Friday, March 15, 2024

The Flowing Tide

 



High and large and dark the sea rose from the horizon, against the white beach. Norderney..'Sei mir gegrüsst, du Ewiges Meer.'

Why is this so beautiful, so beautiful, that I have to think about it almost every day and it brings tears to my eyes almost every day? I try to fathom it by repeating it, but it doesn't want to be fathomed that way and it flees from me. Small and alone I stand before the sea, before the sky.. I surrender to them, they take me from myself. Sea and sky take over from me. Over the blue waves my eyes anchor deep to the horizon, I am as wide as I see, I reach as far as I meditate.. my indefinable musings are lost in my limitless being -, so compact, small clouds settle into thin mists ..


- Carry van Bruggen, Dutch Author, 1881-1932, excerpt from Eva © Querido publishers 



Sunday, January 14, 2024

The Essence of Everything


In this present state of the world, the necessary component of life on the planet is awareness of wholeness with regard to Nature and ouselves, an awareness with which women are often more familiar and in tune. But women must learn to focus and give priority to what we find valid in our own experience without need to look to the past for justification. The close relationship of a poet or mystic to Nature can be everyone's ordinary relationship, and our culture can change from one of rapism to one of interchange with and appreciation of the beauty and value of the Earth and beyond. One way that men and women can cease splitting ourselves into various parts, even cease dichotomizing being and becoming, is to recognize our androgynous wholeness. The angels are an example. Androgynous, they use their masculine and feminine aspects as suits the situations.

It is from our wholeness, our divinity that we can then relate to anyone else and to our world. If I am out of tune with myself, I am out of tune with the universe. The core of relationship is to be at one with oneself and therefore at one with the essence of everything.


Drawn from: Dorothy Maclean: "To hear the angels sing" - an odyssey of co-creation with the Devic Kingdom 

Saturday, November 11, 2023

When I Was the Forest

 


When I Was the Forest


When I was the stream, when I was the

forest, when I was still the field,

when I was every hoof, foot,

fin and wing, when I

was the sky

itself,


no one ever asked me did I have a purpose, no one ever

wondered was there anything I might need,

for there was nothing

I could not love.


It was when I left all we once were that

the agony began, the fear and questions came,

and I wept, I wept. And tears

I had never known

before.


So I returned to the river, I returned to

the mountains. I asked for their hand in marriage again,

I begged - I begged to wed every object

and creature,


and when they accepted,

God was ever present in my arms.

And He did not say,

“Where have you

been?”


For then I knew my soul - every soul -

has always held

Him.

*

– Meister Eckhart (1260 – 1328)

*

Art: "Sacred Heart" by Odilon Redon

*

Friday, October 13, 2023

The Music of Silence



It was the evening of the work’s premier performance. The symphony was very well received, but it was after the second movement had concluded that something remarkable happened. The audience burst into spontaneous cheering and applause, shouting for an immediate encore. But the conductor on his podium did not react.

An assistant walked onto the stage and carefully turned the conductor around so that he at last could see the ecstatic reaction of his audience. The concert was given on the 8th of December 1813 for an audience of Austro-Bavarian war veterans who had fought the retreating army of Napoleon just five weeks earlier, and Ludwig van Beethoven, who was both the composer of the symphony and its conductor at this special concert performance, was by this time almost totally deaf.

The wishes of the audience were made clear to him, and Beethoven immediately launched into the movement’s requested encore, with the orchestra dutifully and beamingly obliging. Even today, over two centuries after these events, the second movement of Beethoven’s 7th symphony, the allegretto, seems to have a special power to stir the souls of those who hear it, and Beethoven himself felt that it was one of his finest works.

What we are left to reflect upon is the vision of someone who, through his human will to create, overcame what must surely be the greatest setback for any composer: his loss of hearing. Others have done as much. The great Italian Renaissance artist Titian battled increasing blindness to continue painting, and the American author Helen Keller worked through her own dual handicaps of being both deaf and blind to continue her prolific and successful writing career, and so communicate to others what her creativity required of her.

We all are the children of divine spirits who move with us along our life’s path, even though that path might at first appear to be one which we would not have chosen for ourselves. But our spirits are always there, and all which they ask of us is to trust them, and to know, even in the face of what might seem to us to be ‘unfair’ odds, that we will be given the courage to do that which is required of us. And there always is the music of a blessed musical genius to give us both strength and solace. 






Portrait of Ludwig van Beethoven, created in 1820 by Joseph Karl Stieler, court artist to the Bavarian kings.




Saturday, September 9, 2023

The Red Wolf



Children go missing all the time.

Sometimes it is faeries who steal them.

Other times, they trust a wolf.


Even in times of war, children are innocent to the true ways of the world. Their mothers are always wiser.

This is because mothers know that the softest people with the biggest hearts are the ones who held the truest magic of them all: purity of this kind could not be bought from the Gods themselves, and it was the greatest target of the devil-souled.

