Valley Of Silence by Fiona Macleod.
“In the secret Valley of Silence no breath doth fall; no wind stirs in the branches; no bird doth call: as on a white wall a breathless lizard is still, so silence lies on the valley Breathlessly still.
In the dusk-grown heart of the valley an altar rises white: no rapt priest bends in awe before its silent light: but sometimes a flight of breathless words of prayer white-wing’d enclose the altar, eddies of prayer.”
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
Autumnal hues brush the landscape once more…
Death paints with such beauty as life force returns to the earth once more to await the arrival of spring.
…the terrifying sense of absolute freedom…
The Meeting Place.
Often I think of you. You are never far from mind.
You are always in my heart. My presence your guiding light. When our hearts are perfectly balanced, we become as one. Together, on that current, we soar.
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.
Photography: Olia Pishchanska.
Seeker: My Lady…
Indeed my dear, I am ever near. I am the presence in the cracks, in between the tracks, I am anything and everything. I am not confined to space and time, I can shapeshift through all, I can exist in all and in all times. But you know it is I when sparks fly, I am the cause and the reflex.
Come to know me in those times. You will learn to recognise me. The eyes deceive my lovely but the heart does not. Follow me there.
And should you get lost on the way my dear, close your eyes, lend me your ears, give your-self to silence; let your being become one with mine. Once there, in the silence, you will hear me roar;
and I will fill you with awe.