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Finding peace in this time.





Good morning dear wild wise sisters and brothers.

I am sharing with you today a piece of writing that has flowed in over the last couple of days.

For me, writing is an act of self-care and love, it is healing. Allowing my words to flow, allows my emotions to be expressed. I experience the sharing of my words as an opening of a portal for others to walk through, if you so wish, to explore your own experience of being alive in this time.



The imperfections of this world

Claw and snap and scratch at my heart.

Threads of grief fall to decay

‘What’s the point?’ my anger growls.


Outside, trees stand – still – strong.

There is no wind today

The last of the leaves wait patiently for their death to come from

One more exhalation of Mother Earth’s faltering patience.


Sa Ta Na Ma

Birth - Life – Death – Rebirth


Sa Ta Na Ma

I sing

I whisper

I silently chant over and over


I wish everyone would just fuck off.


What are these surges of aggression that power through me?

My physical body longs to push and shove, punch and kick.


Walking yesterday, the person with me spoke of ancient wars

The brutal, bloody type of war.

His words went on to speak of the

Techno war, the vaccine war, the division, the censorship - today’s war.


I sighed and said

‘I only wish to speak of the leaves I see in the sunlight, of those already composting on the ground. I only wish to see the mist rising from the valley floor into the winter blue sky’.


We fell silent as we walked on.


Ra Ma Da Sa

Sa Say So Hung

A rekindled, re-united friend

She calms my jaggered edges

I sing out in joy

to the sun the moon the earth the universe.


I curl up with my dog on the sofa

Neither of us settle to sleep

But the rest is welcome.


Later, my son, my husband and I

Set to work on the land.

As they process the felled trees

I stack the logs into the woodshed

Placing piece after piece like a jigsaw puzzle.

The task becomes meditative.

I lose myself in the ease of which each log fits snuggly to each log

Intuitively I choose exactly the perfect size for the pile

As it grows taller, broader, stronger.


The work is pleasurable, satisfying.


Eventually my hands feel icy.

Time to stop and rest again awhile.


The afternoon was good.


Here is a link to the Ra Ma Da Sa mantra I speak of in the piece above






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