Wednesday, July 14, 2010

The Long Haul

Night before leaving Australia. Fragile. Open. Scared. Completely vulnerable. Not that I could feel that as inside I felt all triangles and squares. I felt spiky.

I called dad and said that I wanted to say goodbye and he said "How are you?"

"I’m scared Dad."

"Of course you are," he said, and the warmth love compassion care tenderness respect and pride in his voice melted my spiky thorny insides and brought me back to myself.

How do I feel?

Scared.

"So what do you know?" he asked me as I walked the Melbourne suburban street in my pyjamas and uggboots in July and cried into him.

What do I know? What do I know now? 'Thank you for that question...' echoed around my cavernous insides as the wisdom within was invited to speak…

"I know that I’m scared. I’m scared of the dark places waiting for me.

"I know that the dark places will be forward as they are backward and I know they will be wherever I am.

"I know that I’m afraid of feeling all alone in the world. As if no-one cares. I know that in one sense I will always be alone.

"I know that at times I will love my aloneness and cherish it and within it feel All One and connected to and supported by the world and everyone in it.

"I know that if I remember to, I will meet angels along every step of my journey.

"I know that on my travels I will reconnect with friends who will remind me of selves within myself that are a bit faded and rusty and that will absolutely DELIGHT me to BE once again.

"I know that I am so excited about the places that I am stepping into. Inner places and outer places.

"I know that there are ways of SEEING that I am blind to now, and I know there are ways of LISTENING that I’m not able yet to hear. I know there are ways of THINKING and ways of LOVING and ways of CREATING and BEING that I have no concept of yet. And I can’t wait to meet them. I KNOW they are all there… in this beautiful blessed future tumbling towards me that I am also falling into.

"I know I will meet people who will show me ways of loving and being loved and feeling connected and alive and together beyond anything I’ve yet experienced in this world…. But I will KNOW it because LEARNING TRUTH always feels like REMEMBERING something you’ve always known but just forgot.

"I know I will learn things that will open my mind and open my world. I know that a whole universe of new worlds awaits me… and I’m the explorer of my own unknown galaxy… and that excites me on a level that renders the word ‘excited’ as completely inept."

And I felt soft, open, gentle and whole in the complete safe-ness of that state.

Of walking into my future… ears, eyes, head, heart open.

"That is beautiful. That is poetry. Write it. On the plane tomorrow you need to write that Jayne. Write it. And take it with you and put it on your wall with that other poem of ‘Home’ that you read to me the other night. They will remind you and bring you home. Remind you that you ARE home, wherever you ARE."

Walking into my future… ears, eyes, head, heart open.

Listening for the shimmers of sounds that my ears are just learning to attune to…

Sensing the subtle differences of colours I’ve never before seen…

Watching for the beautiful leaps of head and heart going to new places that feels like a deep and delicious remembering…

Walking into my future… ears, eyes, head, heart open.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Home.

There's nothing like moving to make you think about home. There's nothing like moving to get you sorting through STUFF and finding all kinds of trash and treasures... As I've not been posting much here with all my movings and 'see you next-times' I'm feeling quite barren on the reflective front, and so I'm going to share with you some musings on 'home' from the past year or two...
Love to you all.x

Home Is… 16th March 2009

Home is a stage, with a guitar and a microphone, and dear friends in the crowd.

Home is mum and dad waiting for me a Perth International Airport at 5.10am.

Home is walking across an oval, with a cricket pitch in the middle and the four footy posts at either side.

Home is Brighton Beach at sunset.

Home is white sand and the Indian Ocean, wherever those two meet.

Home is endless cups of tea and tears, heart and laughter.

Home is sisters and home is brother.

Home is khaki and blue sky.

Home is sunshine so bright, you have to squint your eyes.

Home is warmth and bare feet on bricks.

Home is summer dresses and nothing underneath.

Home is a day spent in pyjamas, and just me.

Home is my writing.

Home is my singing.

Home is my teaching.

Home is me inspiring.

Home is me reading.

Home is me writing.

Home is a best friend’s couch, or kitchen table.

Home is talking sustainability, spirituality, and life.

Home is the Moon Café.

Home is the Beaufort Street Merchant.

Home is a 5th floor Chinese Tea House in Harajuku, Tokyo.

Home is an Organic Lebanese place where they feed me, always, in Camden Town, London.

Home is a Hotel in Sweden, where they buy me Soya Milk, and play my CD.

Home is a sparkly, angel filled shop called Mitt Hem in Karlskrona Sweden.

Home is candles and darkness and girl friends remembering their magic, majesty, power and beauty in a hotel kitchen.

Home is Christmas in unexpected places.

Home is phone calls with siblings from round the world.

Home is being listened to.

Home is the silver grey gum trees of King’s Park.

Home is Eucalyptus, whenever I smell it.

Home is Bali, the screaming noise and cool café’s of Kuta, the rice fields and lemongrass tea of Ubud.

Home is the Departure Board of any international airport or train station. I could look at them for hours.

Home is an airport.

Home is jasmine. And everlasting flowers.

Home is grass trees.

Home is Nanna.

Home is sunshine.

Home is my mini mac.