Night is peace, freedom, it has a magic that opens up once the sun sets; the last ray of sun ignites imagination as the dark hours replace the light. Everything fires up as distractions cease to be a torment in the soft unfolding of night. It only increases as the darkness sinks deeper, bolder as the shadows and silence creeps out making other sounds magnified and intriguing. The whole nocturnal world wakes up, with the living beings, the mind, all a part of the opening dark, ideas and inspiration rise; as the shufflers and creepers move their secret way through the darkness, so too do the creatures of the mind, wake and tumble, lead and tease and intrigue. The night walkers slink by. Memory shifts and connects, long nights, horror nights.
The night seems longer than the day, filled with strangeness and presences and senses keen, picking up the movement of possibilities. Inner and outer come alive and meld and cast magic everywhere. Dreams come and seem more real, more possible. Night dreams our coming day and we make our lives from such wanderings and experimentings. Night saves us, soothes us, it re-energizes all the life we have lost in living; it loosens minds and dreams and imaginings.
Night is the time to relax, open up, shut out the distraction of the too-heavy day, the too-much- with us time; night is looser, more fluid, it lets us be. Night is the infinite speaking silently. Night is an endless ocean of possibility, limitless and free.
Night is my element, I dive in, slide into the soft depths and wander where I will, having shook off the hard edges of day and its endless stresses and distractions, the softer dark lulls and I connect with the wisdom of creative soul, words and images come alive. The infinite awakens.
Just read an article on TruthTheory about a leaked video from a Pharm Testing Lab in Germany. The article explains what happened. I couldn’t watch the video, the article was bad enough. Huge respect to the courageous person who infiltrated and got the horrific evidence. I cannot imagine how gut-wrenching and heart-breaking it must have been. A real hero.
This is such a horrendous place, an animal hell; it is so evil and wrong that places like this exist, it needs closing down now.
There is a petition to demand that at Change please pass it on..
It’s your birthday and I wake up thinking of you, but you are not here.
I wonder what you would be doing now….what we’d be doing for your birthday, everyone getting together but there’ll be no birthday fun, no gathering, you are not here..
Only absences remain, all the people-shaped spaces I move through, only ghosts, breathing through the passing, distant years, as I remain while so many are gone.
I see people you were at school, college, with and though cruel, I stare at them with anger and think, why are you still here?? How come you have endured?? It’s not their fault, but when I see them it emphasizes your loss, your departure too soon, our togetherness cheated, while they are still here, so alive, all this time when you are gone so long and the age-old whine comes, ‘it’s not fair’ which makes me cringe even as I think it because I know too well that life is not fair, so not fair, yet still the words spit into my mind, pointless, impotent and hollow; because you are not here.
Your name engraved in the metal, frozen forever never looked right; it jarred, never seemed real, not the you I grew up with, not the you I lived with, got drunk with, went out with, laughed with, cried with; this was someone else, some imposter, some other you, but still you are not here.
Flickering memories filter in and out through the day, sneaking their way in as I move through this present moment, all we shared, all we endured, all we lost, rises up in me like an old film, playing over and over, the good and the bad, the game playing out.
As I watch the chem-trails seep across the sky, swallowing all the blue, as the death-cult madness digs in ever deeper in this spiritual war I can’t escape or ignore, today I think of you, of us, our stumblings through life, all we didn’t know, but the love and togetherness that’s not lost, cannot be lost even though you are not here.
Everyone loses those they love, that’s life; people, animals, all die in the end. Everyone thinks their loss is greater, harder because it’s theirs and for each of us it is; we can’t escape it, can’t pass it on, it’s ours to carry for the rest of our journey and we live with those no longer here.
You are gone, but you were, you are, part of each other always because everything is part of everything…..and I know this, but…..you are not here and I miss you.
This is a great animal sanctuary in Norfolk, here in the UK. They care for thousands of animals, they are amazing, and in a recent newsletter there was this piece about two recently rescued horses and it was so moving and beautifully expressed, I wanted to share it. I wish so many more people could feel this way.
(I hope it is okay to read, as I had to photograph it, as my scanner isn’t working, not as good but hopefully readable!!)
fragile, soft being in my hands, splinter feet clutch my finger, uncertain eyes
look around, blink slowly in shock. Holding this life in my hands I just stare
at it. A small creature pulses there, who only moments before had been prone in
a cat’s jaws, a bite from death, its ending set to follow so soon after its
beginning; the first day of freedom, of flight, it sinks, dropping, into the mouth
of death. What conceived of that torment, so cruel, so cynical? But I was there
too, so what strange force beyond my ken drew me in? I had to go out, would’ve
done normally, but decided against it. Strange randomness? Fate? Some intuitive
guidance, beyond conscious knowledge? Some external force, connected,
participating or sheer blind luck?
moments get under my skin, these uncanny synchronicities, these events and actions
that turn or hang on such tiny fragments. One moments difference and the whole
world can be changed, reality turned upside down, a slip through the mirror. If
I had gone out, if I’d gone upstairs, if I just happened not to have been
sitting by the window to catch the sudden movement from the corner of my eye,
the dark shape dropping by, any one of a range of decisions and the fledgling’s
fate would have been sealed. The fact it all happened so quickly, that we were
all there, colliding in that one ponderous, stretched moment, me, fledgling, cat, that is the ungraspable
strangeness. Now it was in my hands, the cat looking on, aware he had been
cheated but not committed enough to pursue it. So we all had our parts to play,
all connected. Life, death, the leap between, the gap that always waits. In
such tiny flickers do lives unspool.
