Friday, 31 August 2012

He is Man


He is man

Sometimes soft
Sometimes hard


Photograph by Photographer Wendy Metcalfe-Morrison

But always a man who walks like a lion
With generosity of Spirit and a fire in his heart.

So many curious parts, that make up the fullness of a man
Beginnings. Middles. Endings.

Intricate
Fascinating
Perplexing
Sometimes Vexing

But he is made in the image of creation
And there is always beauty in his order and in his chaos

He is man





Thursday, 30 August 2012

In Loving Me


Two phrases that have power to shut me down 

Are "One day we will" and "Someday we will".

 Early on, life taught me "One day" and "Someday" 

Rarely, if ever come.
So in loving me
  If you choose to love me

Let us share with each other the gifts and delights of today

And let "One day" and "Someday" 
Be what they shall be.

Sisters of Marrow




We are Sisters of Marrow 

Nourished by connection that goes deeper than blood

Roots entwined in the mainstream of life's origin

 That place, where blood and alliances are formed

Making the passage ...

Richer
Sweeter 
Stronger

Alive

(photo taken by Photographer Wendy Morrison)




Monday, 27 August 2012

Weaving Our Lives Into One Another







Recently while visiting a friend, we happened upon a discussion about symbolism. We marvelled at how the world's cultures naturally were drawn to nature and transubstantiated the imagery found there to symbolize what was happening to them soulfully, spiritually, and culturally.

Take for example braiding: 

Some native peoples believe braiding merges the present with the past and the future, making them one with their ancestors and descendants and therefore they can be quite selective as to whom they allow to braid their hair.

Nordic peoples believed that those who could make good braids held powers that could tame the winds. 
Frigga, the Nordic goddess of love, marriage, and destiny was a sky goddess who sat at her spindle weaving the destiny of Gods and man. She was responsible for weaving the clouds (and therefore for sunshine and rain and the fertility of the crops), and she was also responsible for weaving the fates. 

The Celtic people's knotwork interlace is probably the most recognized kind of celtic art, resembling braided strips that bend and weave amongst themselves. These are believed to represent the interconnection of life and humankind's place within the universe.

This leaves me to contemplate on how we, as family and friends, weave and braid our daily  "physical, mental, emotional and soulful paths" into one another's lives ...

 physically entwining fingers and hands to show just how much we delight in having our loved ones present in our lives ... 


... mentally engaging, merging into and building upon each others thoughts and ideas ...


... emotionally investing in dreams and visions by pulling together and sharing faith, tools and talents ... 


...  Soulfully fusing  words and our actions into prayers and blessings

And how beautiful when we as lovers can allow ourselves to be fully open and vulnerable to one another
In those sacred moments, all our paths converge 
swirling and ravelling

And oneness, ripe and full,  is tasted


Honestly Woman ...

Feeling more desperate than foolish (mind you, not much more) I sat before Madame Zora.

I'd been told by a good friend that this woman was amazing and I ought to see her, but HONEST TO GOD, I was beginning to wonder if it hadn't been just a cruel joke. 

Madame Zora looked like something that had stepped off a gypsy caravan. She was clothed head to toe in black satin and lace. Wild hair that obviously had not spent much time around a comb framed her wizened face. Bright red lips and fingernails seemed to compete for which could best accentuate nicotine stained teeth and fingers.

But the fortune teller's presence was commanding and her piercing gaze left me squirming, feeling unsettled and exposed so I was relieved when her heavily accented voice finally broke the awkward silence.

"So? What brings you here to me?"

I tried to speak but the words wouldn't come...but as it turned out, there was no need.

"It is good to own one's own life...but it comes at a price, no?" Leisurely passed over red lips

A barely audible "Yes." was all I could muster.

Madame Zora's focus went to the milky white globe in front of her and she let out a softly whispered "I see ..." that sent a shudder travelling from the back of my neck, down my spine to rest in my tail bone.

Photograph taken by Photographer Wendy Metcalfe-Morrison

Madame Zora continued.

"It wasn't that long ago that you believed yourself trapped with nothing left to give
But time and tears are wonderful healers and I see a heart that is full and beats strong
How wonderful that you no longer require distractions to masquerade themselves as cures and salvations!"

Elaborately adorned hands jingled their dime store treasures as they swirled above the magickal white orb.

"Of course...

A long red nail tapped the top of the ball

There is baggage
Choosing to extract oneself from covenants
Right or wrong
It is costly 
And will require time, tears and resolution"

Madame Zora sat back in her chair, her blue eyes assessing every last inch of me. 

"In some ways it would be easier for you to go back to the old familiar way of being
As painful as it was, your head and belly know you physically survived it

You don't know that about this new life you are carving out of faith
Very much like playing with smoke and mirrors, No?
However, I don't believe in going back
What one left behind will always be there waiting for them should they return

BUT, there has been a gathering of debt 
And debts must be paid before we are honestly free to move on 

Madame Zora's hands adoringly cupped the white globe 

So, what does your future tell me?

The future holds much promise
But it demands much
That you be honest
Do the work
Pay all debts
Ask for forgiveness, where needed 
(from others and yourself)
And move forward
Being Bravely and Honestly Woman

Smiling softly, Madame Zora leaned in and held her hand out, palm up .

“That will be ten dollars please."


Photograph by Photographer Wendy Metcalfe-Morrison



O Lovely Spring


At 5 am, I step out my door
To be greeted by the warm rains of spring
Fingers of  wind caress my skin
Thirsting body and soul, drink deeply



O Lovely Spring!
How we have longed for your glorious resurrection
The willows dance and whisper 
The backyard Murder and I, eavesdrop on hushed secrets



"She's coming." the willows sway
Our eyes scan the skyline, alert for signs


O Lovely Spring!
How we have longed for your glorious return
The heady scent of you fills the air
The cadency of blood's flow quickens
We quiver in anticipation
For the warm touch that loosens winter's grasp

O Lovely Spring!
How we have longed for your glorious resurrection

Sunday, 26 August 2012

A Measure of Comfort

The drip was constant, a metronome measuring out time.
Bleary eyed, spirit bruised from another all-night argument 
She had sought solace in the forest and the rain. 


Perched on a rock, surrounded by the dichotomy of nature - Stability and chaos 
Indiscriminate raindrops creating the rhythmic beading of water
She reflected upon her own duality

The steady beat of water had etched a small rivulet 
Upon which a poplar seed was now travelling
On a journey to create new life in a barren place.

She wondered if all "constants" do the same
Create paths that can be used for the good

The thought brought with it a measure of comfort.