My inner castle holds . . .

My inner castle holds . . . by ArtfulAlchemist on Polyvore.com

My inner castle holds
ancient wounds
and ancient histories
mysteries
older than the sands of time

I came here with my work boots on
to dig down through
the timeworn layers
of the pyramid self
back down to the bones
the ancient circle of standing stones
my origins
my Truth

Most masks have fallen away
yet still today
secrets lie
behind fortressed gates
waiting for me
to turn the key
and set the child
completely free

My Wild Things,
benevolently and loosely ruled,
have found a place
to safely roam
their color and form
dancing through unlined pages
filling book after book
with my own
Sacred Story

Now
for every fallen or broken heart
I find a dozen more in the sand
and the one that beats
in my chest is bound
and balanced
dancing between
the falling apart
and the coming together
destruction and creation
and all of it Love

In the end
which is the beginning
what remains is the sea
and the ever blooming tree
that is Life

~Claire, the Artful Alchemist

My Brain Hurts

my brain hurts by ArtfulAlchemist featuring Miss Selfridge rings

Anybody else feeling this struggle?

When you have about 20 minutes to spare, check out this video on Ted.com: Jill Bolte Taylor's Stroke of Insight for some fabulous insight on the workings of the right brain after a stroke incapacitates the left brain.

I'm not advocating giving up the left brain altogether, however I'm all for more right brain function in the world!

Parched

Parched by ArtfulAlchemist on Polyvore.com

"When the heart is hard and parched up, come upon me with a shower of mercy. When grace is lost from life, come with a burst of song. When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides shutting me out from beyond, come to me, my lord of silence, with thy peace and rest. When my beggarly heart sits crouched, shut up in a corner, break open the door, my King, and come with the ceremony of a king. When desire blinds my mind with delusion and dust, O thou Holy one, thou Wakeful, come with Thy Light and Thy Thunder."
— Rabindranath Tagore

What My Soul Knows

What My Soul Knows by ArtfulAlchemist on Polyvore.com

what my soul knows

there is a part of me
that is timeless and eternal
there is a part of me
that lives among the stars
there is a part of me
that knows what is written
in the book of my soul
there is a part of me
that sends me Light
constantly
despite my lack of awareness
there is a part of me
that knows every experience
is about transformation
and soul growth
there is a part of me
that knows
Love is stronger than anything
there is a part of me
that knows
I am loved
I am loved
I am
Love

Nesting

As women, we tend to be good "nesters." We are the keepers of home and hearth, the moms, the nurturers. We create a comfortable nest for those we love. We also create a comfortable nest for our dreams - feathering it just so, admiring the egg(s) we place there to germinate and gestate. Every so often, we take out one of our dream eggs, blow the dust off of it and sigh with longing, imagining what it would be like to live that dream life. The problem is that we're such good "nesters" we may never allow our dream eggs to hatch. We grow so enamored of the egg - the idea, the dream, the ideal - that we avoid the hard work of birthing.

You've all heard the expression, "you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs," right? Well, you can't birth your dream(s) without letting the shell crack open. There is a time for gestation and a time for birth - action, forward motion, risk, adventure, unfolding. Don't hold your dreams so close that they become stillborn.

Here is an art piece and a poem that captures this idea. Actually, it's what triggered this blog post . . .

Nesting by ArtfulAlchemist featuring Miss Selfridge rings

genesis
by Claire M. Perkins

behold!

dawn's prism fractures the night
spills color and life
through your once dark world
reveals what's been
too long hidden
beneath your ruffled breast

it is time, Little One

warm your nest no longer
stand aside and
reveal its gem-laden mystery
allow the shattering shell
to scatter its jewels
they are but dull paste
to the genesis that awaits
~~~