Caroline Carey Writings, Prose & Poetry

Awaken The Voice

The lone wolf standing,

calling to the moon,

offering her howl to the heavens,

she knows what it means to offer her voice,

into the void for all who wish to hear.

Awakening the precious undertones of nature

 as cells drink in the night felt dewy sensations of fear,

mixed with undoubtedly sure-footed primal instinct

 of feet on the ground,

 furred body and mouth of saliva,

 calling to that ‘she moon’ that looks down

on our own territory of flesh and bone.

She who does not leave us,

will always mother us

and allow those fluid waters and rich blood

to flow through our bodies.

The feminine being and her own fire,

will she decide to no longer be that same lone-wolf?

And will she now take courage to pull her clan around her,

 to find new ways of communication,

 new ways to offer her medicine,

will she let go of that rivaled and unconscious competition or envy?

No longer a threat to her carefully nurtured and blended medicine,

mixed in her own cauldron,

so carefully steeped with her own wisdom.

So her howl becomes the howl of many others

and the wisdom becomes the wisdom of all our hearts

 and the cauldron expands and spills

 into the medicine bags of all those who will dare to carry them,

as the medicines power pulls us closer to the earth

and the mothers voice reaches in

and joins those forces together.

Blending her own mix of careful ingredients

that only she knows the recipe for.

And together we come,

knowing it is right and timely to do so.

To share what is dear to us,

to share our own fire,

our own creative juice.

Where do we come from?

 It does not matter,

we have been called into a web that is woven

with magic and sensuality,

woven with blessings of the wider web of mystery

and belonging.

Woven with the threads of many dreams

and dreamt into being.

We become that one web,

we become that one fire,

we become that one juicy bowl of medicine

filled with the ripeness of all we are.

And the fire grows and sparkles and

sends its light amongst many other dancers

and medicine ways.

A new model and map for conforming

old stereotypical patterns that no longer

serve us,

no longer fit in today’s hunt for the resurgence of the feminine,

the awakening of the mother and the wisdom

of ages that was put aside.

Hidden in the depths of our bellies,

 forced to shut up,

sit down,

hide our face,

our medicine,

our power,

our voice!

Let us dance and sing together,

let us pray and stomp our feet together,

let us speak out and share our stories together.

Let us sit in the quiet silence together

as witness to the fire

 and all it is illuminating,

 so that its dance is no longer

one of unconscious competition and anger

of the masculine matrix of domination.

Let us sit in a circle together.

SHE has a Voice  © MyVoice Publishing

Hear it spoken….

‘Falling in love with oneself’

A conceited narcissistic action…..

….sometimes told, or others might think!

For falling in love with your self

holds dis-ease in the world of the grudge,

And fall in love with oneself

we prepare to face with our judge

Loving the life that you live,

will others condemn your taste?

Love what you wear on your skin

Is that where the critic looks in?

Fall in love with your dance

Your movement and all that you are

And for sure in the depths of its pain

it will keep a good distance apart

Decide your unique in your world

And love all the mirrors you see,

Offer your hand to assist

So some can receive your kind touch

Offer your self and your joy,

Your passion and wonder at life

Notice the edges you touch

when it cant meet through its strife.

Notice the ones who reach out

And ask for some honest advice

See those who want to make change

And effect a new way of life

Reach out the love from your heart

Even to those you make hate.

Tell it for all that it is

That your secret is not what it seems

Show them the wounds in your heart

And all that you work to achieve

Tell them it wasn’t all ease

To fall in love with this one

But you know if you are to be real

Its the only journey to take

And offer with all of your soul

The love from your inner most self

Out to the world of who can’t

receive this magical wealth,

Trust in your own precious heart

And the love that you feel for life

A knowing that rest well assured

Is the reason for being alive

The judge may want to get stronger

As you persevere with your task

That voice becoming much louder

with faces that scowl in the dark

Curtains that twitch in the distance

And back stabbing ruder remarks,

gossiping under the covers

Where its mouth becomes part of the mask

But you know your on the right journey

And though often it breaks your heart

And you feel the pain of the critic

And close down  part of your craft

The journey to over come

and to rightfully gain your love

Give nowt to the critic within

Send it firmly back to the past

Stand in the mirror of love

And accept the beauty in you

Nothing to gain from self hatred

Its time for a different view

A Love Letter To the Earth

How wonderful it is to be so close to you, as I lay in your warm grasses feeling the delicacy of each blade and the softness of your touch as my fingers pass through each delicate strand. The pulse of your beating rhythm meeting my own heart and as I listen deeply our songs begin to entwine. I feel you calling me to come ever closer to share our bodies to touch the sensuality of mingling dances. As my toes and fingers find their way into your flesh, as I explore the rocks and stones and craggy places my bones meet your bones we become one together.

