I have been struggling to be creative of late and here I think is the crux as to why. I thought I would share my experience and musings.
You know what happened? I became posessed by posessions. Again. Both in a material and metaphysical sense. For example friends…I *had* to keep contact with after moving and I missed having them in my life.
I see Scotland as a place, and therefore question, should I have stayed there or not? The question in itself being a posessive one rather than a transient one and operating on that level instead of a posessive one. The latter giving rise to questions such as; did I make a mistake in leaving, or one of comparison to my own state of being then whilst I was there to now being here. However, if veiwed from a state of transition and non posession, I would accept the past and be grateful for what it was and be happy in the now as I would just get on with it, not be constantly making comparisons and not feeling a sense of loss or lesser-ment in my life due to certain places and people being no longer present physically.
Accepting transience doesn’t mean I would forget them, rather it would give a warm glow to the heart when re-membered.
They and I both free of any form of posession.
late 14c., “to hold, occupy, reside in” (without regard to ownership), a back formation frompossession and in part from Old French possesser“to have and hold, take, be in possession of” (mid-13c.), from Latin possess-, past participle stem ofpossidere “to have and hold, hold in one’s control, be master of, own,” probably a compound of potis“having power, powerful, able” (from PIE root -*poti- “powerful; lord;” see potent) + sedere, from PIE root *sed- (1) “to sit.” – etymonline.com
Empty is my heart. Full of all that is missing. Something so simple as cooking a particular dish that I haven’t cooked for a year and three months. The dead are all around me, or am dead? Who crossed? Me or you? As I smell this food today I really don’t know.
My sacrifice to you.
Excerpt from Psalm 103:
“Our days pass by like grass,
Our prime like a flower in bloom,
a wind comes, the flower goes,
empty now is its place.”
I read this my lady and an icy wind gusts through my heart as I know the words to be true. They echo through the empty chamber of my heart. The place where you were. Our crossroads reached, the point of egress, now passed. My Rose you have gone from me.
Indeed my lovely, for now, but do not fear. I will find you again, just in a different form. Lift up your heart to me and I will find you dear one.
All things must end order to begin again.
I close my eyes and I am transported. Light footsteps tapping on the stone echo down the darkened corridors, murmured prayers are carried on the air like incense….close your eyes, come, meet me. See you in the dark.
“The Grace Dieu Priory was an Augustinian priory near Thringstone in Leicestershire, England. It was founded around 1235-1241 by Roesia de Verdon and dissolved in October in 1538. It was dedicated to the Holy Trinity and St Mary.
By 1377 the priory had 16 nuns, with a hospital for 12 poor people attached. The account book of Grace Dieu for 1414-1418 survives in the Public Record office.
In 1538 the priory was dissolved and one of the commissioners a John Beaumont of Thringstone who closed the priory took advantage by buying Grace Deiu at his own valuation and converted part of the priory into a country residence. The ruins are mostly from this period when the priory was rebuilt in Tudor times. In 1550 Beaumont became Master of the Rolls at the Treasury, but he abused his position for personal gain and in 1552 his estates were surrended to the King.
In 1696 the greater parts of the buildings were pulled down by Sir Ambrose Phillipps and the ruins we have left today are all that remain of the Tudor house and earlier Priory.” – WiKi
The nuns who lived there called themselves “the White Nuns of St. Augustine“.
Final image of a St Augustinian nun late 18th century – WiKi commons.
“Do not fear the Truth, never interrupt the journey towards it, never stop searching for the profound truth about yourself and about things with the interior eyes of the heart. God will not fail to give us light to see and warmth to make our heart feel that He loves us and that He too wants to be loved.” ~ St Augustine.
It really struck me today as I was walking along a pathway I have been treading now for around eight months daily and now today saying goodbye to it, I realised just how many little parts and sections of it have their own “personhoods” and personalities. Each new “being”, be it a tree, a bend in the pathway, a crook in the road, would cause me to get out my camera and take a photo as if photographing portraits.
Here are some of the photos, enjoy!
And cake to finish up with. 🙂
My Rose, I am like a moth to your flame. To be burned by you is heaven. How can I leave you now, but fate decrees I must.
The first moment I met you, our eyes danced, we both combusted. Boom. I didn’t think about it much until later you gave me your invitation; and I accepted…
…and deeper I went into your invitation until we both combined, entwined, two hearts pervading, permiating flesh, beating and being as one. Now we can no longer be together in flesh, I don’t know what I will do. It is torture. It is agony. But, is rapture, because I met you.
You said to me it is better than to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Oh my Lady, yes, it be true. I thank God I met you. And yes, in spirit we are still one.
My beautiful Lady, this is all I can do, to share this with you and tell you how much I love you…
…take me to a higher Love.
“Dance, when you’re broken open. Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you’re perfectly free.” Rumi
Image: Gyoshū Hayami
For those dear to me, who have touched my heart.
“But I don’t ‘go to the isles’ for beauty. The isles – the past – the pagan wonder and mystery – come to me! It is what a writer receives that makes him or her. All art is from within. It is from what dies into one, and is reborn.”
~ Fiona Macleod