Universal Soup

“We are all refugees. We all traveled from other lands looking for somewhere better to live. All of our ancestors have been invaded and cast out at some point in our history. We all carry this collective pain. We are all human beings. We all belong on this earth. If we can all learn to take care of our collective home and take care of one another, I don't see why we can't all be welcome in each other's countries.”

Samantha-Jeanne Wild

https://www.facebook.com/jeanne.reynolds.7798

High on my mountain I watch my existence swirl around like melted ice cream. Sweet, creamy and cold. Unsure of which way to go. So blessed, so present - yet so forlorn in my eyes. Avoiding the truth but of what and why? The truth is I don’t know anymore. I need to explore more of my self, I need to return to health. To feel real, to feel full, to know and to grow towards the sun and through roots that stretch to the core of my realm and beyond. 

I sing the song of the whale, the doubt arises from this precious guy that I find in my life. So true and expressive, so honest and tender. Such a beautiful gift to my heart and my soul, the pure essence of gold. I wish to grow for him and him alone. 

Though I know that to be the queen of his realm I must own my sacred kingdom first. I feel a deep thirst for a journey within. To sit with the rhythm of my breath and tears. To feel through the fear and the joy, to realise my fire and my divine story once more.

There is no need to endure a pain greater than this. I just need to realise what I choose to resist will grow deeper still. What is it that will help fill me up again? How can I be my own best friend? Keep up with my flow from months ago to continue to sew the seeds of forgiveness and compassion for self.

This and only this will assist me in my return to health.

I can journey by the side of this pure divine essence of a man.

The favourite colours of my life make love over the horizon. Feet pressed gently in silver moon boots scuff at the worn wooden decking as I swim along the notes of the moonlight sonata that drips from the faucet of the man’s soul in the room behind me.

Deep yet light in his wanderings. 

A shared winter’s joy and collaboration.

I with keys that create words. Him with the ones that milk song.

All rendered from the same essence.

From times of great joy, the soaring heights of ultimate pleasure and the billowing fall from the same lofty peaks.

The knowing feeling in your heart.

The growing, echoing, emptiness.

Alone in the 11pm rain, waiting for a bus that never comes.

I watch the warm and lit windows below me.

Wondering of their lives. 

Of their cuddles and tenderness.

Of their squabbles and foibles.

All ape, all human, all sweat and grot and wees and poo.

All political beliefs, spiritual journeys and sexual fantasies.

All the tears.

All the laughter.

What angers them?

What makes them feel whole?

What is the saddest song ever written?

When was the most poignant moment they ever heard it?

Did they weep when their mother’s died?

Did they care for Diana and the birth of the new royal sprog?

Have they ever eaten frogs legs and howled at the moon alongside their naked beloved?

Have they ever clutched someone as their body’s convulsed in terror or deep grief? Whilst mucus flowed like The Nile from their spluttering noses and mouths over the loss of something so dear to them that they can’t fathom leaving their bedroom, opening their curtains or using any words to communicate even a simple hello for months on end?

Have they weathered the storms of loss and gain, jealousy and revenge and still continued to love themselves through it all? Because of it?

To love themselves.

To love themselves.

Wrapped up like newborn babes. 

Safe and warm from the harsh realities of the world.

Ready to rise again and again..

With wooden sword in hand and colander-hat on head.

Ready to face that world.

With grin on face and sparkle in eye.

Have they danced.

Have they sang.

Have they lived.

I find myself here again, within perfection yet stifled by a malaise that attaches its skin to my flesh like chewing gum on a shoe. Cold and stretching long tendrils of the past that want to be kissed long and tenderly by my own beckoning mouth.

Long months of dredging down into my silt, sand and clay. Searching for the answers of my soul. To the stirrings of my heart and my child’s tears. Year after year the same swirling soliloquy pressing her paws up from my belly, guiding her wooded wary eyes out of the brush and mud and out into the light again.

To love another, to love thyself. To love life in all its facets and malarky. To dive deep into the opals of my irises and just know it’s all ok. To gift myself space every day to write and sew and knit my reality together. Stitching the strings of resplendence through the eyelits of time and the earth.

To create something new, something worthwhile. Something that brings expansive thoughts and joy for all who experience it. For all I hold within me. To love another. To love thine own self. 

To be true.

To accept life as it is and continue on anyway.

To breathe in the space of another is some times a challenge but it’s a beautiful one. To be buried down deep in the cellars of my inner most machinations is nicer when there’s someone upstairs waiting to drink tea with me. 

I rise and I fall for a manner of things. Towards the ground and sky at the same time and I know in time this life will guide me towards all that I want.

He is that want. Of all I’ve dreamed he is the best team mate I’ve encountered.

It’s just I flounder within my depths, I didn’t feel quite ready to come up for breath.

But there he was and there was I.

Underneath the blood moon sky.

And so I cry and laugh and paint and sing, I continue on with a manner of things.

To punch and to question.

To sing and to ask, 

I fight for my right to the light and the dark.

The rhyme and the reason

The truth and the treason

The shadows and the fame

The meaning in my name

The breath and the sweat

The solitude and the sex

The past, the present, the future and you

And this gooey place I find myself strapped to

The truth is I actually want everything I taste

And I don’t want to waste an instant alongside your fine form.

You wild storm of fire and ice.

You untamed artpiece

You majestic muse of a man.

Both of the feminine and masculine.

Come up to breathe, come up to the space where it all exists.

The layer of phosphorescent phytoplankton that glows and froes in the autumn mornings. The one that makes you feel like Billy Jean wandering over steps as they light up underneath your precious feet.

You may feel raw, but explore it gently.

There’s no rush, if you feel shame ask its name. What does she wish for? What does she need? Is all you are doing in the moment heeding what she is speaking? Are the seeds for her brightest future being fitted in the most fertile of soils? Is Lakshmi herself scattering her smiles and tears over your bounty?

How can you best live your life? How can you experience your own flow every day whilst keeping the bankers at bay? The balance is somewhere in there and today clarity will be abundant. Coursing through your veins with action and strength. Assisting you in all you’ve ever meant to be a part of. For all that’s destined to be of your essence.

Let go of all external distractions; focus on what it is you need to read the captions of your internal compass. You’ve got this on lock; the time is now for you to bloom into a trillion colours. To bask in the light of being a mother to all, a best friend, a lover – a shining light until the very end. This is what I send you today my dear, just be with all that makes you feel outside of the fear.

- Samantha-Jeanne