Elements

Tiredness, though it feels like an unwelcome visitor at times, takes me on a disciplined journey into some of the darkest recesses of my mind and my body. Sometimes wanting to fight away its grip and unpleasantness, still it feels a necessary dream that wants to be dreamt. And as I sink further into that dream I can see the images and pictures that become fruitful and inspiring, urging me to move with them, merging with the softness as well as the ferocity of elemental forces that they carry.

Letting go, letting go, there is no need any more to hold on to familiarity but allow my boat to rock into the waves, journey down the river and allow it to take me further and further into the mists, as water meeting air creates a dense fog that I am unable to see through. There is no knowing what is on the other side or even if there is another side, another gateway or what, if anything, is beyond this illusion that encircles me. Maybe a dream of what lies ahead is all it would take to plant my feet firmly into fertile soil. If I could trust that dream fully like a laborer trusts his tools, when he takes good care of them. I too can trust my own tools, my own medicine to grow into the light, into being, to expand that dream fully even when I am unsure what it really is. How can I know if I do not ask, how can I know if I do not communicate fully, if I do not allow the dancer to ride the currents along with the rocking boat, along the river and streams of life, sending it into the misty depths of the ocean, to meet with the life forces that grow there?

The ocean, so vast, so universal, such a wide, expansive energy! I fear it and respect it, learning to tread carefully and allow one touch after another, through flesh and each of my limbs and every movement of the dancer. My own dancer, the one who knows all I need to know and remember in any one dance – the one who knows, that there is no need to ask another or to seek advice from willing minds who would like to fix or make right for me. The dancer knows that to truly empower myself I need to go within and to ask from that deeply personal place, where here resides my ancestors, where here lies the gifts of spirit , where here is where I can stand, tall and strong, offering my gifts from the center of my being – the essence of my soul. The wisdom of this dancer IS the mighty ocean, is all that I love and all that I fear. These things come from no other place and the more I remember this then the less I will separate myself from what is the truth.

Here now, here within, mirroring the darkest nights and the lightest beings, there is no teaching to be had elsewhere. Trusting the tired stories that they may guide me on that journey to seek ever deeper into the hearth of my own fire, the belly of my own ocean and the mothering of my own earth as it breathes in the winds of change, cleansing my life of unnecessary burdens and clearing my own path and valleys for more creativity. Following the dancer – flowing on the breath of time, listening to the dreamer and trusting there is no other way to be.

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Moderate Changes

It is a turning point in time. As a woman I know exactly what this means yet it is so unfamiliar to me. Everything changes, yet I am still exactly the same, well yes there are moderate changes. Moderate! Was that an exclamation mark I added, hoping it was not noticed? Yes moderate is a word I use lightly but maybe rather hopefully. I acknowledge my own moderate changes, it’s not such a big deal. Is it? So what – I only JUST turned 50 or was that nearly two years ago, so it was only close to nearly.

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Every one tells me it is absolutely ok and I look as wonderful as ever, even more so sometimes. I tell them laughing ‘Oh its an aging thing, I always looked forward to being 50’ Well that was last year, I forgot to even think about 51 and 52 and 53. I never quite got to the point of decent, return, dryness, ruffled skin and achy bones. I’m dancing I am still dancing, wildly passionately, I know it will never stop within me and around me. The dance goes on, I never cared what I looked like, I never performed as such.

“She’ll be dancing in her grave, that one!” I hear them say.  Maybe so, I certainly hope so and I begin to welcome the changes that nature has decided I must make, just to see if I can prove them right! There were moments of course when I believed I would always be the same, that I could not age because like so much of the timelessness in my work, it would fail to show itself. Then I woke one morning and spotted a different skin, just below the hem line, as I moved my hand across it, I noticed how unfamiliar it was. Why had I not noticed it before, did it appear over night? I didn’t really want to tell any one incase they thought I was becoming ugly and I would not feel loved as before. So I watched over those months by myself, feeling actually quite lonely about what I was witnessing. I wondered what it would be like to really share that with another. So many

groups where we explore the changes in our lives. But could I ever show some one the change in my skin, my tone and the way my body was held together. Could I ask another to explore it with me and ask for their opinions or even ask them when they very first noticed it in themselves and what it felt like? Could we laugh and compare notes from week to week, sharing the drinking of tea and how disgraceful we could be once we were ‘really’ old!

