Monthly Archives: January 2017

Reclaim Ownership

You began in a watery cave of dreams.
A place where you paid no rent.
You were given shelter, nourishment and protection.
As all these gifts were given, you grew from a cell.

Out you came, unknowing.
Without debt, you credited the world with your presence.
You drank the milk of your creator.
You ate when your body was ready.

You wriggled, rolled, crawled then walked.
You ran when your legs gathered speed.
Learning was first mimicked, then taught.
Thinking became realised, then censored.

Rules became laws. Right was not wrong.
You stepped into line, there was a queue.
You followed the crowd, became a pawn.
You believed you were contributing.

You woke up one day, disillusioned.
With all the years of sculpting
YOU REALISE
Society had repossessed your hopes.

You take your awareness to the court.
The Court of Moral Awareness.
You present your case, success is promised.
You tell counsel this:

I began in a watery cave of dreams.
A place where I paid no rent.
I was given shelter, nourishment and protection.
As all these gifts were given, I grew from a cell.

The Judge who presides over Court asks you
‘What are you arguing for?’
You reply, ‘I have come to reclaim ownership.
I have the right to own my thinking.’

On returning from The Chamber of Conscience
The judge straightens his thinking stating
‘I wish more people would come to my court.
The mind is the property of oneself.’

You look the Judge straight in the eye.
The resemblance between you both is uncanny.
You resolve to take full responsibility going forward.
You will never pay dues on your own thinking again.

An Peann

 

The Three Voices

Little Voice, Big Voice and Real Voice lived together inside their human.

Little Voice spoke in faint whispers. She was very wise but her wisdom was shrouded by low self esteem.

Big Voice had no trouble being heard. He mostly talked utter nonsense, yet no body had ever pointed this out. So he just kept talking.

Real Voice prided himself on his sense of accuracy. He said things as they were. He saw things in black and white. This was unfortunate as he missed out on many colourful opportunities.

One day their human began practising the art of silence. Someone told her there was a way she could control her thinking. This concerned the three voices.

Real Voice decided to talk with Big Voice and Little Voice.
They all gave each other a moment to say their piece.

This had never been done before.

Big Voice said ‘you know this is just a passing phase. Another New year, she thinks she can have a new mind. She will never stick it out.’

Real Voice smirked at Big Voice ‘this is not some new diet or passing phase, I sense she actually wants to gain some perspective. Some humans happily drift through life and allow their voices to take over. She’s not like the rest of them. Something has changed.’

Little Voice, brushed her hair away from her mouth and said, ‘maybe she wants to think for herself? Does she not deserve to hear her own true voice in the silence?
We speak over each other, well you two do. I rarely get a chance to be heard.
I’m a cheer leader with Pom Pom’s and a whispering voice. I want to scream at her to just do it. Become a tightrope walker in stilettos if you want. She doesn’t want to join the circus but you get my drift.’

Real Voice smiled at Little Voice and spoke in a forgiving tone. ‘Dreams are for the sleeping Little Voice.’
Big Voice interrupted, ‘well now I’d have to disagree with you there. Not everything is black and white. Dreams are not just for bedtime, they are the foundations of new beginnings, the building blocks on which new lives are made.’
Little voice clapped in delight. ‘That’s the most positive thing I have ever heard you think Big Voice.’
Real Voice sensed an air of difference, he never witnessed Little Voice and Big Voice compliment one another.
Big Voice sounded quieter and Little Voice grew almost taller.

‘I can hear you all’, said their Human. The three voices looked up in the air as though a god had spoken from the heavens.
‘Rumbled I tell you’, said Real Voice
‘We have been rumbled.’
The three voices held hands in fear.

There has been less noise recently, the voices try not speak over each other. Little Voice doesn’t whisper anymore. Big Voice is a better listener and Real Voice is taking a colour therapy class. He wants to brighten his horizons.

