Journey of the Heart

Birdsong in winter is something that thrills my soul; the audacity of exposure and singing through the dark and cold... Especially in the early morning; to hear a bird sing out its determination not to wait for springtime sun, but to live its fullness even now; oh, what encouragement that brings me!  My family of origin was rife with life threatening, and life taking, depression. People who could not abide the dark and cold. From the very beginning of this life, some Great Grace imbued me with a song, which especially in challenging circumstances and seasons, makes me feel a great kinship with the blessed birds of winter. I am thankful to have inherited the Gift of feeling deeply, but I am also thankful for that Great Grace. Her song, I believe, has saved my life.  Songbird by Brigid Clare Oak There is birdsong beyond my walls this bright morning. In the dichotomy of a spring-worthy sun and deep winter chill; the warble and trill of Life...

A man found a cocoon for a butterfly…  One day a small opening appeared, he sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through the little hole. Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared stuck! The man decided to help the butterfly and with a pair of scissors he cut open the cocoon. The butterfly then emerged easily. Something was strange. The butterfly had a swollen body and shriveled wings. The man watched the butterfly expecting it to take on its correct proportions. But nothing changed. The butterfly stayed the same. It was never able to fly. In his kindness and haste the man did not realize that the butterfly’s struggle to get through the small opening of the cocoon is nature’s way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings so that it would be ready for flight. I always think of this story when I want to remember how like butterflies need to work hard to emerge fit from their cocoons,...

My poems were born through deep inner moments of experiencing my soul truth… And as soon as the words come out I feel this is a creation set free! My poems are not freshly written. They come from a point in time, when my poetry cycle was, as I felt, completed and ready, perhaps, to be published in a book one day. To envision this, I had to embody all that came out from my soul in feelings and words. And, also, in my every day life, I sought to embody what my poems expressed. The journey was long and not easy at all. But today, I as I am reading my poems, I see how much my Soul knew what she was writing about and how I had a chance to go through this experiences to fully embody my poems.  I see my poems as a type of universal truth that speaks to my heart without the use of many words.  In that light, I am now ready to share my poetry, in hopes that you see the story of the potential in just one heart to invoke the flame of purity and love in every...

  Sometimes all I have slips through my fingers… And I pray and kneel to whisper my heart so maybe I can stand when the earth keeps shifting and all I can hold onto is a sliver of faith. Loss etches itself into the chambers of my heart. Patience is my staff and hope is my food.  Every day is a challenge I don’t think I can face and yet I rise, and do the next right thing, as they say in certain circles. The next right thing might be a poem, a movie, a late night with the moon or lots of coffee. Some days the next right thing only serves that moment and the only light it holds is being for that moment the best I have.  I am giving this now my all and hope somehow to make it to the other side, though I have no idea what that looks like. Artwork by George Christakis Truth Lands in My Hands Sometimes all I know rests in prayer: Help the love I know to grow. Help me plant the seeds to sow. Help my heart to beat the loss to lig...

I am a mother of two, a daughter and son, both young adults and on their own. My own mother passed three years ago... Mothering and being mothered is a life long process. Taking many forms as we all go through the phases of our lives and circumstances. A deep relationship with self and the other....our children, mother, friends and clients. It’s very sacred work and way of being: this mother-ness! Recently I have felt that in my life there is another kind of birth that requires mothering. Similar to what I felt with my children. A sacred archetype of mother, as I continue to birth my Self (soul) with the grace of the Divine Mother. Death and re-birth... And now I feel very full, heavy with "child"...waiting.  And my poem speaks of this... 'Pregnant Woman' painting by Isabelle Vavasseurj Birthing As the mother, in gestation, preparing for birthing, nurturing, holding, loving. Carefully choosing pure nutrients for the one to be ...

 I have had many teachers over my life, people who have made a difference, shown me how to open my heart and mind in different ways... I wrote this in December last year. I remember my teacher inspired this. She says she always finds feathers. Hence, I planted one here for her. Grace is the ultimate teacher for if we open to grace she always gives and shares and lights the way. Writing is my way of invoking grace, my way of knocking on the doors I cannot open without the beckoning of the Muse. My Muse is not a person or place or thing. My Muse is Poetry; it is the process, for therein I reach in to see what I might find. Reaching in gives me what I need to reach out, to have something to share, to offer what grace gives me as I continue to learn. Grace I read moments as if Meaning a combination To unlock the giving, And the giving is grace Unwrapping my heart so tears Fall with sadness And joy that all I know is A sheathe of being wit...