So much of nature changes around me, from day-to-day, from little saplings to mighty oaks and trees of the forest. Leaves beginning with tiny nobles on branches and twigs to expanding themselves fully, meeting with the day light and all together they share in the community of the hedgerow. And then one by one they wrinkle and fall, blown by the wind and landing alone to finish their journey under a sweeping broom or blown some distance yonder into a corner of the garden to rot and disappear while new shoots take their place.

So I want to laugh at life and at the need to feel that it’s all just moderate. Actually its a really BIG deal and If I am allowed by my society to say ‘this really will happen to all of us and can we start to celebrate it a little more rather than hide it shamefully away behind glossy images of nubile flesh and sweet petticoats.’  I would like to see beautiful images plastered around me, reminding me that this is a good time to be in the world and not told to cover it with something designed by a pharmaceutical company who says ‘better moderate how you look now because this is a young generation.’

I find I want to speak openly and say ‘hey, look it is changing fast, if you don’t look now you may miss this extraordinary exhibition of life and nature changing,’ I want to ask others, ‘what is happening to you and how does that feel?’ I want us to share our wisdom and stories, pass them on to our daughters and softly cry the tears together of loss.

When I learnt I could not play the part I was once passionate about, I knew I had to accept. I knew I had to step into another role. I wanted to greet this role open heartedly and it meant leaving others behind for a while, because they would not see me in that new place and really know who I was becoming. They would want me to remain the same and I could not. So as many tribe women have done and still do, I became a little reclusive from my own clan, keeping my dreams to myself, living in that small micro world of womb and darkness. Soon I would emerge with fresh knowledge and wisdom and I would know more about the strange theatre of life that has taken part inside me.

So now in natures arms I am told ‘this is the time, your time, to take the attention away from familiarity of all those years and to plant it now in a new earth, ready to share in the light of the new beginning. A greyness is now quite welcome, I applaud to natures remedies to turn me inward to meet with myself. I welcome the moments that show me a deeper connection to the mystery and the ways she forces me to see every part of every dysfunction that I carry. There is little need for any moderation in this cocoon of fire and transmutation, except wine and sugar and that, in my life, is moderate enough.

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The Woman’s Medicine Song

The Woman’s Medicine Song

I cannot share my medicine with people in power

She cannot share her medicine with people in power

The woman she is burning in the deathly fire

I can hear her screaming

When nothing else is heard

But the smoke that is rising

Is the call for new birth

So she beckons to her sisters holding out her hand

Asking for forgiveness for shaming the land

 

The voice it is broken

Scarred beyond belief

But the mending is beginning as the soul begins to speak

Words of pure wisdom from the belly of the earth

And the fire reaches higher as the waters cleanse her heart

And sisters are united as the medicine is heard

 

And the mists begin to clear with the sunlight of dawn

So she will share her medicine with people in power

We will share our medicine with people in power

Her heart is burning brightly

Her passion running wild

The dream has awoken and is spreading through the land

The voice no longer broken but a strong and powerful sound

 

People in power will hear her medicine

People in power will share her medicine

 

Long Dance 2011

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My next book awakening……

There is a huge awakening in the world. A new intelligence is forming from the chaos we have created. We can no longer live as a ‘what about me’ society. There is work to be done on many different levels. We need courage and integrity to do the personal healing work necessary for us to be healthy, strong and empowered. Our relationships to others need honest communication and compassion. We can then surrender the ‘self’ and offer to our environment, communities and societies the service that is required in a deeply spiritual and practical way. 

 We cannot ignore the deep wounding and suffering that our personalities carry, affecting our relationships.  We can no longer leave out the intelligence of our heart within business. Our own bodies can no longer be a mechanism for supporting and carrying around a mind that is focused on wealth, personal pleasure and achievements. The body has much greater function than that and needs to run efficiently to its fullest potential. It needs to move with focus giving attention to what really matters in the moment.