I know I am made from you and we are one together, the story of my life meeting the story of yours. As I feed you with my love and with my deepest affections I know too that you feed my soul and my very being with nourishment. This garden, this spirit world, these rose buds and waterfalls reminding me of the sweetest promises that I will make to you time and time again, that I am here for you just as you are here for me, to share the poetry and the pleasures, simply, being united in our love.

I touch your moss, your heather, your ivy clad tree trunks, I touch blossom and even your thistles and thorns, reminding me of all these places that are mine, also remembering my whole being, myself and all that can and will return into your darkness, my dismemberment is your compost ready to be born again as the sweet rays of sunlight warm our body’s as we reach again for heavenly skies, enchanted by the creatures big and small who stir our minds with dreaming. Here I am with you, guide me, love me, as a mother loves her child.

‘SHE has a Voice’  MyVoice Publishing 2013

Many years ago I followed a shamanic training, studying the traditions and tools that it offered. I was curious and totally involved in what it had to share with me. It gave me new tools to explore and much of it confirmed what I already knew and loved and gave me the clarity and confirmation of  experiences that I had already received through my life, from a very early age. My Grandmother always used to say ‘I was different’ and maybe I was because I was so much a dreamer, so much a nature spirit, loving my animals and some of the things that they were all not so interested in, or maybe it was because my Grandmother did not know what was going on in the shadows of the family home!  A wound so deep they could not even contemplate its existence, and I for one was not able to speak of it!
Who knows how and why that ‘difference’ was being created for sure?
But during my shamanic training I began to understand the need to create my own ‘hollow bone’ partly because of my own wounding but also in order to do the work that I felt was necessary.
It so happened that along side my shamanic training I took on the teachings of another group. One called ‘Cellular Shift’. Now two running side by side was not an easy task, especially as they were not in the country I lived in! However it felt so necessary to do them both. In one of was learning the traditions of the shamanic world and in the other I was being with my own story, my own heart and my own life’s journey.
They were mingling together and becoming one. What I gained in one training I used in another, what I experienced in one, I was able to use to support me in the other. I knew that for me one way would not work without the other. My heart was part of my shamanic world and when danced with in the deep muscle of my body, those tools I was gathering came alive, began to speak to me, began to find their own way in the world of poetry and presence, spirit and ego, soul and the ever-expanding rituals within the natural world.

If we are stepping along the shamanic path, we will have come across the wisdom of becoming like a ‘hollow bone’
The Shamanic path can sometimes be complex and can also attract very wounded beings and life stories. Some may see the path as a way to further dissociate from the body and live in the world of the spiritual, some may find it to be a materialistic wonderland of rattles, drums and objects and of course some of this is a very important part of what we do. But it is not all it is, for we as human indigenous beings on this planet carry with us a life time of stories that challenge us and make us who we are.
My belief is that the only way we can truly become that ‘hollow bone’ is to combine our own personal development work with our shamanic practice.

Becoming the ‘hollow bone’ demands that we address our own issues with life. That we learn to embrace the possibility of an open heart, thus we embrace pain as our healer.
We embrace challenge as a route to true growth, we allow our tears to wash away what is old and no longer serves. We accept the need to be vulnerable as well as powerful
so we can look the other in the eye and say ‘I see your wounded heart’ without judgement, criticism or analyzing, when we can literally look and see – there is a great  teacher in our midst – the one of a ‘open heart!’
When we can be with the truth of what really matters we can accept
spirit into our lives, to move through us, knowing what is ego and what is not.

Our masculine brings us to the place of wanting change and transformation, it takes us on journeys across lands, to meet with our teachers and friends, it takes us through stations and airports, putting us in the right place at the right moment. It takes us to our desired working place and puts in front of us the tools we need. It can then hold the space for the soul to dance through us in safety and with clarity for the journey ahead, it holds a space of safety for the more feminine soul parts to sing and dance and speak poetry and song, always from the heart with the support of our spirit allies and guides.

Calling in to us our spirit allies becomes a prayer that we know in our own heart, not a mechanical way of ‘doing something the right way’ or a way that others have told us to do.
Nature will teach us if we are willing to look into her eyes and receive those teachings.
When we can create our own ‘hollow bone’ we make space for that soul energy to emerge, to move with spirit with nothing ‘getting in the way’ of our free dance.

