Tree Magic

While I was in hospital the big old tree that dominates my new garden developed its full cover of greenery in the warm spring weather.  Sitting inside as I let my body heal I am spending hours looking out into this tree.   DSC_0101

While the tree seems to be exuding some gentle yet powerful healing magic it’s hard to photograph from inside the house.   It’s only when I get outside underneath the branches that I can fully appreciate it’s majesty.

I have no idea what species this tree is other than knowing it is not an Australian native because it is deciduous.     I also have no idea how old it is but it could well be over 100 years old.   I live in the old part of a town that was first settled by whites in the 1850s.  The little cottage I live in is nowhere near that old but the land it stands on could well have been a farm and the tree planted as a shelter tree.

All these details don’t matter at all to me right now.   I am simply soaking up the wonderful tree energy and enjoying the play of light through the branches over the course of the day.    I think about how the roots of this tree must plunge deep into the earth while the topmost branches reach out and embrace the sky.   Thinking these thoughts I feel immensely grateful for the beauty of earth and for the way much human activity actually adds to that beauty.    It’s so easy now to see only the gloom and doom of negative future projections.    It’s so good to have been given this time to stop and appreciate life (even though I’m chafing at the bit to be better and get back out into the world I know there’s no quick health for me right now).

The tree in my new garden is a living presence that has come to symbolise health, longevity and strength to me.

DSC_0112

 

Advertisements

Ill health

I have been in hospital for a week after 2 weeks of illness.   I came home today and am now on the long slow road back to recovery.

That PDF of haibun I promised is nearly done but it will take me a while to finish it at present.

I might make some simple blog posts as I recover as my online contact with other bloggers is very important to me.   Thank you for reading – Suzanne

Life Paths

For years I walked little known paths deep into the forests.   I loved the magic and the mystery and learned much about the natural world.DSCN8803

Recently my path through life has taken a different turn.   The old paths are being washed clean –
DSCF1279-01

and I walk new paths that hint at potentialities and possibilities  –

2018-09-24-06-28-41

These new paths unfolds before me and lead me into new territories I have yet to explore.

2018-09-24-06-38-11

prompt:   https://travelsandtrifles.wordpress.com/2018/09/22/lens-artists-challenge-12-path/

Time Travelling

I’m experimenting with possible layouts for the haiga that I will include in my upcoming e-book (assuming of course that I actually master the technology – at present this aspect of the project is pure speculation).

Here’s an entirely speculative haiga that may or may not work as a response to the Weekend Meditation prompt
http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.com/2018/09/carpe-diems-weekend-meditation-51.html

mirages (480x640)

The challenge is to write a haiku in response to the following poem –

Endless Time

Time is endless in thy hands, my lord. 
There is none to count thy minutes. 

Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers. 
Thou knowest how to wait. 

Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower. 

We have no time to lose, 
and having no time we must scramble for a chance. 
We are too poor to be late. 

And thus it is that time goes by 
while I give it to every querulous man who claims it, 
and thine altar is empty of all offerings to the last. 

At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest thy gate be shut; 
but I find that yet there is time. 

© Rabindranath Tagore

 

Up to the Angels

This post first appeared on my old blog “Art and Life”.   Today feels like a good day to reblog it.

snapseed-01.jpeg

As a young child I saw fairies dancing on moonbeams and felt the wings of angels catching me whenever I fell.     As I grew older I put away childish things and moved into the cold hard reality of the light of day where seeing is believing and all else is imagination and fantasy  –

not a comfortable place to be at times – a place where I felt I’d lost something but could not quite recall what.

I became a spiritual seeker and wandered through the years searching –

                                                  003.jpg

One day I went to one of those Mind, Body and Spirit Fairs. Tarot readers and psychic healers offered instant answers in exchange for money.  Crystal sellers touted their wares.  Nothing really interested me until I came across a chalkboard notice advertising a free talk on angels.

I filed into the room with a crowd of people. When we were all seated a young woman dressed in a simple cotton dress entered and spoke to us of her encounters with angels. Her manner was so sincere I was intrigued. There was something compelling about her and a deep hush fell over the room.

Without much preamble she said would call angels into the room. ‘You may be aware of a change in atmosphere when they come,’ she said as she closed her eyes.