 The attitudes that spirituality brings will create better work places, home lives, school and education systems. It will mean we have to pay more attention to the earth that supports us, thus creating a deeper connection to the elemental forces around us. The ‘human soul’ that has been largely ignored in our society will be the part of us that sustains us through the inevitable challenges that are yet to come. Without learning to make those connections, we will lose unbelievably. If we do the necessary work now, there is great hope for the children who follow us. The way forward for the collective is to make discoveries into the innate wisdom and intelligence that is the new consciousness of our times.

 I started writing this book in the week that my first book, Ms’Guided Angel was to be published.  I was excited that finally my story was to be shared with the world, that I had become the author I had intended since childhood, yet I am on tenterhooks. What effect will my writing and personal story have on others? The family, the friends.

As an abused child I was told to ‘keep the secret’ never to tell.

This is often the case for children, bewildered by the attention given to them by others, the ghastly things they are made to do, the way their bodies are touched, the way they are made to feel. My Grandfather used to say ‘this is our special secret’ putting his finger to his lips ‘sshhh’ he would say. Well who would believe me anyway. And so it goes on, the feeling of needing to keep a secret, that I would not be believed. So sending my book, my story, into the world gave a sour taste as well as an excited feeling of the final freedom of my voice. Interestingly I was taken on by ‘MyVoice’ publishing.

So my book Ms’Guided Angel had launched herself in to the world and I had to let her fly. My life being read by many. It was some what daunting but when the feedback began to come in I was unbelievably touched. It took me a long while for it to really sink in. This little book about my life was really moving people. I had unleashed some very dark family secrets in to the open. But I knew that this was necessary for true growth to happen.

And as this book went out into the world I began the second one. A continuum of life story, of explorations into the human, my human, knowing that my own story is connected to the stories of so many others, that we have the same patterns, the same beliefs and woundings that need to be addressed. If I can speak out then collectivly we all can. And if I can open the gateway to my life, to my soul, then I hope to encourage others to speak out their truth and explore a little of there lives and find a way that we can heal this collective conciousness. 

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How do I work with men?

It started by being very curious. I am curious about men. I’ve three adult sons and I’ve had three previous marriages that have been rather dysfunctional. Now I find myself in a relationship with  great guy who communicates with me!

When I began a weekend workshop with him that was just for guys, I have to admit I was a little nervous. One of the main feelings I had been that they may not want to take me seriously. Where did that come from I wondered?

One reality I know is that I often have a goal in my work to really draw something out of people. Some times that can make me a bit confrontational and maybe the men in my life have disliked that in me. But I can be a bit like a ‘dog with a bone’ I wont give up until I have it. The ‘it’ for me is the gold, the gold that I see as the emergence of the soul from behind any mask or pretense of being something that the person is not. Of course we all have a pretender, it is one of the ways we grow. As children we pretended to be and imitated our peers and elders in order to discover ourselves. But when this pretense is burying our emotions, then we can start to wear a mask that does not fit so well.

You could question as to if I have been very masked myself?  I do not doubt for one minute that I have been and have been blind to it in many different ways, there are still some parts ready to unfold and show themselves. It is only in the taking risks and stepping closer to that cliff edge that will make me find them. Maybe by knowing some of it and exploring it, I have come to recognize what it is and some of the energy it takes to keep it in place. That energy can be exhausting, as the psyche holds on to the very thing that blocks me from speaking out, from finding its true form and freedom. When I witness that energy in myself and others, it reminds me where I have spent some of my time and what I needed myself to see beyond and let go of.

So my own nervousness could possibly lie with wondering if I can get away with trying to look deeper beneath those masks in what could potentially be some scary characters. Maybe Im afraid of seeing myself! It does not mean I don’t want to. What do I know?