 “We are called to become hollow bones for our people, and anyone else we can help. We are not supposed to seek power for our personal use and honor. What we bones really become is the pipeline that connects Wakan Tanka, the helpers and the community together.” Frank Fools Crow

We live more complex lives, unlike our ancestors when life was very much about survival and simplicity, which is still seen in the native and indigenous lands.
We have more wounds to heal, there are more complications in relationships and all the hurt and sorrow that goes with them. Competition, envy, the need to even make a living and pay our bills, puts us in a vulnerable place. There is a lot of work to be done on many levels, but now we have more tools available to us in the therapeutic world than ever before. Taking deep journeys with these tools, not flitting through hundreds of different ones, but sticking with the one’s we know to challenge us and get results from, can help us to create our own hollow bone.

We are challenged to work more deeply, to deal with our own stories and to learn to help others from a place of deep wisdom, connectedness and soul. A place of heart, of wisdom and of compassion for our fellow-man.
To become a ‘hollow bone’ these days we need to embrace change, we need to know when the time is right to step away from ego and know the difference, we need to teach and guide from a place of heart. In order to truly invite spirit in we need to do our own soul work and listen, listen to what’s needed from us, listen to all we are hearing. We can only lead if we are willing to follow, for leadership now is not about saying what needs doing, it is about following the needs in front of us.

Hollowing out our own bone is not as easy as it may sound. It can take a life time of work, and it never ends until the day we die. But we can take courage and step onto that path if we truly desire it, making sure we have the support necessary, both from our human guides and teachers, as well as our spirit guides and helpers.

When the true tests emerge….how will we choose to face them?

I remember the first time a color telly came into our family home. I can see the proud look on my mothers face as it sat in its wooden box on the pale carpet next to the pink three piece  suite, the long curtains hanging behind it and the white rug on the floor that we loved to sit on in front of the fire. It was always at 4pm when we got in from school and had a cup of tea and biscuit and we were allowed to watch Blue Peter. My mother was strict about what we watched.

I don’t remember being hugely interested in the telly and maybe that was because of the restrictions, but it was always quite a treat when my mother called me in to watch something that she thought would be really good for me to watch, usually a nature program or something to do with animals. Once she even got me out of bed to watch a film about monkeys. I was a bit afraid I remember because we were not allowed out of bed once night had fallen. So it was a bit confusing!

Still my love of the outdoors, my pets and the garden were much more thrilling and as my own children grew up we had very little television apart from a video machine so they could watch their favorites on wet days. As they became teenagers of course it became more necessary to have one it seemed, but I never became attracted to it and could not sit long enough in front of the screen to get really absorbed in anything.

So it seemed somewhat strange that I had the desire in me to create any sort of film but I did! In fact every partner I had I bought a camera for! I had little cameras myself but clearly hoped for a camera man in my life.

Then in 2008 I met my beloved the wonderful Ben Cole, cinematographer supreme, with an amazing eye for capturing film footage. I wanted my own film, to spread my own messages this way, to be visual and artistic and include sounds from nature. I wanted to present my work to the world in a way that was not just through words. This passion grew in me. And then I met Ben and knew he had the means to create this for me and with me.

So we do. But in the beginning I realised one thing I had to do was make the effort to do this myself and not depend on my partner and his skills. I had to have a go at it at least.

So I did. One of my first little efforts became a reality. I was determined and with the help of a few friends I managed to create one of my first little films, on a very small home video camera, no sound equipment, no lighting, no clapper board or crew. I edited it myself on my laptop over a few evenings of trying to keep focused and sit for long enough to find a completion. It was raw simple and not professional. But it was my little film and told a tale of connection to nature, in its simplest form.  Now that Ben and I make other films and I’ve learn’t a lot from him and witnessed just how much goes into this process, I cant help but feel a little proud of the nerve I had to make something in this way and put it out there. I’m not sure which touches me more, the message in the film or my first attempts 🙂

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NdRT8pRpc-Y

What’s it like? To know your child has been taken over by a drug, by alcohol, by anything at all that claims a part of their life and makes it their own. The spirit that lives through them, that takes control and takes them on a journey ‘out to sea’ gradually bit by bit, the shore getting further away. And even though they feel that they could ‘swim’ back any time, the reality is that the further they swim out to those depths, before any one realised it could possibly happen to them, they are out of their depths and there is no turning back.

It has them in its grip, no longer treading waters with the hope of one day just swimming to those shores and landing back on their feet, ready to take their life in their hands. They are dancing with the spirit of addiction out in the ocean, out in the depths and addiction has won!

