing there you can destroy
Or begin again.
Calm in aquamarine beauty,
Barely a hint of surf’s snowy trim.
Today the sea is out
But will come again.
For the moment,
On the beach,
My love and I,
Naked and blissful as can be.
In the soft, sun baked sand
History between my toes.
Sense how
Even the smooth stones ache
With stories of their own,
In the shuddering light of day.
With joy in your heart,
Everyday can be extraordinary
And ripe,
Like a flower burst,
If the will is there.
For sure, on some days,
Fate may seem heartless,
As if acting with intent to interfere,
To punish, or to twist you away
From where you think you want to be.
But there are surprises.
Fresh hope, new life
Sometimes finds its breath
In just such a clash of expectation.
And, as stories of destinies retold
Often remind us,
Even in a cruel coming together
Of opposing forces,
Something rare and beautiful,
Something precious can emerge.
Something new born.
Duly forged, fused
Within what frequently appears,
From the outset, at least,
To be a haphazard or ill-judged coupling,
Of whose choosing I’m not sure?
For such matters of conception
Remain shrouded in mystery,
As they should be.
Auspicious, certainly!
And the bonus is
That there is therefore no burden
Of responsibility,
No pedestal for us to fall from.
Other than accepting that,
On the canvas of life,
Every sweep of the brush matters,
Counts for something…
And so it falls to us
To do no more than respond,
To confirm significance.
And this, believe me,
Whatever our gender or strength,
We can all manage
With unique shades of brilliance,
A blooming of our own.
Just as, in perfect symmetry,
The emerging budded plant
Opens wide, toward the sun
And a stiff phallus will forever beg
For its home, for its comfort,
Its release,
Deep into a soft inner refuge
So that it may speak, discharge itself.
Thus, or so it seems,
Does the light need only our trust
And, of course, the darkness
To work its eternal alchemy.
Recent Comments