In this place I am vast.
Breathe in. Oh beauty, you are mine.
Breathe out. Divine love, enough to share.
On white wing, I sail across the feathered sky and dive beneath the salty water.
I am skin and bone. Naked heart, singing as I rise and crash on the shore.
Rest. Sweet lips taste the day. Winter sun caresses. A reminder of summer’s passion.
Photograph © Jeni McMillan
Hearts fly everywhere. They are not caged birds, nor prisoners or captured souls. They are re-invented, magnified, majestic mirages. Newly created masterpieces and old works of art. Open heart surgery reclaiming the pulse. Untied, unfettered, rebounding and boundless.
There is no time like now.
This instant where our hearts create beauty.
A breathless impulse to fly.
photo © Jeni McMillan
I am too cold to think, seriously! If I wasn’t so stubborn and ethically-motivated, I’d have the heater on. Damn you, environmentally-conscious, save the world conscience, you are ruining my day! I’m home alone so it’s not as though anyone else would notice a little spike in the electricity bill. Jewel Punk has fled to the northern beaches, El Eco put on five layers and pointed his motor bike toward the sun, while Newbie Housemate was last heard of seeking hot babes from OK Cupid. What am I thinking? Another evening with multiple hot water bottles? I’ve just arrived home to minus seven without a back-up plan. Yes, I should be in the Greek Islands. No, I have not bought my ticket. But maybe, just maybe, i will thaw out my brain and follow the guiding star. Carbon footprint noted.
PS. I’m off to the coast tomorrow. See you when I get back.
Photo © Jeni McMillan
It’s time to bare my soul again and admit that I do not know. I have no idea about the powers of attraction. I am uncertain about the future. Sometimes I lose trust in the universe and experience fear. Yet I understand solitude. I have known love and the human condition of complexity and I have touched and been touched by tender hearts across the ocean. But what is love and how do I find it? You are so silly sighs the mountain. You know you know says the Tree. It is all around you laughs the wind as she picks up the brittle leaves and blows them away. The rocks know. They are older than Time. Listen to your heart they say. Love chants deep Oms that vibrate the core of the earth. I feel the rough truth beneath my feet then breathe in the present. It is here, now. I do not have to know a thing.
Photograph © Jeni McMillan
Find harmony in storms, waves in a full teapot, footsteps beneath the ocean and voices in the vacuum of a star-filled void. Breathe in stillness of the morning air. Awaken the inner child with the mindfulness of the old. Sense the silence in the afternoon light. Soak in the silken sun. Find solitude on the mountain. Share my stolen moments. Live the tumultuous peace that is the beginning of completion. Create. It is no paradox. It is all we can do.
Yes, I hit the Big Smoke yesterday, where the glamorous people hang out. Sydney is hot, whereas Canberra is ridiculously cold. Minus seven the other morning. I’m not sure how I’m surviving in my deep freeze of a room. El Eco and I are stalwartly holding off from using heaters to save the world from the melting of the icecaps but, to be honest, I’d prefer a little less ice at the moment. So Sydney is, despite the roar of traffic, a hot option. (Note summer dress in Australian winter)
Thanks to Christal George for the great photo, fabulous food and friendship.
With every tiny bubble that escaped from her lungs and rose to the surface, a new life gained force. Silence. The Gods and the Goddesses shook their bones and took her in their arms. Grow wild sang the Tree, for he knew the importance of freedom. Dance sang the Poetess Divine, for she knew the heart of the matter. Paint the sky, sang the Wind of the West. And thus, she took a deep breath and danced like a wild-thing to the end of Time.
In appreciation of friends breathing the same starlight.
Photo copyright Jeni McMillan