Purifying salt

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Though the raging waves

spray salt in your face,

hurting the cuts which cover your lips

from biting your tongue to hold truths in.

As the winds whirl around you,

whipping hair into your eyes and

lashing your vulnerable skin,

drawing tears of blood to run down your cheeks.

While you shake and shiver as

coldness seeps deep into your being,

tensing your body and spirit.

Through stinging, lashing and shaking

remember:

The waves will still,

The wind will calm,

And the warmth will return to your

thoughts and bones.

And then you will realise this truth;

A truth born out in the molecules of the universe,

A truth which is true when feelings are not…

Salt purified you.

Tears released your pain.

And that cold,

that wearying, biting, cold,

That cold preserved you.

Image: Antonio Miucci
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Sitting at the beach

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No one questions why someone is sitting,

Empty handed,

By themselves,

At the sea.

We know.

At the sea,

We understand

this act of

Being

with one’s thoughts.

But.

Bizarrely.

Doing that in a cafe in London makes

people will think you’re a weirdo.

Brighton Beach, 26.5.19

Comfort

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Thick,

fluffy,

white bread,

sliced by your soft old hands.

Toasted,

golden brown,

reminding me of crunchy autumn leaves.

Wearing a heavy coat of yellow butter like a duvet,

giving comfort,

and warmth,

and homeliness.

A satisfying crunch and warm butter flooding my mouth,

awakening my taste buds,

and stirring my heart

with warmth that transcends temperature…

This evening,

the weather is mild,

but my heart is cool.

And for the first time in near two decades,

I crave the comfort of your toast…

And you.

Image: myrecipes.com

Mindful leaves

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A short note musing on my walk to work a few weeks ago…go with it.

Walking,

hurriedly,

texting,

music listening,

walking,

work-thinking,

absentmindedly

putting my hands in my pocket and

Realising:

I wasn’t aware of what

coat I was wearing.

Sobered.

Needing to ground myself

I STOP.

Putting aside thoughts of what others

think of this woman stopping mid pavement,

just standing…

looking at a plant.

I look at the leaves,

appreciate the green,

the light on its leaves,

frayed browning edges

and vibrant green,

I still my thoughts

and body

and just LOOK

For a minute.

I pick a small leaf and walk on

Slowlyyyy.

Looking at the leaf,

feeling its grooves,

Grounding myself by focussing.

Feeling more steady.

More present.

More Me.

Leaf on my desk,

I glance at my talisman through the day…

My reminder to breathe.

And be.

Secret Daffodil Garden

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My heart stilled and swelled

upon seeing blossom trees

and daffodils

in this secret garden.

Cherishing a few snatched

minutes of stillness,

in and with myself,

I picked a bent daffodil;

a keepsake of this Gift to me.

My face turned upwards,

to the bright,

clear,

white

sky

hanging over me like a banner.

My eyes closed;

My heart full

with

gratitude,

love,

and

the pain of longing for you Grandad,

who loved daffodils so.

My spirit open,

with hope of what will be painted

on the blank sky that is

the open canvas of my life

for this year ahead,

As my ears fill with the swell of birdsong.

Image: DLB 6.4.19

Sunflower counselling

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Yesterday evening, for a WILD Friday night, I had my first counselling session. It’s been a long time coming. And I found a therapist I related to, who gets my comments about gender and race and keeps up with my flicking between received pronunciation and street language. A therapist who is REAL, in her gold reeboks, natural black-girl hair & statement t-shirt!

So 50minutes of ranting/ mature sharing later and I’m feeling ‘yep, I could work with you’…. and then the price was shared. Pow! The tears which had been building as I’d so freely shared my anger & pain spilled out. Cos it felt like a door that was opening had suddenly slammed shut!

Fast forward five minutes, as I came to the bottom of the stairs of her office I saw that the cosy waiting room was empty (cos y’know, it was FRIDAY NIGHT!)… so I walked to it to sit, cry, pray, & process.

AND THEN I SAW THIS: a Sunflower painting.

And I knew. This is my place. This is my counsellor. This is my God / the wall (delete according to your theistic belief!) confirming it to me. Saying ‘I see you, I’ve led you here, trust and proceed’. To add a little context, my nickname is Sunflower. But it’s more than a nickname. My being is Sunflower. I am Sunflower. So I sat, cried, listened to soothing music & prayed: I will go forward & TRUST the money & timings will work out. As sunflowers move to follow the sun, I’ll keep moving into this space that’s been offered, following the sun & helping to put the shadows behind me.

Face towards the sun

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A car-park poem. (Got your attention!)

I sketched this after three minutes just standing in the car park outside my work building last Thursday. Such was my need for sun on my face and soul.

A deep, visceral need.

By myself, eyes closed, just standing.

Image: Pinterest

NLB

face towards the sun,

feet planted firmly.

Wind blowing,

whole body shaking,

feet planted firmly;

shaking not falling.

Face towards the sun,

eclipsed by the passing cloud,

Sun re-revealed,

smile spreading,

sun blessing.

Feet planted firmly,

face towards the sun,

as clouds and wind blow.