An Peann

Happy New Year Readers.
This year listen to your own voice. The one that’s trying to find you. X

 

Where Love Has Lived

A home is not simply a building; it is the shelter around the intimacy of a life. Coming in from the outside world and its rasp of force and usage, you relax and allow yourself to be who you are. The inner walls of a home are threaded with the textures of one’s soul, a subtle weave of presences. If you could see your home through the lens of the soul, you would be surprised at the beauty concealed in the memory your home holds. When you enter some homes, you sense how the memories have seeped to the surface, infusing the aura of the place and deepening the tone of its presence. Where love has lived, a house still holds the warmth. Even the poorest home feels like a nest if love and tenderness dwell there.

John O’Donohue
Excerpt from BEAUTY

 

Under Cavan Skies

On the 360th day of the year with four minutes to midnight we stood under clear Cavan skies.

Every star had a sharpness so bright they could make an atheist bow at their majesty.
You cannot deny what the eyes make you see.

Orion’s Belt was fastened with clarity.
A question mark backwards demanded we ask ourselves the unanswerable.

Above Orion was a red star.
Stars normally don’t impress me, they make me dizzy.

They crowd my thinking, take my breath away, make me feel small and overwhelmed. They frighten me with their boastful eternity.

They will continue to shine long after we are gone.

The Ancient Greeks once thought there was a blanket behind the skies, they believed the blanket was pierced with little holes, in which the light shone through.
Those lights are what we call the stars.

Time teaches us to believe different things.

As we stood under the lights, I listened as he told me what the constellations were called.

I listened because these past few weeks have taught us that although the stars relentlessly shine, those we love can dim their light.

People can walk out the door and never come home again.

Children can be taken before they are given the opportunity to shine.

Who’s heaven decides such fate?

Illness can meet you at unexpected places, leave or take us into his arms and walk away with us.

Walking up the yard toward the house, the blue lights of the suspended Christmas tree on the street outside, brought us back to the falseness of our reality.

Our made up world that we focus so much on, fades in comparison to the Greek blanket hanging in the Cavan sky.

Oh, the beauty and fragility of life.
Understanding that brightness can be found even in the darkest corners, can resurrect our hopes.
There is such power and strength to be found in the darkness of life, for through the darkness is the epitome of life – those everlasting twinkling beacons of night’s light.

If only we could remember to bring those stars into our day’s light.
There may come a time, you need to fight for some light, if you do just remember
that once the Greeks believed in a pierced blanket in the sky.
Anything is possible, if you are willing to see the light.

An Peann

 

A Coat of Vulnerability

I once had the pleasure of hearing Patti Smith perform in London. Only two hundred of us shared a room with her.
I was young and mesmerised.
It was one of those evenings; I banked preciously in my mind.
A night I knew, I wouldn’t forget.

Recently, she was asked to sing at the Nobel Laureate Ceremony, when she was asked to sing the winner hadn’t been announced.
She soon found out Bob Dylan her hero, was the person she would be honouring with song. She decided she would sing Dylan’s ‘A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall.’ A beautifully painful piece.

Hard Rain fell as she sang, the words left her.
Accompanied by a full orchestra in the company of dignitaries and royalty, she had to stop.

‘Sorry, can we start over? I’m so nervous?’

Instead of being another star’s falter, it became poetry in motion. The ultimate illustration of how we can all make mistakes. In a cold world, where people are quick to judge and slow to praise or support each other, Patti wore a Coat of Vulnerability. A delicate outfit worn by a beautiful human being.

Patti a hero of mine, honoured her hero Bob Dylan. Her performance was stunning, more splendid by the stumble.
Sometimes words leave us.
Sometimes people leave us.

We can always find our song again, even when we are nervous.

Mistakes are good, they are the lessons that help us find our way again.

Imagine a world where we could, just start over again?
We live in that world.
Patti wore a coat of Vulnerability, she wore it well.

An Peann

Dedicated to my favourite singer in the world Olivia Luc her lovely husband and beautiful family. They have had their own painful song to struggle through recently, together they have strength and love in their song. Well wishes to you all. Xxx