the broken woman

Seagulls are singing in my garden. They don't often come this way, and I wonder what course of wind and wishing brings them here. I wonder why I must sweep sand from my driveway sometimes, despite the houses between me and the sea. There are all kinds of mysteries at the edge of the world ... although they aren't really mysteries, of course, only things we don't know. They are known to the ocean and its birds, after all.





Lately I've been wondering why awful times come to some people. Not the hard kind of times where you must make a sword from your ethics, or dig deep for water, or cope with a diagnosis: earthly hard times that call for doing the work which comes with being in the world. I mean instead the times that appear seemingly out of nowhere to break you, and you feel you can't go on.

So I asked Life if I may know something about this mystery. And what I've come to believe is this : we talk a lot about people having a unique song that their soul sings. Or a calling that their heart hears. But why do we make the senses discrete? A person is a flow. And sometimes things happen in life to disrupt that flow. Maybe an illness, or a move to some new place, or taking up the wrong job. The person may not even realise that there is a problem. Once the initial trial is over, they go on as normal. But gradually they may begin to notice that their body aches, or they've forgotten what they loved, or little things keep going wrong, or the poetry has gone. And if they don't attend to this, then it will get worse, worse, until some catastrophe happens. Of course, it's been a catastrophe all along. But a person may not appreciate that until finally something sacred to them is affected. Then, at last, they realise.

Their life and spirit have been out of sync too long.




When life breaks you, hold on to the anchor of your heartstone. Whatever that may be for you. (Perhaps a feeling, or a godhead, or a piece of old story that encompasses your beliefs?) When you are anchored, still, breathing again, you can begin the tenderwork of rediscovering your flow.
I don't much like modern style therapy practices. Talking and thinking have their places, but also there should be dancing ... weathering ... aromatherapy ... listening to the birds sing. And going to your front doorstep to see what the wind has inexplicably left for you : sand, or a flower, or sunlight in winter, or silence so you can begin to speak again the poetry of your soul.


Art by Lucy Pierce.


22 comments:

  1. this is why i belly dance...

    ("hard times require furious dancing")

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  2. Wonderful perspective and thoughts indeed.

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  3. Beautiful and true and I agree. I love this line especially, "hold on to the anchor of your heartstone". Blessed word weaving. Honey for the soul. And I don't like modern therapy practices either (even though I'm a counsellor). Last time I went to counselling I got fed up of talking, stopped going, and went swimming with a brave toddler and took singing lessons instead. Much better xx

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  5. This is an incredibly timely piece for me. Thank you.

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    1. I'm sorry that it's timely but I hope it offered some comfort or support.

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  6. So lovely. I like to go to my doorstep to see what the wind has left me, and dance a little too.

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  7. Thankyou I needed to hear this, I feel inspired by your words about holding on to an anchor. Gorgeous artwork too, I must look her up. xx

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    1. I'm sorry you needed it, but I hope the inspiration is of some small value. I have long loved Lucy's art.

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  8. Beautifully written, and I agree. xoxo Su

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  9. I'm near tears after reading this. Just yesterday I uttered those exact words, that the poetry was gone. Thank you for this, thank you so much. ♥

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    1. (((Hugs))) I am so glad the universe sent you something that might help, through me. I hope things improve for you soon.

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  10. Gosh, Sarah, this is profoundly beautiful. Such, such such wise words. Thank you. xxx

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  11. Gosh, Sarah, this is profoundly beautiful. Such, such such wise words. Thank you. xxx

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    1. Thank you, that means alot coming from you and I appreciate it :-)

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  12. This. Yes. Thankyou, thankyou for these sacred wisdom. To say that it's well-timed would be a massive understatement. xx

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    1. I am so sad that several women have said they needed these words or that they're well-timed :-( I wish life wasn't so hard for so many. ((Hugs)) and blessings to you my friend. xx

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  13. Yes!:
    "I don't much like modern style therapy practices. Talking and thinking have their places, but also there should be dancing ... weathering ... aromatherapy ... listening to the birds sing. And going to your front doorstep to see what the wind has inexplicably left for you : sand, or a flower, or sunlight in winter, or silence so you can begin to speak again the poetry of your soul.
    "

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  14. Wise and beautiful. Thank you. Also for sharing Lucy Pierce's art.

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