But back to working with the guys and what I have been learning from them. I witness in our work that when I give some guidance in an exercise, the men will respond in ways, that after working with women, I do not expect. I can be taken aback by this, not always sure where to go next, but if I follow what ever happens and allow it to simply unfold, then it shows me so much more than if I tried to control it and bring it back to the feminine dance that I am familiar with. Being more literal is a key here, women will interpret what I am saying and form their own dance from it, whereas men will take it literally as I say it and do just that. I love the humor that goes with all of this.

And then we work with trust. I know that in order for me to really trust a man I need him to be very real and honest with me. This is in my relationship as well as work and friendships. If I detect any game playing then I am suspicious. I don’t want to run away from this, I want to discover what is underneath it. As a woman in male company I can sometimes forget that men operate very differently to women, I can find it difficult to understand the ways in which men open up, they have less emotional vocabulary and expression than women, making them harder to read. I know where I stand with women but not always so with men. It is a journey I wish to learn more about.

But in doing that, I have to understand those differences and that ‘other’ language. I believe that this is what I need to learn before I work on deeper levels with men. I have learned the hard way, what it is to open up a man’s anger, particularly his anger towards the feminine. I have learned the hard way that if he is not ready to show it to me then it can have rather disastrous effects if I prod and poke him too much. Yet to really see a mans anger, rather than have it hidden from me is a huge relief. I don’t want to feel his anger directed at me but I do want to see it, I want to know it, because once I know it, then I know him at one of his raw primal levels, I know what he will do if I demand more from him. I cannot always know it at its absolute fullness but once I know he is willing to share some of that with me, then I know he is not afraid of shocking me or making me run for the hills.

Once I know some of this anger then I believe that the primal fear he carries will begin to have its voice, it is in that moment I find we relax more and communicate from a more balanced place between us. The soul begins to emerge and the connection we find, not just between the two of us but within the whole group and the space around us softens and energy flows more easily.

The guys who express very little or the passive aggressor, for want of a better way to describe who I mean here, tend to make me feel very uncomfortable, often I want to strip bare the polite, anxious to please, weakened smile in order to be told the truth about how he really feels. He may cut me to the core and draw tears, but I am better off knowing his truth than finding out later it was all just a con! I find myself wanting to  draw on my Kali of the night, the bringer of death to trample that being until it cannot bare its own ‘niceness’ and reveals to me those fangs, those claws and that stale breath that rids this body of putrid past stories. I doubt I will ever trust the ‘nice guy’ who cannot be real with me in every moment. I will search his cupboards and drawers, I will look under his bed, into his pockets and behind his curtains for some glimpse of a cobweb, a dirty sock, a book of lies and filth that rocks my bones and shakes my heart. But any one who wears that mask of niceness or glosses over his passive sword, is going to pull out my suspicion and lack of trust.

Sometimes I think that that is what some men think we women want and need. It’s a mistake and can lead to all kinds of trouble. Women are naturally very curious, they want to know everything. Tell me if I am wrong girls, is it just me? But how many of us are rooters, snuffling in the grime looking and searching for those bones of intentions, those smells of something not being quite right. Seeking out the treasure boxes of hidden jewels, the collections in the cupboards and the piles of documents and stories called life.

Even in the searching we know there is a possibility that we will find something and it may hurt us, but on we look daring ourselves even more to take that risk, for the wild woman in us is a risk taker and hunter and gatherer of the truth. Even if that same truth will cut us to the core, we still want to know it and then only then if we find nothing can we rest in the knowledge of trust, forgiveness and gratitude for simply being who we are.

Every building I know needs good foundations and those foundations are built in mud and on rock. They are buried in the dark and murky places. I do not need to know all they are made of but I do need to know they are there. I also need to know that he knows they are there, that they are strong and that they are the foundations of his own work.  Once I know this, then I know that we can begin to explore what has grown up from these foundations.

So when I work with men particularly, I want to begin at this base line, these foundations. With women we may work in many different directions all at once, circling around drawing on many life experiences and following threads of our lives here there and everywhere. Energy spiraling, but always coming back to core issues. The male issues begin at the foundation and rise to find its peak, softening again as he reaches that climax and allowing some vulnerability seep through. I cannot work with men in the way I work with women and vice versa. We are different. So even writing this I am realizing, how do I even begin to explain what it is I do. Does it all come back to sex?

