Many moons, many thoughts

Don't know whether to laugh or cry 🤣🤣

That's all I have to say!...

I live next to the north sea...

Bloody fog horns!

Every bastard 120 seconds!😡 

(Yes I did time it!!)

How absolutely rude!!

I am not impressed with the location my work has taken me!!

I am absolutely FUCKING FUMING!!!

Morning meditation is not happening today at all... So I give all fair warning. The dragon will appear today!

FUCK IT...FUCK IT ALL UP!  BUT DO IT WITH A WHOLE HEART 💜

At least I will give it my ALL!!

My SOLSTICE WISH 

My wishes for you all this year is this..

may your feet (and your heart) always be warm,

Don't let the way of this world make you feel cold.

That you know how strong you are and that you stop doughting.

That you are able to feel at-home, safe and loved inside your own skin.

That you find your purpose in life and you go for it with everything that you are

You are here for a reason.

That you make time to enjoy every little thing in life, breathe them in...

Surround yourself with good people, bright souls that make you feel wanted and loved.

Know you are worth Loving exactly as you are dear friends.

I pray you can lift your heart your spirits the most darkness of days.

To remember your wisdoms of times gone past and your gaining of knowledge

For Courage so you may be strong enough to become vunrable again to love and life.

With love of heart and mind of spirt these are my prayers for you all.

Blessings this solstice

❄️✨💜🕯️💜✨❄️

Late addition..

So the shortest day came, and the year died,

And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world

Came people singing, dancing,

To drive the dark away.

They lighted candles in the winter trees;

They hung their homes with evergreen;

They burned beseeching fires all night long

To keep the year alive,

And when the new year’s sunshine blazed awake

They shouted, reveling.

Through all the frosty ages you can hear them

Echoing behind us—Listen!!

All the long echoes sing the same delight,

This shortest day,

As promise wakens in the sleeping land:

They carol, feast, give thanks,

And dearly love their friends,

And hope for peace.

And so do we, here, now,

This year and every year.

Welcome Yule

Author~ Susan Cooper

Dear Santa...

I know I have not written to you since I was 5 yrs old. 

I know you don't know me so I'll keep it short but I am in the spirt of things festive and all things that twinkle.

so with this in mind I will say that I've been a very good naughty girl this yr below is a picture of lastest want..

Ps..any instructions of use would be most welcome..

In Having a lover or friend who regards you as a magical living growing beautiful being, just as much as the roses grow in the garden or trees from the ground.

Having a lover and friends who look at you as a true living breathing entity, one that is human but made of very fine and magical things as well..

These are the people you are looking for. They will be the friends of your spirt in life.

Mindful choosing of friends and lovers, not to mention teachers, is critical to remaining conscious, remaining intuitive, remaining in charge of the fiery light that sees and knows and feels.

Ita a unique place of love and exceptance with no indifference just space for us to grow and to explore our hearts and minds desires.

This i believe is in all walks of life no matter what lifestyle we choose to live.

We have a chance to make up are own tribes not ones we are born into but of like minded people who have the same values, honor, respect for life that we carry.

Blessings 💜💜💜

Twas the night before Yuletide and all through the glen

Not a creature was stirring, not a fox, not a hen.

A mantle of snow shone brightly that night

As it lay on the ground, reflecting moonlight.

The faeries were nestled all snug in their trees,

Unmindful of flurries and a chilly north breeze.

The elves and the gnomes were down in their burrows,

Sleeping like babes in their soft earthen furrows.

When low! The earth moved with a thunderous quake,

Causing chairs to fall over and dishes to break.

The Little Folk scrambled to get on their feet

Then raced to the river where they usually meet.

“What happened?” they wondered, they questioned, they probed,

As they shivered in night clothes, some bare-armed, some robed.

“What caused the earth’s shudder? What caused her to shiver?”

They all spoke at once as they stood by the river.

Then what to their wondering eyes should appear

But a shining gold light in the shape of a sphere.

It blinked and it twinkled, it winked like an eye,

Then it flew straight up and was lost in the sky.

Before they could murmur, before they could bustle,

There emerged from the crowd, with a swish and a rustle,

A stately old crone with her hand on a cane,

Resplendent in green with a flowing white mane.

As she passed by them the old crone’s perfume,

Smelling of meadows and flowers abloom,

Made each of the fey folk think of the spring

When the earth wakes from slumber and the birds start to sing.

“My name is Gaia,” the old crone proclaimed

in a voice that at once was both wild and tamed,

“I’ve come to remind you, for you seem to forget,

that Yule is the time of re-birth, and yet…”

“I see no hearth fires, hear no music, no bells,

The air isn’t filled with rich fragrant smells

Of baking and roasting, and simmering stews,

Of cider that’s mulled or other hot brews.”

“There aren’t any children at play in the snow,

Or houses lit up by candles’ glow.

Have you forgotten, my children, the fun

Of celebrating the rebirth of the sun?”

She looked at the fey folk, her eyes going round,

As they shuffled their feet and stared at the ground.

Then she smiled the smile that brings light to the day,

“Come, my children,” she said, “Let’s play.”

They gathered the mistletoe, gathered the holly,

Threw off the drab and drew on the jolly.

They lit a big bonfire, and they danced and they sang.

They brought out the bells and clapped when they rang.

They strung lights on the trees, and bows, oh so merry,

In colors of cranberry, bayberry, cherry.

They built giant snowmen and adorned them with hats,

Then surrounded them with snow birds, and snow cats and bats.

Then just before dawn, at the end of their fest,

Before they went homeward to seek out their rest,

The fey folk they gathered ‘round their favorite oak tree

And welcomed the sun ‘neath the tree’s finery.

They were just reaching home when it suddenly came,

The gold light returned like an arrow-shot flame.

It lit on the tree top where they could see from afar

The golden-like sphere turned into a star.

The old crone just smiled at the beautiful sight,

“Happy Yuletide, my children,” she whispered. “Good night.” 

Poem author C.C. Williford.

 Again and again I am pulled down. 

Pulled down by creatures of pain and rocked by tears of loss. 

When I give in to the pull I remember that these are just love in masks.

I let gravity pull me close to the earth, 

until she swallows me 

and then I can rest there amongst the roots and fungi and earth worms 

in the richness from which all life rises. 

I let it work on me. 

I let the small dark murmuring creatures of soil take me apart until I am indistinguishable from the land

Until I lose the boundaries of my pain, of my grief Of my body, of my identity. 

My tears become the rain, trickling through the soil and bringing prayers to the seeds in my heart.

Some people are mountains I tell them 

but I am a cave, deep and dark 

but I may just hold a diamond.

💜🕊️💜

Give me laugh lines and wrinkles 

I want proof of the jokes we shared 

engrave the lines into my face like 

the roots of a tree that grow deeper 

with each passing year 

I want sunspots as souvenirs 

for the beaches we laid on 

I want to look like i was 

never afraid to let the world 

take me by the hand 

and show me what it’s made of 

I want to leave this place knowing 

I did something with my body

Blessings 💜💜💜

What a way to start a Monday morning..

Might brake the boiler every Sunday night now!😈

My fantasy...

My reality!! 🤣