Monday, 31 August 2015

Monday

There was some sad news on the way to work. Another housefire in Brisbane, more lives lost. And then when I was driving to my Monday school, I passed a lot of areas where they have recently been burning off. It's a process every year of controlled burns to get rid of the dead leaves and undergrowth, to reduce the risk of fires. There was a lot of burned ground, trees slightly charred a few meters up their trunks.

But.

There was some green up the top. And in the charred ground, amongst the black, green. Grass growing again, rebirth. New life.

I bought a new candle on the way home, and some matches. The ones I had were... shockingly old and hard to use. Plus, shiny new candle! Bit, fat, and white... just like me :)

Another interesting meditation. I find that as I reach the point where my mind is calm, my tinnitus starts getting really loud. Interesting... and I'm not sure what it means, if anything.

I still don't know who she is.

She hides in the shadows.

Fire burns, but allows growth. It is a living thing.

Day One

I decided that I would record my journey of discovery, and as well as writing in on paper I thought I'd blog it as well. Totally high tech. It's also a record for myself, so I can see what happened, where I've been, and maybe work out where I'm going.

Big shout out to the BearCat combination that is helping me on my way!

I started on Sunday, with a very simple ritual meditation of sorts. My ritual, my way, using a spare candle.

Just as my mind was clearing, my muse spoke to me. At first I was a bit annoyed, although she was giving me some good advice for the CH project :) Then she started describing herself, which I did find interesting. (Posted below, for reference).

I asked for some space.
She obliged.

My question was simple. I asked for someone willing to guide me and give me strength. On further reflection though, I do wonder if my question was answered before I consciously asked it? I think, perhaps, it was. So I did some more thinking and reflecting. As much as I love (and sometimes hate) my muse, I don't know her name. But it is a step.

Reflections


My one true and lonely love
Who has always been
She who first breathed life into me
And She whose name I shall speak with my final breath
She holds me close on nights when dreams are dark
Brings peace and shows such beauty in the world
And when She leaves me alone I stand
Cursing her name
Declaiming her sins
Until She returns in burst of light
And I have found my darkness again
She is my light and my dark
She is my illness and health
She is my joy and my sorrow

She is my muse

And then she kept me up a bit at night, until I wrote the next piece.

Who are you, my muse? 
Who speaks to me, in the caverns of my mind
When all else is still
A whisper in the night
A voice to break the quiet

Who are you, to me?
I know not your name or shape
Nothing of who you are
I know only your embrace
I have never seen your face

Do I need a name?
To put chains around your form
Cage you in bars formed of words
Or should I let you be
Knowing you care for me