At a primal level it does. At a more sophisticated level it is an energetic journey that involves connections to hormones and cellular structures, verbalizing through reactions and bodily sensations.
When those sensations are mirrored in my own body and heart and I begin to resonate with some of what I am connecting too, then I can begin to understand what I am working with and how best to further the experience. At the end of that day it is not so much what has been said but the vibrancy between us that can speak a multitude of languages, exploring many terrains and landscapes.

But my journey continues, working with men and with women. As I work with women with a little more ease, I need to remember those masculine souls I am addressing too and remember the difference in our languages. I need to reach to the souls of each. If I do not make that one of my missions then I will only attract those men who have lost the masculine fire in their bellies and have stepped into the feminine space for safety and belonging. I want to meet all these different men and share what medicine I have that they may find useful and helpful. What do they need to know about femininity, what would serve them on their own journeys?

When we bring out the camera, I realize there is a safety net, we can delve and prod and poke and search for the truth because there is a witness, a powerful witnessing tool. Extreme care needs to be taken with this, it is not for fun we do this exercise, my own intentions have to be acknowledged, my going for gold and the magic of the moment is my need as much as what they are looking for themselves. But can they then trust me. If I do not let them know this then I wear a mask too. I sit in the safety of the camera, the witness and unknown to them I satisfy my own curiosity and fascination.

So I unashamed admit, I am searching and looking for the authentic male, the one who shines beneath his masks, the soul in his heart and glint of spirit in his eye. The truth that he is prepared to show up with and the beautiful free dancing graceful being that shows every part of himself both with passion, fire, integrity and grit. And as Steiner said “show me the boy at 7 years old and I will show you the man” I want to see that young vulnerability and that magic. At 7 it is the time we women need to let go of our sons, send them off with their fathers into the world. At this magic moment we say good-bye we witness their fears but must step back and hold that boyhood energy no more. A lot depends on the father, is he even there? How do we let go of our boys if he is not?

But if we have done our work well then we will witness clearly their ability to be vulnerable to this passage way. Send them naked to the world without a shield and sword and let their hearts and souls be that protective energy, let nature engulf them and swallow them into its abundance, let them be cleansed in the oceans of time and the wind lift their wings above mundanity and suffering. Let the fire challenge them to expand their muscles and psyche. Then when they meet us women as lovers we will know they no longer need the mother’s breast, they left it long ago but that they are ready to speak us the truth about who they are and what they ‘really’ need from us.

And when those endless voices of women saying “where are the men” in workshops and therapy sessions that I hear continually, we can turn around and say, we left that part of them years ago, they have no need to be here, but we know that they are still doing their own work, they just do not need to do it in the same way that we do, because we speak different languages. Yet our souls meet on the dance floor through movement and expression, here we can understand each other intimately and truthfully.

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Wild Love

ImageHow wonderful it is to be so close to the earth, as I lay in her warm grasses feeling the delicacy of each blade and the softness of her touch as my fingers pass through each delicate strand. The pulse of her beating rhythm meeting my own heart and as I listen deeply our songs begin to entwine. I feel her 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 her flesh, as I explore the rocks and stones and craggy places my bones meeting her bones we become one together.

I know I am made from earth and we are one together, the story of my life meeting the story of hers. As I feed her with my love and with my deepest affections I know too that she feeds 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 her time and time again, that I am here for her just as she is here for me, to share the poetry and the pleasures, simply, being united in our love.

I touch the moss, the heather, her ivy clad tree trunks, I touch blossom and even her 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 the darkness, my dis-memberment is her 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.

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Elizabeths Voice

We’ve begun to film our movie. I have no idea the direction it is going to take, but after talking with a script writer yesterday whose writing just led to a very beautiful film, I was

privileged to be at the premier for last night, who said ‘just keep writing and being honest, write from the personal story’ I felt more of an ease with what I have been doing.