When Little Red Riding Hood went missing, a girl so beloved by her mother that she always told her she could be anything she wanted to be, her mother never ever left the place where she had grown up, hoping against hope that the trees, the woods, would one day return her child.

Every day, she stood at the end of the woods, looking into the dark, hoping to find a wisp of her forest-hearted child somewhere within the leave-strewn wild. Every day, she took a step closer to the darkness, hopelessness making her courage steadfast, stronger.

Grief makes unlikely warriors of us all.

So when she saw the two lamp-like eyes in the dark one day, she was not afraid. Instead she asked, 'Brother wolf, are you the one who has stolen my child from my arms and taken her away?'

'Not I' said the wolf before disappearing.

The next day, she took another step closer to the woods she had once searched every inch of and another pair of eyes glowed through the darkness, red like the colour of her child's cloak.

'Brother wolf, are you the one who pulled my child away from me with just a look?'

'Not I,' said the wolf before turning away.

A wolf began to visit her almost every day. And every day she would ask the same question a different way. She found herself getting closer and closer to the heart of the forest and the wolves never ever attacked her. She began to wonder if what the woodcutter had told her was true, that the wolf had eaten her child for supper.

On the day she reached the heart of the forest, she began to realise that although she had thought she had been here before, this lush, dense part of the wood was a place she had never been. There was something both familiar and unsettling about it, like a place not meant to be seen.

A lair where a thousand lamp-like eyes watched her from the fog and the dark, and even when the fog cleared away and the light came through, she found what she was looking at was enough to make her fall apart. On a throne amongst wolves of all sorts and sizes, a young girl sat. She wore a red wolf's skin on her body and two swords sheathed behind her back.

Slow recognition crept over her face. She ran to the older woman and, after hugging her, finally told her why she had never come home. 

'Dear Mother, I am sorry I never ever came home. The evil woodcutter and his friends were trying to destroy this forest world. When I came through the woods, I happened to hear all of their plans. They saw me listening, followed me to grandmother's, killed her and tried to burn her house down with me in it so they could continue their wicked plans. The wolves came to rescue me, and trained me to be one of them. I am now the Alpha and protect them from the woodcutter and his evil friends. 

Her mother promised her that she would never tell another soul where Red Riding Hood was. The secrecy was their only weapon against the woodcutter and his horde. Over and over again, Red Riding Hood and the wolves bravely defended the woods and woodland creatures from extinction. They bravely fought and her mother soon came to live with them and aid them in their battle.


So when you tell the story of Red Riding Hood, remember this too:


Her mother told her

she would grow up to be

anything she wanted to be,

so she grew up to become

the strongest of the strong,

the strangest of the strange,

the wildest of the wild,

the wolf leading the wolves.       

***

- Nikita Gill; from Fierce Fairy Tales & Other Stories to Stir the Soul. 

Artist: Marija Jevtic

                               

Monday, August 21, 2023

The Fullness of Days


Often days pass when I do not see anyone, days pass when I do not seek to see any person nor speak to him. The days pass quietly and simply. But I take care of the few things that are close to me not through their own fault. I try not to hurt them and wait for dusk to come so that I too can be quiet, lie down and rest from what I have done during the day. That's how life goes. Without great achievements, without anything special, without impressive or famous achievements and contributions to human civilization.

Because of all of this, my friends see me as worthless, a loser who did nothing important in my life, neither did I achieve the elementary things, nor the basics. Without reason, they say to me, I experienced life stealthily, I lived it in vain, going towards the common fate, death.

But if my friends knew my daily work, maybe they would change their minds, maybe they would even revise their opinions and theory.

Every day in morning I look reverently at the empty sky, I stare tenderly at the trees, regularly caress the wild flowers, listen carefully to the voices of the rivers and let the carefree calls of the birds in the sky soothe my hearing. Then I take care every day how I tread on the earth, not to damage God's insects , not to spoil the order of the gravel that the winds and chance have arranged.

I take care, then, if I meet people, to be compassionate and be disposed to forgive everything, I never fight back, and I leave when I feel I'm growing wearisome - and this happens all the time.

Generally speaking, I try daily to flow between the things and the lives of others without stopping them with my own extravagant wishes, and my own irrational demands that ask for an excessive share of pleasure.

In the evening I try to spend the night reconciled with everything and above all immersed in that feeling that constitutes the heart of life. The feeling that life is one and is not divided, that it has no small or great things, grand or minuscule but only functional spirits, thoughts, actions and things that all together unceasingly enshrine unity and shape the beautiful body of the unified life.

 ***

"Living as a Lighthouse keeper" by Giorgos Kordis

Art: Michael Peter Ancher, 1849-1927, Danish artist.


Friday, July 28, 2023

Caoin na Sídhe - Keen of the Sídhe - A Tribute

 


The Keen of the Sídhe is heard by those carrying this ancestral lineage for Sídhe beings who are transitioning from Body to Spirit.

