SPRING CLEANING

The last days, at ca 3pm cest, a huge field of consciousness takes me over, and I start getting thoughts and beliefs: I NEED TO DO SOMETHING

A friend messaged me the same – and that helped me SEE and recognize the invisible belief behind that enormous wave of consciousness

So I wondered about this and found a collective human thought- and as all collective thoughts, it is about God and we being guilty and sinful and needing punishment to pay off that guilt. And that God is not my God, but ancient parts of me believe in him, and I bet these ancient parts are alive in you too

The may be stuck cozily into a room that is named “silliness – I am a rational being, there IS no God” or this room: “ I must do The Right Things-or else” ( what the heck IS The Right Things?) –

Or this room: “God is out to get me – I am full of unnameable sh*t. I MUST not know what I have done, it will be the end of me. “

Yes, and this room:- “ there is nothing I CAN do. But I must DO something!”

The rooms are all splendidly convincingly furnitured and decorated by the ego – the masterdesigner.In some of my rooms I have to roam through endless labyrinths to the toilet – which then is shockfull of sewage.  Since one of my old beliefs is “nobody will listen to me, I have nowhere to dispose of my sh*t.”

 You will have your own rooms, my friend – as long as we believe ourselves to be separate, there will be guilt.

NOW the Corona virus has brought it up in us all to be noticed. That is a good thing: NOW I can look about and wonder how to relate to it with curiosity and wonder:

I wonder how I could draw this energy? Paint it? Allow random words to come from it – place them together in a poesy structure? How could I allow it to move my body?

When we are caught in the belief, we suffer. When we relate to it – in wonder, we are free and creative. We all have that opportunity NOW.

If you answer “ That will NOT help, I will NOT try AND be disappointed” that is just a thought too –  isn’t it?

After having worked with people since 1988 in this way, I know it DOES work, and it has nothing to do with being clever and artistic – just a little willingness to put away these disaster- thoughts for a while, and just play.

We have them, they are not who we are.

Here is a poem I wrote recently – it is a mirror poem, readable from both sides. My friend told me it helped her, so here it is.

SPRINGSONG / 17.4.20

When you don’t know where to go and what to do

sit down and do nothing.

Breathe the calm unfluttering air

and watch the blackbird sucking it all in and swallow it.

Then allow the song to be exhaled in a musical way

 

while you look at a little boy

and watch the happy dog running over the green green field

then get up and breathe that song back inside

you did a great job indeed,

tell yourself that you did a great job

breathing that joyful song out

 

Breathing that joyful song out

tell yourself that you did a great job

you did a great job indeed,

then get up and breathe that song back inside

and watch the happy dog running over the green green field

while you look at a little boy

 

Then allow the song to be exhaled in a musical way

and watch the blackbird sucking it all in and swallow it.

Breathe the calm unfluttering air

 sit down and do nothing.

When you don’t know where to go and what to do

 

For those who are interested in playful non-demanding exercises to deal with fear and resistance, I have written a book just for this times:

Healing Crisis – 108 ways to turn Crises into Possibilities

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blackbird

 

Latest fun synchronicity.

I wrote a poem in my flash-poetry group.  The form is called ‘Specular’, after the Latin for a ‘mirror’, because the second half of the poem uses the same lines as the first, but in reverse order, as if the whole thing is looking back at itself in a mirror.

SPRINGSONG
 

When you don’t know where to go and what to do
sit down and do nothing.
Breathe the calm unfluttering air
and watch the blackbird sucking it all in and swallow it.
Then allow the song to be exhaled in a musical way

while you look at a little boy
and watch the happy dog running over the green green field
then get up and breathe that song back inside
you did a great job indeed,
tell yourself that you did a great job
breathing that joyful song out

Breathing that joyful song out
tell yourself that you did a great job
you did a great job indeed,
then get up and breathe that song back inside
and watch the happy dog running over the green green field
while you look at a little boy

Then allow the song to be exhaled in a musical way
and watch the blackbird sucking it all in and swallow it.
Breathe the calm unfluttering air
sit down and do nothing.
When you don’t know where to go and what to do

****************

You will notice that a blackbird stars in it. And the fun thing is, last week i took a hike in the nearest wood. It is a circular trip, I can choose which way I want to.  Just as I was about to leave the main dirt-trail and enter the wood, I spotted this black wonder.

The Blackbird is my favorite singer in the whole wide world – no-one touches my heart like it. And now it was just 2 meters away. I sneaked my cellphone up, and the minute I clicked the camera, she flew away.