I love true story’s, in fact there are very few films I watch that are not some how true to life.  I want depth and meaning, else I quickly become distracted and turn off the screen. I was not brought up to watch television much. We were allowed Blue Peter and very little else. I felt deprived sometimes but now happy that I can take or leave that box in the corner of the room and although my own children watch a fair amount of it, they too had very little as they grew up. So it has felt strange for me to now be working on a rather large project with my partner Ben, as we begin the production of the story of Elizabeth. Ms’Guided Angel. With so little knowledge of the film world and its ‘making of’ I recognize my naivety in it all, yet a massive amount of enthusiasm. I know it is very much about the journey for me personally and the creativity involved, but the end result is equally important and it is here that the message will be told more effectively.

How effective can we be in the world? I want to get a message out there fully, not via another documentary, but by telling a beautiful yet tragic story of one girls life, knowing it could be the story of many young girls lives. So I am taking the advise of the writer I spoke with last night, I am writing the truth, the honesty from my heart, I’ve no need to

add or take away anything and as I see it beginning to manifest itself, in a moving collage on the screen in the editing  suit, my heart opens even more and I live through some of those moments all over again. I expect others will be touched by it all and maybe some will begin the healing process of letting go of such stories and living with them in a healthier way.

Ms’Guided Angel has her story, she has a lot to say and wants to be heard, who am I not to give her that voice and every opportunity to speak out. Childhood abuse is so often kept quiet, the shame it can bring on a family is intolerable, it is hushed and quieted, but the consequences of that are huge, the repercussions through the lives of many are so damaging. There is work to be done to educate those who would abuse, there is work to be done in helping people to re-member them selves and move on. My journey was a lonely path in many ways, my intention is to help those who feel silenced to speak out and release that voice, that scream, to dance that dance and find their feet, to share with others that they were wounded too and the knowledge that it has to stop. To let those who would break those boundaries know that we will keep silent no more!

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The truth behind secrets

Writing my life’s journey put me in a very vulnerable position. I even had moments of shame that I would do such a thing. After all I had not been the best behaved child, I was not a good student and I had a rather unhealthy sex life. Three things that I know most people would want to keep quiet about.

A few weeks ago I remembered how as a teenager I had a boyfriend, rather briefly and I remember feeling like I would want him to know everything about me. I don’t know why at that age I would have wanted this, but it seems to have run a theme through my life.

I do want my partner to know everything about me and I don’t want any secrets from each other. This is who I am and it feels important to share my whole self rather than just bits of me. I am sure some times he would rather not know but he read my book and I did warn him 🙂

In my shamanic training I was taught not to have secrets. It was better to release anything that could hold us in the past and step into a more honest future. It made me quite outspoken and a little scary sometimes to others. I think they expected me to want the same from them. But no, I don’t need to know everything about every one, but I do know the great feeling we can have when we finally share something about ourselves that then helps us to release the energy held in with it. I’m sure confession boxes served that very purpose, it simply made us feel better and there was no fear that God would tell any one else. It is literally an old shamanic traditional practice that passed on like many other rituals through the system of religion and Christianity.

So I wrote my book baring much of my own story, but hopefully in a way that it would serve others and in a way that was not simply  a release of my own ‘stuff’ but a way to show how being honest about ourselves and open about who we are is not such a big deal. That actually it is a root to healing and being real in the world.
I felt a lot of freedom once I had released by book. Ok, there are no secrets this is who I am. I don’t have to pretend to be any one else.
If we can truefully own our vulnerability then we can embrace life from a more authentic place. We can speak a little closer to the truth and own  up to what is hurting us, what we really need to say and not be worried about how other people feel about us or think of us. It really does not matter that much; unless we believe we are different to every one else, more superior, capable or what ever.

Doing things that are new and innovative cause us to feel vulnerable. Times when we need to speak out make us feel vulnerable and what ever lies beneath that vulnerability may well cause us to feel ashamed. Why would we need to feel ashamed of who we are?
Why would we care? If honesty and truth are what really matters then why are we not more honest about ourselves as people, why do we insist on trying to hide things away. How much freedom is there in that?

