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Meanwhile, out in Rumi’s field…
Dance like no-one is watching. That’s what they say, isn’t it? When you’re afraid to let the true you out to play? Dance like no-one is watching, even if they are. Even if they laugh at you. Even if they try to shame you – all the while their own desire trails like an errant underskirt below the hem of an otherwise respectable garment. To break down, break out, break free… the moment of possibility pulses and wavers – a mirage that could be made real if only it were given credence. The paradigm shift to end all paradigm shifts. The dance floor is yours. Will you take to it?…
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Make Art. Because We Need You To.
Provoke me. Inspire me. Shake me. Comfort me. Seduce me. Touch me. Dance me. Play me. Confuse me. Move me. Show me… …the contents of your heart, the imaginings of your mind, the cravings of your spirit, the spaces of your soul. And do it by sharing your art. I am so done with the judgements with the proclamations with close-minded opinions of surface-scratchers. I don’t want to know how they think I should blog. write. share. breathe. live. I no longer live within the limitations of their minds. I am stifled enough by the limitations of my own. Instead create art of your own, express in the medium…
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Altaring
You know how we put off that which would support us most? That weird kind of resistance where we deny ourselves the nourishment we crave? Yeah, me too. Recently, for me, it’s been my altar. It actually brings me great shame to admit the state my altar was in. I made excuses for it. I ignored it rather than change it. I pretended that it wasn’t all that important anyway as I carry my spiritual presence with me. i carry it in my heart. But the truth is that I was cutting myself off from one of the tools that serves me best. And isn’t this all too common? We…
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The Words Are Waiting
Words hover at my fingertips waiting to be released into the keyboard so that sentences can spiral out onto the screen – whole stories fashioned out of the rhythmic tapping that punctuates the silence – a voice rendered in symbol and form – disembodied, yes, but potent all the same. So potent, that the fingers stutter, and long pauses begin to fracture the quick tempo already set by the eagerness of those words – those words that hang at the tip of a tongue lying still in my mouth: hemmed in with teeth: imprisoned by jaw. And then the pauses lengthen and stretch out to broad horizons of nothing but…
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Another Return
This weekend, I am returning to this place which holds such deep significance for me. And so I am called to share this article taken from my free download Less Ordinary Living, which you receive upon signing up to my newsletter. Grandad wanted just to drive us back home again. He had driven me and my tiny daughter the 6 and a bit hours to get to our new home on the north western tip of Scotland, and now that we had arrived, the disappointment was palpable. Our new home sat on the edge of the kyle: a long inlet where the Atlantic flows past, shaping and reshaping the sand…