The bird was only a part, I had been hanging on this my whole life. This web of events, time, place, space, the way things hinged on such seemingly chance encounters and minute choices and turns of fate. What was behind it all, anything or nothing? These uncanny coincidences, weird hunches, feelings of something invisible going on you could almost grasp, but not quite. That the thread between life and death could hang on such seemingly banal and inconsequential things, so every moment, every decision, down to the smallest detail, could have repercussions way beyond what you were aware of, setting in motion all manner of connections and outcomes, stuck in my thoughts, and the more I wondered about them, the more they seemed to show themselves. Things coincided, for good or bad; whether it was all meant or just chaos, there was the rub. The drop was there, always. The failure to take flight, to fall, the cat’s pounce, the lifting hands, because everything is connected, the web runs through everything. Maybe there is nothing there, no watcher, no awareness, nothing, but maybe there is? Maybe it is all the result of our own energetic influence. All is there, so much more than is visible, but the eyes need to be cleansed.
So, as the fledgling fell, was it aware of its mistake? Its descent into possible, probable death; its chance failed, its jump doomed, as it all went wrong, as it felt itself tumbling, spinning out of control, did it expect death? Did it fear, did it surrender, did it know what was happening was wrong, is flight felt inside, even when not mastered, was it aware of what might ensue? So it plummeted, but its horror was not yet over, as it reached the ground only to be greeted by the mouth of a predator. What a terrifying moment, to be so tiny and plunging, endlessly plunging, to the unknown hard ground, only to be grabbed by a huge creature, who grasps you in its mouth, pinned, unable to move, a wing each side, prone in sad parody of the flight that failed you; this dark beast carrying you, the smell of its breath all around you; did it seem to last a lifetime, this change of fortune in a blink? Born into your nest, safe, cared for by parents, to grow, protected and then, on your first day of freedom, of trying to claim your element, disaster strikes, twice, in swift succession. It must have seemed all over. Only just as swiftly, an even larger being looms and takes you. What does it mean? You’re shocked, breathless, panting, but slowly realize, as you calm, whatever holds you does so softly, gently; your breathing eases, you are alive.
all happened so fast and now everything is still. Strange but still, a settling
after ripples in the sway of things. The longer it goes on, the calmer you become,
you open your eyes wider and the world comes back. Your life rises. What had
seemed hopeless, the end of everything, drowning you, has run away like water
down a drain. You smell the soft breeze, you hear other birds, so close,
chattering. You find the energy to move, testing your body, curl your scrawny
feet around this living animal branch that carries you. Such occurrences step out
of time into the no-time, and out of the dark pulse of fear that consumed you,
air and light enter. You feel the essence of the day around you, feel the wind,
the trees, the sky, calling you and you find your voice and answer. Then I am
sure you will be okay.
wander to the old apple tree, open my hands wider, let you see and feel the
branches and leaves around you. Reaching up to a safe branch I ease you on to the
tree and you grasp on keenly but then you freeze, you seem afraid and I offer
my hand again and you return, breathe, glance around, but only for a few
moments, then you are ready, grasping the tree once more, moving swifter now. I
back off but keep watch. You begin to move around, call for your family,
gaining confidence as you go, jumping from branch to branch, fluttering, almost
flying. You’re nearly there. A second chance. I pull farther and farther back,
trying to keep you in sight, you are so small, so vulnerable yet a strength
moves through you. You become part of the tree, almost invisible; you move
easily now, moving higher and then you fly, your perfect wings lift you and
lead you. Life embraces you.
Sometimes the space between life and death is tiny, it is so easy to fall in, one step is all it takes. We all fall, nearly fall, brush by, sometimes we feel the potential waiting, how easily it could all disappear, but until then we move, each moment a myriad different choices moving us on to the next branching choices, on and on. So life turns in the living. Who knows what the interaction of one life with another means? Our dream of life goes on and so does the fledgling’s, as its path diverges from one fate to another. Who knows what that bird’s presence in the world means? Maybe we are forever connected, a life marked by another, bound. Who knows what stories the birds tell each other and how they understand their presence amongst ours and what we mean to each other? Who knows how lives cross over, interact and impact on one another? All is energy, vibration, and what runs through me, runs through the bird and the cat. We influence more than we realize, we create more than we know, but too many focus on chaos, violence and death, drowning the world in darkness, bringing the fall of falls closer, more likely. If only more people understood the nature of reality and the impact all this suffering has, maybe we could turn the tide; maybe, but it seems each day the potential, ultimate fall grows ever nearer.
Every bird I see is that bird, taking its
chance; all of us just taking our chance, one step, one second at a time, all
the same. We fall, we rise; sometimes we are saved, sometimes we save and sometimes
there is only falling and no way out of it, but who knows where it ends?
I still see the fledgling, all grown up now
and will always remember the small drama that unfolded on a timeless morning between
a bird, a cat and a person. So life is made of such stories and we need to wake
up, take more notice and create better stories.