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We cannot possibly be ‘free’ if we are holding onto secrets about ourselves. And we may say ‘I don’t need to keep secrets I just don’t need to tell every one about myself’ and that is fair enough, but if ever we do need to share things more openly, what happens to us?
The reality is we are all so very similar, we have all sinned on some level, we have all had bad thoughts and negative or judgmental feelings about others. We may even have done things that were very wrong in our lives. If we are carrying around guilt and shame around them, then we are not free.
I encourage people to speak out about who they are in safe environments. To release some of that energy and tell the stories of who they are.

We even work with it on camera and have a laugh about it all. Heaven forbid we became serious about it! It’s so liberating to see yourself speaking about things you would not usually dare to tell others. The important key is to feel the emotion, let it loose and feel the difference in your body. Chances are there is huge liberation.

My dance is so much freer once I am honest and open. In my relationship we share everything about ourselves, even the bits that make us cringe. We know by doing this we love each other more, because we can trust each other so much more deeply.

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Black Crow Shiny Suit

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Black Crow Shiny Suit dancing

So what was the emerald stone that he spoke about? I had found little broken pieces of green glass amongst the stones and rubble. They glistened like jewels in the sunshine. Just some old discarded bottle that had not made its way into the recycling bin! ImageI remembered my trip to Colombia where the green stone was sold in many shops and places for tourists to collect foreign oddments. My own sweetheart had bought me a tiny wee heart shaped emerald stone for safe keeping in my jewelery box. I thought of the Emerald Isle that I had lived on for 17 years of my life, the green moss and richly abundant green fields and hill tops that my memory so often wanders towards. Missing that tranquil land and sweet smelling pastures, knowing I will not return because now I seek the emerald stone elsewhere. A ha! I realized, the emerald stone was following me. It was with me just like the little green heart shape and the memories that lingered, they had become part of me. I was part of it.

Black crow shiny suit caws back at me from the branch tops. I hear him loud and clear. I don’t find him particularly friendly, he just seems very loud and does not really direct his attention towards me at all. I don’t suppose he has any thought for me. I can see him clearly now, shining in that sun light. His suit of black feathers looking smarter today, with their bluish tinge, they fit him well. Slick, almost elegant in their appearance. He struts along the branch with his own well known self-importance. And I here on the ground in my earthy robes and big boots, sitting amongst the well trodden earth, amongst the pots and plants that I fill with with rotted compost, in the hope for new seeds to show forth and feed our need for green salad and fresh vegetables come the summer time. We are a strange pair. He in his world and me in mine.

The masculine dark suited pin stripe world looking outwards across the buildings and roof tops, the next catch, the next profit, the next gathering of clans within the concrete structures. They meet in circle together. Cawing at each other, are they willing to listen, to speak heart to heart, to feel beneath the skin of conformity?

I kick of those boots and dance a little, moving to the sound of drum beat as it oozes outwards from the yurt in the garden, bones and muscles, earth, rocks and stone, here I am. There you are crow, come move with me, lets find this beat together. He moves he struts, he caws. Dancing shiny suit feathers flapping, beak opens and closes, I hear no noise for a still breath, within the timing of my dance.

For a moment maybe I find a connection, I want to ask him about the Emerald stone. So I continue dancing moving gently. He flies alighting on a near by garden chair top, scraping his beak for a moment, scratching it with his claw cleaning away the crumbs from feed time. Looking up he seems curious enough to remain awhile, sensing there is no danger.

I am but the feminine, what worries has he of my breeding, my earthiness, my dance? Might it worry him a little, may he be slightly disconcerted with my presence in HIS garden. What could I possibly do to fear him. My toes touch into the earth, I feel my roots and sense my heart beat, he flaps his wings will he alight once more? Tiny little claws of grey painted shiny foot wear, like his suit sparkle in sun light. Tight fitting, cramping those toes, never dancing freely, Armani, Boss, Lauren, well made and suited for the purpose, looking good, looking good. My bare feet touch the earth, they dance freely, he sets off again in flight, on he goes barely time to breath. Never settled long enough, must always be; doing doing doing!

I breath, deep breath, now I feel my heart beat stronger and stronger. What is right for this earth for this mover, this beat getting stronger. And so my fingers back again in that soil, did Armani ever touch the soil?