Yesterday, one week later, same day, I walked the same path – but the opposite direction – just like the poem. And now, as I was exiting the wood, at the exact same place, by the exact same spruce, she was there again. This time I prayed to the god of blackbirds and managed to take a photo.

 

London Subway

Having fun today with London subway stations – and borrowing the first verse from Baccus Olypus , a poet friend:
 
SUBWAY
 
(First verse borrowed from Baccus’ poem: )
 
From an opposite seat
he stares when he thinks I’m not looking
He doesn’t know that I hear the bones in his neck grind
and his eyes swivel –
 
And there
They disappear into his head
That sinks into his shoulders
That slump and sink into
His belly
 
Brent Cross
 
My God
Now only his feet are left
And now a sucking black void
 
Gunnersbury – Ickenham
 
I bend down and look closer
 
Canada Water
 
And I am sucked in too
What a bloody sucker I am
 
Cockfosters
 
Too late
 
Epping
 
End station – Killburn
 
with sorry asses chained to their
sins and lamenting their guilt
 
“Welcome workers to
Crystal Bloody Palace
hang your hopes on the peg there,
here is much to do
and atone for
and we will help you with that –
scum!”
 
I looked for the sucking black void
I found it
 
Seen enough
Going back up
 
Sharing Cross
Mile End
Olympia
 
Temple
Embankment
 
Seven Sisters
 
High Gate
 
Green Park

Squiggly Dance for Sorry Asses

I have had the Hater’s shrieks in my ears constantly for over a year.

Writing a poem about it has been very helpful! And also making up new words.

 

******

Tis the voice of Green Hater. I heard him declare:
I am coming to shock you, now please be aware

that I could not care less, no  in truth do I swear

I despise your meek manners, your silverlipped tongue

and your drooping eyelids and songs long unsung

I will come in broad daylight and scare you  quite shitless

I’ll mock your big bum and your wit that is witless

You nincompoop sorryass, daftness itself

I will see you for sure in your innermost hells

where you mope and you moan and you scratch yourself red

and your innermost hope is to drop down all dead.

 

Tis the voice of the writer, I heard her declare:

Oh Hater, I say; be aware, be aware

of my silly-spun heart and my giggly air!

I will spin into rhymes every threat that you throw

ev’ry dullwinded shriek, ev’ry word tasting..OH!!

I will force you to dance with me, following steps

that you never have stepped in your life, little qweps.

I will force you to do what you never have done:

dance to your own silly threats – oh what fun!

I will unnerve your nibs, I will squiggle your goggles

And then then let us have us some heartily bubbles!

 

When I am dead – poem

I am writing this in the the style of e.e.cummings whom I love a lot.

when i am dead and

you pour my ashes under that

special writing bush

i had when i was six

i loved to write stories

 

then and afterwards

if you take a spoon

with ashes a spoon

is enough and

 

if you were an elephant

then would you place your

foot on it and rock tenderly

on it and would you

hold you trunk over it

and blow softly

 

when I am dead

Outside Inside

On the wall outside my window

Is a shimmer of turquoise and yellow

Where does it come from?

I follow the diagonal shape of the light on the outer brown wall

And discover the same shape, but opposite direction

on my inner wall

a  clear reflection

I have to look through the glass in

The window to see it

A lense  a sheet

What is inside is reflected on the outside

There

Here.

Outside  spiderweb-thin leaves

Dance on the clear blue white snow

And I sense this blue cold inside

Being infinitely light caressed by

The dancing steps from last year’s

Waterfall of shedding reds and yellows,

And wispy light pale blue browns

Like the skin on my hands

Dust to dust

Earth to earth

Sun in my heart

And the wind blows right through me

Miracle Cell Phone

My new cell phone has lost battery power from the day i bought it. I have told it to mirror ONLY what is helpful, so I have seen this loss of energy as a sign to me to SLOW down, relax, walk, pause, rest.Today it topped its performance:
It refused to go past 77% uploaded. I charged and charged and to no avail – until it dawned to me – ohmygod it means 1977!


That’s when my first and only daughter was born – ahh – THAT’S the energy I currently have overwhelming me – a HUGE terror at being a MOM – and this morning I slowly meticulously walked out of it by stating that I wanted the GOD-essence within this terror and nothing else.

It was after having done this – and enjoyed the slow and powerful warmth that grew forth – that I understood that the cell phone-power status 77 WAS a message.

The cell phone is lying right here, charging from the PC. For 3 hours now it has refused to go past 77. The minute I realized it, it started going up.

Now I rest in 1977-energy, chaos and terror, calling out its essence fully, sharing it with you all.

