Return

After having been away for a long time, I decided it's time again to come back. You know how you can have times in your life you don't feel like talking? or sharing? Or saying much at all. I've been working the grind, as they say, for quite a while. Currently I'm working but working where I'd like to be makes the difference. I had forgotten I could write. Apparently my grammar can be imperfect, but I'm not going to lose sleep over it. 

I'm still a goat herder, and I prefer to stay one for ever more. Goats never go out of fashion. They rule. #highooves

Have a fun day too, get some sun if you have access to the download.

for the love of goat

The pace of life moves along quickly. Before you know it things have happened. If nothing has happened then it's time to revisit things. Why not have some fun? Things are serious enough as it is. What are you up to right now?

In my case: I have been working on a new project because I fell over it. It jumped out at me while I was working on a crazy lampshade with knitted stuff for an open day of my local craft group. I have been drawing on crockery ever since the 'aha' befell me. It's plates, tea cups, coffee mugs, espresso cups and even a teapot that I have doodled with my goaties. In case you missed it: I'm a goat herder.

So after the goatie mayhem cranked up I sold all my ware on the open day! There were orders put in and I found myself drawing more crazy goaties. Knitting goaties, skipping rope goats, hugging goats, guitar playing goats; I decided the next step was a website and going to a market. The website will go live in the next few days.

So much to my surprise I will be having a stand at the next Milton Market which is Saturday the 7th of December. It's bound to be fun and busy! Come and see us and share a cup of tea.

Story telling

Midway through the story

we pause.

Try and rewind but no.

The story stops for certain.

What continuation there is

is simply what passes as time.

Segments. Phrases.

Blobs of words. Appear. Die. Live.

It's hard to say nowadays.

Letting words fall where they may.

Silence is my better friend.

All the shouting and screaming that went on

might as well have been in vain as the thoughts that raced before them.

Choosing the non-word seems sensible. Not even the visual,

not the sleep, not the sound. What remains, is. But what is it?

What does silence feel like?

What does it actually say?

easter matter

Less and less

is there a need for rituals

the refinement of existing in this place

is enough to move and be in joy.

The firmer the desire for anchoring

oneself to a requirement,

the more solely it serves the purpose of ego and false safety.

Quietude is the only thing that really sustains.

Listen to the space that envelops.

The stardust that whispers sweet nothings.

No easter egg can hold the richness

and the vastness of the Being discovered.

The easter bunny disappeared in the distance.

The cross that was borne is long cast.

A story unwritten only matters

as it newly takes shape in the soul right now.

today is the day

I consider every day to be the most important.

When cuddling my cat I hear her musings of content.

She only cares to be loved, to be warm, to be fed.

Simplicity and serenity lie in the arms of friendship. 

Being happy with what is

and rejoicing the love that is with us, today.

Some blessings are eternal, some are fleeting.

Whether we can find a friend or not: remember to purr every day.

the silence

words being said

that might as well have been unspoken

hanging

in the air, waiting and halted

then

erased by being obsolete

the story matters

more then the grammar.

I have chosen to wait

it can be more useful

to not say anything

but let the thought sit quietly

then softly

there's a breath of word released

a sound of being expressed

the tender unfolding of speech.

the sentences become

flowing in song

fluffy as goat hair

loving in caress once more.

the turkeys

In the light

the male turkeys dance

they prance and jest, they fluff and huff loudly

until one has had enough and turns round, dashing off

to some food that looks interesting

or to monitor a chook that is scurrying for worms

the lady turkeys

are busy too, two are nesting,

one other is young and restless

and one is recovering from a ferret wound

yet all reside in the green, looking happy

being together

in the here and now

where food is abundant and company plentiful

peace reigns

and the male turkeys gobble

looking up at the sun

shaking their feathers

poking up their fluffy bums to the sky

memo

Did you feel it?

That I love you.

Now and always.

My heart is your heart.

Our hearts are connected to the

Global Heart that is beating.

Hurting. Crying. Celebrating. Growing. Expanding.

A heart can do many things.

It beats evermore. It remembers.
We are all humans and are more the same then we are different.

The heart is strong

The heart is wise.

It will tell tales from truth

It will follow it's own strength

of you.

Of me.

Of all hearts. In time to come.

the two brothers

the two brothers walked

the two brothers talked.

there was silence.

worry spread over their faces.

one spoke the other listened.

more silence.

they changed positions so the other spoke

and the first one listened.

heads put together.

the sharing of nods and mood.

assessment of the situation

that was very grave indeed.

a conclusion was reached.

a proposal forged.

the moods lightened.

smiles came out as lunch was served.

blessed be

(for Margreet)

departure time

is timeless, although the death is timely

and soulprints are left on this earth

stored as memories below

walking her story on her ground

it had reached the final paragraph

and today, the epitaph.

I remember.

I recall the days I stayed

at your farmhouse for a number of days

and we spoke most..

in silence. The days I see as sunny.

You came to visit me today

and you looked well and are so happy.

Now that you are reunited with your love

and can walk your dog in peace once more.

And we weep not for those

who leave their bodies and continue

on the greatest marvel of a path

that stretches out in all directions. All at once.

Blessed be, lady of the woods.

I may see you again, another time.

the sword

the sword of Damocles hangs over you

yet you do not know it's tale.

What peril will befall you?