‘The spirit of addiction’

a human curse,

bestowed on this planet with a kindly stare

that says all we need to do is want,

it forges its way in our homes

and our hearts,

with promises already broken,

it longs for us to give out our hand

to take it on board,

money, substance,

any thing goes

so long as we keep wanting

and wanting

and wanting

addicted to the very soul of dysfunction

for when it has us in its grip it knows we will not rest

we will strive to fulfil that appetite

strangely not understanding

it will never fill that hole

we feel

it will never satisfy

what is really missing

from our bellies

so plough up the earth

take all for your need

drink yourself stupid jack up that sleeve

the spirit will haunt you

it knows your greatest weakness

is to IT,

to IT,

its own part of you

that you have become

that IT now owns

no longer yourself

your in its control

its won the battle to possess your soul

so give your self to it

let it win its next goal

and give in to life and the spirit you hold

turn over the dust-can and pour out its worth

and know there is nothing but you and its curse.

And parents pray that one day, something will happen, anything, to just make them see how futile it is and how lost they are! But who wants to hear that from their parents?

The voice that says “just one more” is so much stronger, because it can avoid the shame, the guilt, the disappointment, the possibility of failure. It can fill an emptiness that nothing else quite seems to reach, the emptiness that needs to be numb! Maybe even thinking its so much more fun!

So it keeps our dear ones out in the ocean, avoiding facing the work that really needs to be done. Mothers and fathers watch from the distance, sometimes trying to rescue, sometimes trying to give words of wisdom, sometimes going to groups and learning ‘how not to help’.

‘You can put a blanket over them to keep them warm, but do not carry them upstairs to bed.’

For years parents care for their children, hoping they are doing the right thing, trying to get it right for them. Often not quite saying or doing the right thing, but learning, hopefully, setting boundaries, giving information and trying to steer them along the path.

But also ‘not’ learning at all sometimes and making the same mistakes over and over. Many parents not even being there for their children at all, how then do they fill that empty hole?

Some of the worst dysfunctional families bare the strongest and most successful of children, and some of the most successful and nurturing of families bare the worst addicts, or dysfunctional children! Of course it depends on how we view success, for me it is a sense of their own worth, knowing their soul purpose, good communication skills and healthy relationship to others with integrity and with an idea of who they really are.

There is no knowing how our children are going to turn out. We cannot know, as we watch them through the years changing from babies to toddlers, taking their first steps, going to school, becoming teenagers, all we can do is love them for who they are and hope or pray that they will be happy.

When they don’t or are not happy and turn to substance to fill their holes, their emptiness, or their loss, we often wonder what we did wrong.

Parents can accept that maybe they did nothing wrong, or could have done better, or differently. They may simply blame their young adolescent with disdain for ‘showing up’ the family.

They may have agreed that it is the others journey and nothing to do with them at the end of the day.

But a mothers or fathers guilt is not so easily remedied!

They can be kidded continually into believing all is ok, they can be hoodwinked and told to turn a blind eye, until they cannot believe it any more and fully face the challenge in themselves, to look at themselves and ask what its all about ‘what did we do, or not do as parents?’

I recognise the need for support for parents, on a deep level, like a really deep level! To face the possibility of having made mistakes. To hear from others how they too got it wrong, to grieve the lack of knowledge they never had from their own parents. How to deal with the thoughts like..”is he or she killing themselves / wasting their life?” Or even “how am I going to cope with the funeral when it comes!!?”

And then once their own stories are told they can support each other and explore their anger and frustration; anger at the system, the manufacturers of alcohol and drugs, the sadness at seeing their loved ones taken over in this way, fully facing their own responsibility in the creation of this problem. Have we said we are sorry to our children, have we done what needs to be done on our side to fill that empty hole?

Once parents have done their own work and only then, can we speak out and say to the governments and the manufacturers who make profit from our young people’s naivety, saying ‘Its not ok! What the hell do you think you are doing?’ Wake up, it is our future and all our children’s future you are playing with’

When the love of my boy takes me

to the deepest darkest places of my very soul and being.

When the turmoil strikes my belly in my

heart and I can no longer see straight ahead

or remotely into the distance.

When all thoughts stop and the gut wrenching pain

becomes my food, my breath, my yearning for peace.

When all else has fallen away and I am left

with nothing to cling to but a quiet phone

that I long to ring.

A screen with a sweet face of a man

I no longer know

I’ve never lived in a city before, until I came to one this year. I am so shocked to see how much alcohol and drug abuse there is on the streets.