And offering a playful poem I wrote in May this year – since that came from this playful essence we all share ♥

SPACE

My words have newly rained here
Now drying themselves up
In May sunbeams
Windows open in houses
Come in, come in!
I can’t and I won’t

Space, I say, Space!

They don’t hear me

SPACE!
I don’t live inside it
I offer myself to it
Becoming its hostess

Hostess I am:
Milky Way hair
Wolf eyes looking at pups
Savannah ears
Nose knowing of sub-terrain tunnels
Light-house lips
Sarepta hips
Breasts like surprised white lamb clouds
Sallow arms, Birch hands,
Legs like leaping Antelopes
Butterfly vagina
And kitten toes

You spot me and enter my Space
I can’t be had

Rainbow smile

And the cellphone is now 100% charged – just as I am 🙂

 

 

Receiving my Self

I wrote two poems these last days. I knew I liked them a lot – and I wanted to RECEIVE them with all of me.

I stood up, stretched my arms up  toward Self and prayed to be helped RECEIVING MY SELF, the beauty and bubbling creativity that comes through me.

AND IT CAME! Rushes of bliss flowed through me, intense joy and gratitude without bounds

AT LAST  RECEIVED ♥

My Others

Moanie Molly is mean on Mondays

frivolous on Fridays and

satyrical on Saturdays

 

Pretty-bow Prune tinkers with truth

on Tuesdays and

tortures toddlers on Thursdays with

a terrible smile of too- twinkling -teeth

 

Wednesday is my day – Woolly Wendy

is my wame. I call them in through

my windows of welcome

I wind them warmly into my

wet and woolly wembrace,

tucking them in, wriggling and wailing

wrapping them up in well-meaning waffle words

 

Sunday is sublime-day.

All of us together.

Singing in the supersonically choir of sunflowers,

Visiting soothsayers and sweet-shocked solicitors,

Swimming in star shined seas of sovereign surprises,

Summoning slithering salamanders

and cute little ducks.

Then we go home

and sleep the slumber of

sincere sinners

and saints

*

OTHER

You think you can avoid me

Climbing the highest mountain

I am your  holy ground

Diving the profoundest depths

I am the reflective surface

Traveling straight forward

I am the tail you bite

You look at me and shiver at the

Dark mask

And I am looking at you through the slits,

Stretching my arms out towards you

You see threat

I see you

Heart  broken open

No other

 

 

 

 

 

 

MOONSICK

 

Talking with Moon

 

Me and Mimsy and Terrible Dill
And Ma and sick little June
Were climbing the hill in the month of Aprill

To talk to the blistering Moon

Our June had mumpsies
And boils and fears
We all had scrumpsies
And buckets of tears
And that’s why we climbed
The old grassy hill

To speak to the Man in the moon!

Stop it! I said, and Ma yelled YES!
We are tired of boils and fears!
We want you to shine in green for a change
Since June is lergic to silver moon
And now could you please see to rearrange

That nasty old silvershine soon!

Then TERRIBLE happened. Down came frogs
And silvery lizards and slithery scrogs
The man in the moon yelled Nay, I won’t!

And we sat in the grass and cried.

And me and Mimsy and Terrible Dill
And Ma and sick little June
Sat on our bottoms and down we sled

Down to our cottage and went to bed
And Terrible Dill said
Ma, I know:
Buy super green Goggles for June instead
And Ma said I WILL! YES I WILL!

***

The photo is taken by Tuasmalo-

https://www.facebook.com/pg/tuasmalou/photos/

 

HIGHLY VALUED SPECIMEN FOR SALE – OUTWORN PLEASING PENNY

HIGHLY VALUED SPECIMEN FOR SALE – OUTWORN PLEASING PENNY
( from Madame Tussaud’s secret Museum of Lost and Toxic Relationship-Specimens.)

So endearing in her dead-beat condition
Pale gray dress frayed at cuffs and hem
Buttons hanging by threads or missing
Sensible shoes downtrodden, black and bloodied,
Shoelaces frayed and exhausted
The old sweet “I will save you” necklace with engraved letters
Flashing, communicating subliminally in code.
Overstretched grin, parading as smile
Chained to gritting teeth
And a heart that needs to be right
Above all

This is a great specimen
Well preserved in her exhaustion
Which makes her truly convincing
When you push her belly button
You may get a whiff of very special
Guilt
She comes with her own black-lacquered cupboard
With well-preserved and polished skeletons from
Her noble ancestral line
Extra:
Ear muffs in skunk for when you can’t stand her
“I know what’s best for you”-tone

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Please note that nothing written here is intended as medical advice. Readers who think that they need help with a physical or psychological condition are advised to seek a qualified opinion.

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