Prevail again you shall regardless.

beyond the sound of strife,

of old opulence and decay lies

the shining horizon of freedom,

thus hunger not to retain material gain.

splendid is she who can release the bonds

of angst and need. As required they are not.

He can speak the mind but needs to hold

the heart close. With your kin embraced.

fear not as you shall be 'fine',

as they say in this new world of being.

Walk the earth and be free to sing

your new song. And reborn in kind you shall be.

heart in my hand

It's okay

You don't have to do anything

Not say anything

Just be yourself with me.

I am tidying up

old remnants from my past

Seeing glimpses of what might be ahead

carrying my heart in my hands.

Many are afraid of pain

of the emotions raw and deep

cutting and piercing the skin.

I feel them inside as old friends visiting.

It's good to remember,

as I have done before: that all things pass.

The experience is always released,

old heartache transformed to joy once more

I depend on myself for support

I hold my own heart in my hands

I feel love is given to me

and am strong. Every day.

Goodbye

You talk

yet there is nothing left to say

Only things I have heard before

Like a washing machine left on the same setting.

I feel horrible for feeling it

but notice I haven't missed you. At all.

And it makes me sad for what once was.

But only for a moment.

I rather rejoice in what is, then what is in the past.

Everything has it's own time. This time is mine.

I wish you well and am now saying goodbye.

Feeling blessed with everything given to me.

grey mass

the grey mass

is not so grey after all

colour abounds there where neurons talk

spinning in a vast space of being

why consider it random

when it's hardly that. You do have vision,

direction, aim and fire in you,

in your head and in your heart.

the grey matter and the red matter (nerd speak)

ignite thoughts again, connecting stories

into being

so was the thought first, or you?

(image by Hugh Macleod - gapingvoid.com)

Mojo

Once the mojo is lost we are no better then zombies. Last Friday my mojo came back to me, they were drawing themselves bless them. They keep talking to me. It's a funny thing.

It's very simple: inhale goats. Poop love. Voila.

(This is the real life Nerada by the way..)

anyway... more to come:

Heh.

Relish the mojo, canoodle it with all your might. Then let it wonder the world.


Note: all drawings by me and only transmittable in public with prior written agreement. Thank you.

Pain

(for Reatha)

I drown out my own trembling voice

My child listens

she hears my cries

in the night. In the day.

And when the minutes slowly roll

by, the view turns a different shade

I can't see.

I can't feel.

Any warmth seems to have left me.

My heart has gone out.

Like the fire in the living room.

I poke around in the grey dead embers.

Where my vision once held me.

Comfort is now something of the past.

I close the curtains.

And think of my mother. And the blanket I hold dear.

How do we do it?

How do we cope with times like these?

Darkness creaks. My child is silent.

She brings me a drawing.

I look at a big yellow sun.

A cow. and a dog.

The pig roams the field happily.

There is a horizon. And us.

I put that drawing in my heart.

I make a new fire for us all.

Don't preach to me today.

Just keep me safe. Keep me warm.

Chicago

whatever drive and focus there is

another energy will push against it

yet duality is dissolving

and more people are

accessing the clouds.

sometimes we wonder why to

defend anything

or why to yield to someone or something stronger then us

especially when we feel it's wrong

and we seriously don't want to. Not anymore.

in Chicago strangers were

holding hands in the street

marching together and singing, of all ages.

Police officers were ordered

to restrain their views and their hands with force

yet the fiercer the commotion,

it forces the issue and more things to escalate,

those burned with pepper spray or hit with batons

are to be seen on social media their stories racing

through the Cloud untouched, spurring the sleeping to think.

a story only has meaning in the light

of what meaning you assign to it.
 Your perception becomes the version of events

and what action you take or do not undertake as a result,

it will reflect your true self to the world at large.

about the Chicago ProtesT; here and here 

after the NATO summit news: read here

photo by: Getty Images/Spencer Platt, source: CBSnews

humble pie

There's been a few times

I had to eat humble pie.

I've grown accustomed to the idea that

what I seemed adamant about isn't important now.

What do you base your life on

when there is no steady horizon?

when change is the only thing that's certain

and things can alter instantly.

I cut myself another slice of humble pie

it looks like cheesecake with jelly. (Not my favorite.)

Still I can eat it because I know I have to

and it doesn't affect my dna.

Humble pie.

I appreciate your wisdom and calories.

May you fill me up and keep me modest.

With a cherry on top.

 

gentle death

- Ode to Mientje -

dying can be done well

in peace and with a soft last breath

when we have the choice:

would you resist or release?

the time to depart

can be upon us all too soon

and when a friend leaves it's

both sad and a joy for they feel better

death is not an end

but a start of being free of burden

there's singing energy of light and friends

a bright coloured place awaits where play is joy

the golden light sits in our heart

and the returned knowing in our soul

if all death is, is simply changing form

then what is all the fuss about?

I look upon my friends face

she is no longer there but she did return home

Solitude

No room for usual babble.

I do not feel like catching up

with people who are no longer my friends.

Just leave me alone

I'm not feeling overly friendly toward humans.

My solitude is

one of kindness and sharing

with my animal friends.

Who do not jabber about trivial things.

But silently chew their cud and simply live their being.

My sweet equally

let's me be, and treads more softly

as he understands I have run out of social space.

Just let me be babe..

sitting in the grass looking at the stars, feeling happy.

Home is... where the heart is
and blessed are we who can find peace again, amidst the ruckus, in ourselves.