A Woman

What does she see when she looks in the mirror?
A wanderer or a lost soul?
Uncontrollable passion that hasn’t been expressed
Or wild dreams and big hopes she wishes to live, but hasn’t dared to yet?
She feels inky shadows and pain; they seem real and they haunt her.
They’re not real – they were made up, years ago, to protect her.
She sees them, she feels them – she goes back in time along tracks of memory where they can be found.
She sees the same woman, but not grown up yet – she’s a little baby
creating definitions of the world around her.
She meets her reflection – a warrior who loves to explore,
who enjoys laughter and freedom, makes choices and isn’t afraid anymore.
She smiles at herself, because she knows now – her heart is much stronger
than the memories her mind has been holding on for too long.
So who is she? A mother? A lover? A daughter? A child who’s afraid to grow up?
The more she lets people know her, the more they love her for her;
She’s a sacred and never fully understood mysterious language of gods,
a turbulent gust of cold air, she’s a fire, and the calm after a storm in the sea.
But more so than anything, she’s the master of her own infinite creative power and beautiful feminine essence designed to connect with the gods.

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Pretty Lies

In a moment of icy crystal like clarity
My wounded heart was beating so loud, in a dusky restaurant,
I was afraid that he would hear it and ask about the wide eyed look and rose-pink hot-flushed cheeks
When suddenly I saw my own fear infused, ever expanding, like a stain of blue ink on a white satin sheet, insanity.
What I was trying to achieve, perhaps not what, but how, it startled me, stabbed me to my core with a pair of cold, stainless steel scissors
By betraying my own tired heart, by going for something that has never been true for me which I knew right from the tangled-web-like start;
I hurt myself like a bird fallen from the sky that didn’t spread its wings and violently crashed to the cemented ground.
This wasn’t a life anymore, but pretty lies to me, my soul and I.
Running from my own truth. Lacking the courage to ignite a fire in my jaded heart. Not allowing myself to believe, not allowing to love.
Except that the lies weren’t pretty anymore.
And even though, out of marmite ridden guilt or maybe fear, I’ve still tried, the convincing, ghostly blindness which used to be my friend,
Didn’t have that hypnotic power over me anymore as much.
The truth has pierced its eyes wide open. It made me feel the flowery drops of dew in early morning on my thirsty skin. It’s slowly steered me towards a clearing in the bleak and shapeless day, perhaps it’s impelled me in the direction of love.
I was left alone. Again. To figure things out.
To choose yet another voyager sailboat in the stormy ocean, no, not even on solid ground.
Well, either that or stick to something that I’ve known – the pretty lies. The ones that I’ve been using to betray my own heart.
And all I needed to realise the truth was a conversation with the perfect stranger in a candlelit restaurant with casual yet stylish deco,
Where waiters smile at you and treat you like a king;
In the city restaurant filled with hope and expectations, of multiple hearts looking for home – to belong, to feel safe, to run wild and to accept themselves.
The arrogant stranger who shook me to my core, I thank him.
He tossed a shiny golden coin onto darkest ground and disappeared into his granite castle. And in that way he’s perfect. Never to be seen again yet never forgotten.
I picked up the coin with my cold, trembling hands and promised to my heart that I’d pay the price to listen to my soul until the language that it speaks to me feels finally like home.

Elena’s Story

I met a woman yesterday (let’s call her Elena) and she shared an incredible story. I’ll tell you a little shorter version of it, but tell you I must.
 
Elena has had some heart complications for most of her life; and one time, in the presence of her mother, she went into cardiac arrest. The mother was crying and shouting that her daughter was dead, and she kept telling Elena that she loved her and was asking her not to go.

Elena remembered hearing her mother’s words and by the time her mother had said, ‘love’ for the 3rd time, in her unconscious state, Elena suddenly saw a tall column of bright white light with lots of number sequences in it, moving at incredible speed. And that column of light flowed into her heart and Elena regained consciousness. She described what she experienced as ‘god’.

The story made me think of two things: 

1. There’s no more powerful force than love 
2. There’s light in each and every one of us

So let go of past pains and disappointments, don’t hold onto memories which you cannot change. Stop going back and thinking about what could have been done differently. Even if you’re hurt, connect to what’s higher in people and even if you cannot love, at least acknowledge and appreciate that part of them and, most importantly, let go. Because the person transformed by that experience will be you. Because you deserve to be free. 

What’s yours will always find you, but the key is to be open enough to receive it.  What we want most is often within arms reach, but we’re so blinded by our ego that we refuse to see it. So ask yourself, what is it that you truly want, but are not allowing yourself to have it? And remember, we’re infinitely loved and guided. We are love. ♥️