About My Journey Page 1

Bright Threads
(Threads from My Own Tapestry - Page 3)

By this time I was learning to hold an idea in my mind whilst allowing my hands to play. Solar Beings, the four elements, Earth, Air, Fire and Water, representations of love, joy, and of peace but also of pain of sorrow and of death.


Heaviness fills my heart,
And a sense of bitter emptiness surrounds me,
Deep and lonely,
Deep, dark and lonely.

Feelings well up unbidden
Drawing tears in their wake.
I feel my face set tight in a position of closure,
Holding in the pain
Making me feel separate.

No point in speaking,
Words are too clumsy to express things.
No point in trying to explain
The reality of the situation speaks for itself.

Two people standing on opposite banks of a river.
No point in their trying to shout
Above the roar of the water;
Anyway, the wind would carry the words away.
Lose them in the racing currents.

Better to wait,
Better wait
And face whatever comes next.
No guilt, only sorrow.

There is a smile deep down at the bottom of my cold dark well.
I can feel it
I know that it is there.

The smile is saying
O yes, it is cold and dark down here,
But soon the sun will be shining
And even down here I shall feel its warmth.



I stand at the threshold of darkness
At the door of the house of death,
And I watch you arrive in great anguish
Of heartbeat and labouring breath.

Much pain have you suffered to get here,
Pain of mind, pain of heart, pain of limb,
And I welcome each one at the threshold
Of the door where you all come in.

O I know of your fear of the darkness,
Of the monsters and demons who wait
In the shadows, to catch and torment you,
To play with their easy won bait.

And I know about hatred and anger,
About hearts that are bleeding and sore,
And I see how the greedy and powerful
Cause destruction through violence and war.

So don’t look at me now and shudder,
At the crone all dressed in black,
But rather look into your own soul,
At all that is hid in your sack.

For your sack is for you to carry,
And its contents are ever yours,
And you are the judge and the jury,
And you are the maker of laws.

For I will not judge or condemn you,
I just wait and show you the way,
and a gift of great value I offer
as you come to the end of your day.

Death as an end means beginning,
And beginning means life and rebirth,
It means morning and sunrise and freshness,
As spring brings new hope to the earth.

For the dark of the night is as blessed
As the light of the brightest day,
So watch for the deaths that you go through,
Each one in your own special way.

And know that I’m here to guide you
Through this dangerous and pain-filled land,
So trust me, and do not be frightened
Let go… and give me your hand.


All Things Come to Pass

Golden light of evening
Streams through darkened trees,
And silence sings the woodland song
To music of the breeze.

Another day has come and gone
Within this earthly class,
And gradually we come to learn
That all things come to pass.

Yet passing does not mean the end,
It means a moving on,
As quiet moonlight fills the space
Where once the sun had shone.

And even as the deepest night
Unfolds the darkest hour,
The light is getting ready
To shine on tree and flower.

So as the light is shining
Throughout your happy day,
Remember that the darkness
Is not so far away.

And when the dark enfolds you,
Making all seem sad and blue,
Don't forget the light is waiting
For its turn to shine on you.


It was as if through the medium of writing and creative imagery I was able to externalise and give form to my inner journey. At the time I was running a B&B which meant a lot of hard work but I have found that everyday duties somehow offer structure and grounding to an intensely sensitive and emotional soul.


The everyday rhythm
Of life gives us

The rising in the morning
The duties of the day,
The setting in the evening and the quiet rest of night
Give our lives a pattern
A shape by which to live.

Without these things the ordinary man would flounder
in the sea of openness.

My Rock

Rock bottom lies my anchor,
Embedded in the stone,
So deep and true and solid
It holds the sway alone.

Truth shall forge the metal
From the stuff of everyday,
And hold me still amidst the waves
Which crash in foam and spray.

At times the powerful currents
Of the tides which rise and fall,
Would sweep me in their passion
Out of depth and out of call.

But even though I’m battered
And pulled from side to side,
My anchor holds me steady
Through the fierce and changing tide.

Truth is that still small voice in me
That tells of right and wrong,
Enables me to risk and trust,
To join in life’s own song.

There is something about writing down one’s thoughts that creates a very particular energy. That very act of honouring one’s thoughts enough to write them down creates a bridge, a passage, a thread that we can follow like Ariadne in the labyrinth, right into the heart of the mystery hidden within our very own soul. Sometimes the demands of everyday life make it hard to put aside that time …..

Holy Water

Find yourself a place of silence
Somewhere peaceful
Somewhere green

Somewhere where the soul can rest and
Hear the voice of things unseen.

Sit and listen to the river,
Listen to that endless song
Of stones and wind and timeless water
Sweet and pure yet clear nd strong.

and let it flow inside you,
Feel the cool and cleansing sound
Wash away the dusty cobwebs
Clearing for more holy ground.


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