The famous wail or keen of the Banshee holds the tradition that when the people with the blood of the Sídhe are dying, the crying woman of the otherworld will be heard lamenting with the piercing wail of grief. Its said to be an earth shattering sound. 

Yesterday morning I could feel the energetics of a massive ball of energy shattering and I heard the wail. It was like a hurricane of sorrow,  a roar of the almighty earth and the light of a thousand sun's going dark. 

I thought OK, something major has occurred.

It was last night when I heard the news of Sinéad moving into the Otherworld and I could see, feel and relate this transition to the energy I heard and felt earlier. 

The Sídhe are powerful transmitters of Sound,  Song, Voice and Word. Their Joy and Lament are the same,  Earth Shattering Light Codes that bring about Epic changes for those with hearts to hear.

This Beautiful Otherworldly Bean Sídhe was a major holder on the grid of these Sound Codes.  She came to Rock,  Dismantle and Shatter the old. She was Fae through and through, She was Original,  from the place of the Unknown. Unknown by the human paradigm and tormented and haunted by the human paradigm for expressing these frequencies but FREE in her Sídhe form. 

The wail of the Sídhe as they transition is an accumulation and release of the potent emotion and energy that these sacred keepers of sound have held and contained within the restrictions of their human vessels. Mostly they have held and contained these emotions for their ancestry and the collective. They are Grail keepers,  Cauldron holders,  Wells of Knowledge with Powerful Voices to help humanity to shift, awaken and evolve. 

When we transition from Body to Spirit there is an intense review period whereby every experience we have come through moves through us, sometimes it's images, feelings, memories etc. The  Caoin na Sídhe is this review in Sound. Sinéads release was Epic,  the Sound was Immense. May she be FREE now in her Sídhe form and welcomed into the Unconditional Love of her Origin. Resting in Peace, knowing her Sound carried us All.

All my love to you Shining One, on your journey home, Thank you for your time holding us, 

Cáití Caille

Thursday, July 20, 2023

The Mirror of Your Soul

 


The Mirror of Your Soul


In the everlasting heartbeat of life

there and even deeper

we are one, indivisible,

inseparable


Standing on my shore

gazing out over my surface

you see into the mirror

of your own soul


You are so weary of the storms

that have torn through your life

so let my tides carry you

to the deepest depths

of your existence


Until you remember once more

that you and I are one

for you yourself are the ocean

and I, your eternal Mother.





Image:  me at the Oregon Coast near Neskowin, 2016 © Deborah Wright, photographer


Tuesday, June 20, 2023

I AM



No longer a spectator but an observer, my perception is my creation. No longer victim but creator, my creation is my act of love. No longer possessed but lover, my act of love is constant recognition.

I am old and weary, tired of the years.

Young am I, all wonder.

The beginning is me, and the end, and everything in between.

The hand that embraces me in love, is me in gratitude.

I am.


A piece of text that touched me, from the beautiful book by Hans Korteweg: "Many More Years" 


Art: Jacob's Ladder by William Blake


Sunday, June 4, 2023

Chalice




CHALICE

Purify what remains impure in me

that I may be a vessel full of honey


for without your help it will remain

an unrefined nothing,

my beekeeper, my queen.


You show me the path

which leads me to your hidden garden

winding through the labyrinth of my days.


For I know that in that blessed place

I can work freely,

and when the sun is high

I will kneel down.


I mirror myself in your sweet source

and the honey chalice opens.


Everything becomes light with you,

everything is renewed,

at your word the desert will bloom.


It is what I have longed for,

what I so long have sought,

what I have hoped for all my days:


To become a room

among the many rooms 

in the Mother-house of Love.




Art: Bhramari Devi - Hindu Bee Goddess. A form of Shakti who changed into a bee to fight demons and negativity. Artist: Greg Spalenka


Thursday, May 18, 2023

Ascension Day


Ascension Day comes when the season of blossoming is reaching fullness. Trees and plants, stirring upwards in growth, have been touched by the warmth and light from the blue bowl of the sky above and shower forth its blessings in color and scent. The whole of nature reaches upwards towards the heavens.

The longing of the human soul strives also upward, in unison with nature, seeking the touch of world-warmth from the sun. This mood of ascension attunes all of life to the expanses of the cosmos.

However closely heaven and earth are aligned, their relationship is not always the same. In this we see the miracle of the seasons - the breathing-in and breathing-out of the great earth soul.

At the time of the Ascension of Christ, nature celebrates the ascension of the soul of the earth. It can hardly be by chance that the forty days between Easter and Ascension coinside with the season.
Every year in the springtime, when the earth breathes out its yearning for the airy spaces above, the mystery of the Ascension of Christ, who is the Spirit of the Earth, is renewed.

And surely it must be so that as Christ has ascended to glory, in the fullness of time so too will humanity ascend, and be transfigured into what will become our soul's true and ultimate destiny.