Life

Return Of The Soft Girl

The Soft Girl returned for a few moments, yesterday.

My soul. My essence. My flow.

She found me in the car as I drove home from a busy day of moving from one house to another.

She wasn’t with me when I turned on the ignition.

She wasn’t with me when I turned the corner from one street to the next.

But she found me.

She found me through the music that waved in the air around us.

The Soft Girl.

How she drifted in and out of me.

How I long for her soft touch in all of my days.

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Life

Healing Through Dreams

The universe is such a clever muffin. I really shouldn’t downplay its genius by using words that soften my stance such as ‘clever’ and ‘muffin’, should I? I should be using solid words. Power words. Words like: ‘The universe is such a brute force,’ or something like that anyway.

It’s 2:21 am. You may need to forgive me a clunky sentence or two, but I’ve just been woken by the internal ramblings of a girl in crisis (cough: me) and that seems to be the perfect entry point for me to begin my blogging journey once again.

I say I’m in crisis because it really does feel to me like my life is a little like a china shop that’s been trampled by a team of angry bulls, but don’t let that worry you too much. Broken china scattered all about the place is about a million times more beautiful in my eyes, and so it is that the girl half-full enters the china shop to put you all at ease. I am not entirely okay. But I will be more than okay one day in the not too distant future. So there is that lovely thing to think about, isn’t there.

Having my china scattered all about the place has allowed me to see it in parts, and my goodness—what a shock it has been to find some of these parts. What a shock it has been to have realised that this entire time…I have had a choice. A choice to look out for my own needs above others. A choice to avoid overthinking and worrying. A choice to be okay with not being okay. A choice to say, ‘actually, I’m not okay with that. Perhaps we might consider doing it my way, instead.’

This post has been triggered by a dream. I’m well aware that there are many people out there who believe that dreams are just random, but my dreams have transformed my life in too many ways now for me to dismiss them as nonsense. Yes, some do seem to be random. But others, such as the one I’ve just woken from, are, without any doubt in my mind, meant to be seen, felt and healed.

Looking back over the years at some of the more traumatic dreams I’ve woken from, I can see exactly the lessons I should have received from them, had I actually paid attention and respected the power of the human psyche for what it is. Miraculous intelligence. We are fascinating creatures, guys. I mean, really, we are. We’re so brilliantly complex and amazing—isn’t it time we started to respect the power we all hold within ourselves?

The universe is a brute force. It will not stop until its messages have been received and processed, and so it is that I sit upon my bed in the early hours writing these words for you all to read. Now. Time to sleep. My goodness, I’ll be a little bit sleepy tomorrow then, won’t I?

photo of a woman sitting backwards on a metal chair leaning on her arm sleeping
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Life

Words

Words roll in and out of me like breath.

I can’t imagine not reading and writing, just as I can’t imagine what it might be like never to breathe again.

Sometimes the words I write make no sense to me, or to anyone else that reads them. I don’t think that matters, now that I really think about it—no one understands the meaning of each individual breath they take. Well, at least, I don’t think they do…but I’m a big believer that anything is possible, and so I’m happy to keep an open mind on that one.

Words are the mirror that helps me see my life, and as I send my words into the world I offer that mirror to you so that you might see your life in relation to my own. I think that’s one of the gifts of books and reading the words of others: the opportunity to understand aspects of our lives, through the lives of others.

Through my own words, I see and feel my world.

Through the words of others…I see and feel my world from a different angle.

As simple as it is, I believe that humans and our words are the real magic of life.

I choose never to take that shared loveliness for granted.

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Life

Shining Humans

‘Hello, Moon,’ said Sun, as he watched her rise above the sea to meet him in the orange sky.

‘Hello, dear Sun. Must we always meet like this? I’d rather hoped we might run, today.’

Sun looked at Moon and smiled.

‘Running is a human thing,’ said Sun, laughing at his fanciful friend. ‘If we were to run like the busy humans do…how would we shine as beautifully as we do?’

Moon thought of this and nodded. ‘Shining is quite lovely, isn’t it. Do humans shine like us, do you think?’

‘Some do. When they stop running,’ Sun replied. ‘And when one shines, usually the one beside them shines, too. So does the next, and the next, and the next until they’ve made a whole chain of humans as bright and shining as we are, sweet Moon.’

Oh, how lovely!’ said Moon, as she shone silver over the sea, wondering what a chain of bright, shining humans might look like.

adventure backlit dawn dusk
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Life

Permission to Breathe

For the girl who is miserable:

No. You are not the only one.

two women in swimming pool
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For the boy who is angry:

No. You are not broken.

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For the human that tries so hard to be a version of perfect that doesn’t exist:

I see you.

man person portrait autumn
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And now that we all know where we stand…

it’s time for us to take one more step.

And breathe.

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Life

Regeneration

I’m avoiding doing the dishes. It’s not the first time I’ve written those words on here, and it won’t be the last because I often avoid doing the dishes if I can help it. Sometimes, I can turn the experience into something beautiful, and by that I mean I put on some wonderful music and disappear into the invisible place that only I know. That’s when doing the dishes suddenly becomes the most wonderful thing ever.

I have nothing to say, and yet I felt a strong pull to connect with you all: these days, for me, that usually means that I either have something to say that someone needs to hear, or…one of you has something to say that I need to hear. I wonder which one it will be? Perhaps both.

Isn’t it beautiful how life regenerates? I’m going through a transition phase at the moment (which I’ll share more about in the coming months) and where it frightens me so terribly to be in this place…I also feel a sense of excitement and new life breathing into my world. It makes me think of my trees. How often I’ve wandered along my walking track, gazing up at the hanging bark. This shedding always seems such a natural process and one that is entirely welcomed by the tree and its natural surroundings. What does this shedding mean for that particular tree, I always wonder. It means the shedding of the old. The beginning of a new life.

Unlike trees, humans seem to resist the shedding of our old bark, don’t we, usually because we’re afraid of something (sometimes because we’re afraid of everything.) I get that. I’ve been doing it my whole life. But how I long to be a tree and let the bark fall without question, fully trusting that the new bark will grow back stronger and better than ever. And that’s where that frightening word comes into it. Trust. Trusting in the unknown means relinquishing control, and that is not an easy thing for a human being to do, especially not this human being.

But If my trees can do it, then by golly gosh, my friends— so can I.

Bring on my new bark, I say.

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Life

The Sad of Life

There’s a sad drooping in the air today.

A deep sad, thick among the fog of all things left unsaid.

It floats in the river and I catch it in my cup, most unwillingly—

oddly enthusiastically.

Tomorrow, I will place it in the trees and fly it back home.

And I will send for the sun to melt the ice it left behind.

photo of body of water in between grass field during golden hour
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