Cawing from the roof tops this time as others join him. What of the strange creature touching the earth? Looking seeing, exploring the possibilities of learning something, anything. Is there a profit in the making? Gathering together they are one group of wise words and well meaning for the company, yes for the company, oh the company they keep of course. They see each other and strut and peck and nod their heads. And the feminine creature arches her back, stretches her limbs and talks to the earth, what then sweet earth if only I alone am talking with you. Do you care?

The sun is beginning to settle amongst the clouds and wander to its resting place, a chill lingers now beneath those same clouds and settles in a mist around me and the roof tops. Cawing Crow knows its time to join that mist, to journey onwards through the concrete, home ward bound. Breathing those mists into lungs that heave through smokey atmospheres, through air conditioned stale smoked smells of putrid, over used breath and condensation.

Not this Crow, he flies freely from all of this I know. Along the road side, pavements, park ways, Mercedes, Bentley, Rolls and Lambourghini free rolling, radio gently swooning, no worries. My dance takes me inwards, into my cavern, old and familiar, drum beat rocking my mind…..where will my next journey take me?  If I ask the Black Crow Shiny Suit to come into those darkened places, to meet me there, shrouded within the dream time, what I wonder may we discover together.

I take my emerald heart shaped stone into my cavern with me. Its a journey into that darkened place to explore something I know so little of. There is the crow meeting with me. Is he reluctant? Will he allow me see deep within those shiny feathers? Making myself so, so small I creep inwards, unfolding one feather at a time, like making my way through thick forest and undergrowth, clawing away brambles and anything that gets in my way. I meet with each white stem of a feather that is planted deep into the grey like flesh that has yet never seen the sun. Thin in its texture so grey and undernourished. It feels cold to my own fingers that are long and spindly, yet always there to meet with the dirt of the earth and with the rays of the sun that brown and wrinkle them. This grey skin so thin and cold, takes one small pinch of the nails on my fingers to pierce into it and allow my own energy to flow deep inside. One moment of sharpness a pain that is barely felt but knows that its there. Shock for one small moment, he is seen, he is known, she finds her way in.

The sensual being under the skin meets with each of those white bones and sinews that run deep within caverns that are old and forgotten, cobwebby thoughts, old process’s, deep cellular mud and rubble that has not moved in many decades. Meeting at its core, gently massaging with the dance of thousands of years that stirs and shakes and re-members each cord, fusing together broken wires and mis-matched threads of forgotten information.

Calling to the Crow to move and dance those pin stripped Armani Bentley driven feet, to move across this floor to open up those wings and feel that heart beating harder into this music. So heart and beat become one and timing of feet, claws, hands, heart dance together in the feminine creatures soulful embrace.

I reach out and touch the top of this head as it bends down to meet my own, neck stretching uncomfortably, but opening up each vertebra on its spine so that fluid, once more can wash through those fixed compressed bones and clear out unwanted chalk dust and small pebbles of discomfort. We dance, we are danced, we open up the crazy possibility that these two worlds can and will meet, that they will begin to find harmony and the green emerald will find a new river to flow in, as it separates itself from the hardened spine of fear and accumulation.

We follow the green emerald together, dancing our way laughing and celebrating its release. Watching where it flows to. It has its own journey and gathers itself and the green rushes and grasses that open pathways for it to spread and expand upon. Giving itself back to the earth it fertilizes each pasture each field and delicate flower. It seeps back into the earth, filling the deep mines and blood-let caverns, to feed the earth with nourishment and replace the loss of soul deep within its veins. Hungry for this drip feed of new blood, the skin turns a lighter shade of pink, pulsing veins to the surface and warms gently a belly undernourished for many life times.

Earth and sky meet flapping wings, sun rises and songs are heard as if nothing ever happened and nothing has changed. I dance in my garden, aware of the crow in his black feathered shiny suited booted wardrobe, pecking under the feathers cleansing out the mothballed grub and clutter, ready to begin another day, another dream and chatter amongst the rooftops.

 

 

 

 

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