The silence in the room deepened and the air temperature cooled. I felt a deep peace fill my mind. Around me people exhaled audibly and shoulders visibly relaxed. The woman explained that the angels will come to us when we ask and that they are there to help us. She then gave us the following affirmation:

‘I take the burden of (name your issue) up to the angels and ask for a complete healing.’

I have used these words many times since.  Sometimes my burdens ease.  Sometimes my attitude to them changes.  Some answers come quickly, some take much longer, always though, the first step involves suspending disbelief.

14348643229731 - Copy.jpg

 

Inner Journey

This post first appeared on my old blog ‘Art and Life’.    It may resonate with some of you.

I journey within –

For so many nights now I have been dreaming of old tired places, thoughts and experiences I have no wish to revisit but which lurk in the dim recesses of my mind.   It is as if all the debris of my psyche lies in wait for me to sleep so that it come come out and haunt me – night after night.   Every sorry story I have ever been part of is choosing this current time frame to revisit me in fragmentary nightmarish scraps.   It is as if I have become a  voyeur surveying all those moments in my life when I was less than perfect or failed to achieve some goal.

Often these dreams are so disturbing they wake me up.   Invariably this waking occurs at strange times – 02:02, 3:33, 4:44 etc.    For a long time I thought the dreams were pointing out deep psychological dramas I needed to resolve.   I would lie in bed, tossing and turning as I wrestled with my demons.

After a while it came to me that these dreams were showing me things that happened a long time ago.   They were often about events that had been resolved with time or they retold stories of incidental moments that I could nothing about now.   It was if my mind was somehow stained with these things – that those unpleasant occurrences had left behind a residue that still coloured my subconscious.

I told myself sternly that it was time to move on but the dreams continued.   It seemed my subconscious had an inexhaustible supply of bad memories to parade before me.  Endless murky interiors haunted by ghosts of my past presented themselves.

Recently it dawned on me that what these dreams are showing me are not issues I must resolve in my waking life but patterns of thought that keep me trapped in repeating infinite variations of the same themes.   What they are showing me is the dark side of my own being.   My own shadow self.

I have always thought that the psychological shadow self was a dark figure that embodied all the unsavoury aspect of the self – some heinous malevolent character that would devour all the good parts of me if I let it loose.   What I’ve recently come to understand is that my shadow self is an amalgamation of my own negative thoughts – my lack of self esteem and feelings of inferiority (due to all the usual culprits – age,  worldly and financial status, body size, gender etc as well as memories of past mistakes and failures).   It  is that part of me that holds me back and keeps me repeating old thought and behavioral patterns that reinforce my lack of self esteem and feeling of inferiority.   It’s like an inner series of labyrinthine rooms that are all essentially the same.

That realization has become a beacon in the darkness.

I have been thinking along a track that has already ended.    Now I realize I can change my life by changing the way I think.

Now that I know that I flood the dark interior spaces of my mind with light.

DSCN8618-01.jpg

Reblogged in response to this week’s prompt on Sue Vincents #write photo challenge

  photo credit – Sue Vincent
prompt:    https://scvincent.com/2018/09/20/thursday-photo-prompt-pillars-writephoto/

 

Serious Clowning

prompt:           https://dversepoets.com/2018/09/18/come-to-the-circus/

I’ve only been to one circus in my life.   It was when I was a young child.  The whole thing bemused me.  I felt sorry for the animals and I didn’t like the clowns.   While I wouldn’t say I am afraid of them I’ve never really overcome the feeling that clowns have a pathetic, even tragic, quality.
Here’s a haibun I wrote about an encounter I had with a clown as an adult.  This haibun is included in my e-book of haibun that will be released next week.

SERIOUS CLOWNING

On a quiet Saturday afternoon a clown in a campervan pulled up in my driveway.   At the time I lived in a lonely house on the edge of a saltmarsh.   It was a place of shifting mists and lengthy silences.  Misfits, artists and ferals lived thereabouts and sometimes came to visit so when the clown jumped out of a campervan I wasn’t all that surprised.

He’d lost his way he said and was late for an engagement at a children’s birthday party.   I gave him directions then, curious, asked where he’d come from.  He told he’d driven down from the city some three hours away.   He’d worn his clown clothes complete with orange floppy wig, red plastic nose and full clown makeup the whole way.   He was a very serious clown and didn’t seem to think there was anything odd about that.

Out of the blue
with no rhyme or reason
– serious clowning