I miss a beat

tis true

often

sometimes,

regularly irregularly

I forget.

I forget that I know

and then I remember and wonder how it is that I have forgotten.

 

those flashes of revelation, aaahaa moments when we understand something about our nature our behaviour,

about life and eternal truths,

and then I forget,

and around the wheel we go

once again.

 

it is more than likely I am a slow learner

that I suffer from thick walls of resistance avoidance and pig-headed stubbornness,

which I like to think is tempered by a sense of awe, of inquiry and a whole-hearted love of it all….

but then again is this enough?

 
I fiddle with  the eternity ring on my finger

it belonged to my mother now gone this ten or more years.

in some ways she is closer to me now then when she lived across the ditch.

there is much to learn from my mother.

the truths she hid and  the lies she told to hide the truths.

 

I yearned for her to know me on my terms, to embrace this runaway errant black sheep of a daughter who fled the stultifying suburban 60’s and marched headstrong into the 70’s wearing peasant blouses and mary quant makeup living in group houses with colourful politically passionate people, who had a child out-of-wedlock and then gave him away, who persisted with her life on her terms despite the obvious disapproval, the cold shoulders, the long pinched lip frowns and the sad shakes of the head.

 

carrying my backpack full of guilt and shame staying on the outside and not wanting  to return,

and yet all these mistakes blunders passion for another way of viewing/living the world

led me to this moment…

 

when the magpie lifts its voice into the cold frosty morning

when the sun shines feebly  on a winter’s day and when the street is quiet about its Sunday and smoke steams gently from chimneys.

the galahs are screeching and the currawongs are invoking their melodic ‘curra… wong’.. song.

the sky is blue and clear

the air is iced and not a breath of wind stirs the trees standing naked in the gardens.

 

 

is this enough?

to be Present

to really come into mySelf holding all the blames shames guilts passions mistakes joys and wonders,

free wheeling past all these weights upon my person

and spinning beyond all these responsibilities

into the Presence of Now,

taking the moment to breathe.

 

 

from outside come the sounds of

birds, the odd rev of an engine , a motorbike accelerating up the highway, a neighbours voice,

white rimed frost is sticking fast to the shady spots

while indoors the fridge is doing its bid for global warming

and fingers are tapping out this rhythm,

on the table yellow roses open to me and the white ones drop their petals.

 

 

enough is about reflecting and honouring all the threads that come together to make this snapshot.

about Presence

about returning home to oneSelf

acknowledging the truth of privilege

and allowing gratitude to reign.

it is about accessing alignment and balance so that the truth of the stories we tell – those that paint us beautifully and those that cast a grubby shadow – are not caricatures but snippets of lessons learned and inspirations offered.

 

enough is about staring down the rabbit hole of our selfishness

and owning –

yes, that is me.

I am all of that

I am all of you

I am the flaws the fears and the blunders

I am the laugh crying and the peace yielding.

 

 

one day I will return home to my mother not as the runaway who rejected all she held dear but as daughterspiritwoman who had a mission, who chose to forget so she could remember so she could learn humility and acceptance, compassion and selflessness and bring these gifts back to the table of humanity.  

 

may this journey open our higher selves to the different ways and beliefs of others so that we may honour them.

amen