There is no point telling our kids off and making it hard for them, they need easy to get to rehabilitation areas, to have communication groups more at hand, information leaflets handed out to them. And again manufacturers need to get wise, compassionate and more educated about what they are actually creating.

Parents do not need to hide their own stories away. We cannot fully know if any one is to blame, but those that feed on the dysfunctions of the innocent, preying on the holes they are unable to fill themselves, pouring in those liquors and drugs, to top up their own bank balances feels to me to be a criminal act.

Something needs to change, more education, more open and real stories shared amongst communities, more possibilities for the youth that prevent the  need for substance abuse, we need stricter laws that prevent clubs, pubs and shops supplying to our youngsters.

I am very angry with the manufacturers of alcohol, for their lack of responsibility towards our young people or even the older amongst us, but its the teenagers who are so easily influenced that I concern myself with. Its so easy to go to a club with a small amount of money and be given umpteen poisonous drinks that they swill down like lemonade. In fact it is encouraged! There is no real education in schools on the real impact of it all in their lives. Simply telling them not to do it is useless. Teenagers are natural rebels, they have to be, it helps them move away from the family restrictions, to set up in the world by themselves, to create their own rite of passage if no one else is there to do it for them.

So who needs to go and talk to the teenagers about the possible harm that can occur through too much drink or drugs. Well I believe no one but those who have experienced it for themselves, those who have been out to the ocean and danced with the spirit of addiction, those who have been involved in the ship wreck of their lives and have made that small raft and paddled back to shore, those who made the decision not to die, but to make something of their lives.

Those who are willing to tell how it was, to share the pain and the ugliness of what they had been through.

I hope to hear stories like this from one of my own children, if he has the courage to stand in front of teenagers and say, ‘this is who I was, but I decided to live, to make something of my life.’ To really tell it how it is and face the demons in himself that call to the spirit of addiction to fill its hole.

To share those stories with others …..  but mostly at first to do it for himself, not for me or any one else. But simply for his own precious life because he choices it.

Yes, I am the mother of an addict. I know how it feels, its hard to own it, but I am, because it is not something I wish to hide. It sits at the deepest part of my soul, the pain, the turmoil, the confusion and all the questions I have asked, including the one of ‘what did I do wrong?’

For now I can only look at my own story, my own heart and what this affliction does to me and my family and also to let the world know my own thoughts and feelings on this subject. I know what the young teenage mum didn’t get right, I know how she failed and I’ve said I am sorry countless times. If I could change anything in my life I would do my best to change this story.

But I’m also the mother of an amazing being. What is dysfunctional is only one truth and one layer of who I know he really is. Underneath that dysfunction is a soul with a beautiful heart, deep wisdom, a song to sing and a talent that is extraordinary.

This is the truth I mostly believe in.

Can we see through the masks of our own illusion?

Are we willing to look?

Chances are we will see what we may not want to see,

it may be we see

what we fear the most.

But in time we will grow used to seeing

the reflection of our own innocent vulnerable

selves on this planet.

The masks will drop away and the real

human will emerge.

And dropping away that mask of pretence,

to be ‘some one’ in the world might

just give us the answer we need.

To return once more to our own innocence

might just be the saving grace of this planet,

these elements, this animal kingdom.

What incredible deeds we may do

for the sake of wearing an ill-fitting mask

that no longer serves the kind of people

we are growing into.

The true love a child feels for an animal

would ban those cruel and heartless,

meat curing, factory farms to non-existence

and each tender embrace of each animal

would be included in our prayers for humanity.

And we will care so deeply for the earth

because it is a mirror of our own tenderness

and our need to nourish ourselves

and her,

a place for sanctuary,

not gain. 

We will honor the fire because it mirrors

the destructive energy we all hold inside 

ourselves that we need to use sometimes

with care and respect.

We will not dare to pollute the air and the winds

for fear it will contaminate our own lungs

and reflect back the damage we can 

cause to the atmosphere that we are creating.

The waters of life would be purified as we cleanse

our own bodies, 

thus never would one item of plastic,

non recyclable waste toxic accumulation

be discarded upon any beach or river bank,

lest we suffocate like a fish, a bird,

wrapping itself within threads of disused useless rubbish.

No loss of dignity,

no loss of power,

because power is itself,

the being who truly can adopt their vulnerability, 

knowing it to be one of their greatest strengths.

Letting that mask fall and revealing

the true identity of the human race

takes one movement,

a deep surrender to their own story,

to their own heart ache,

to the love they once felt for themselves.

Their own true nature.

THE true nature.