Finding peace in the twisty maze

If I was to sit only in this moment, this precise moment ...

where Banshee looks so cute scavenging through the grass for a morsel of vegetables I scattered only moments before

where the gates play a tune harmonising with the wind chimes, accompaniment to the birds in the distance and the whirring of a helicopter not even in view

where the shadows of leaves dance in and out of time to the orchestra of nature all around

where I taste every bean grounded as I take a long pleasurable sip of my coffee

where I can practically hear the lemons chanting to each other "You jump, no you jump, no you first"

where the toot of a train travels on the breeze as a tiny leaf somersaults over my head, pirouettes against a beautiful blue backdrop of sky and playfully tumbles to the waiting blanket of grass

where the low rhythmic beat of a bass drum entices the wind to get stronger

where there is so much quietly happening as a dragonfly lands to visit on one of the perfectly laid bricks upon which my table and chair are sitting ...

If I was to sit only in this moment, this precise moment ...

there is no worrying but rather an appreciation for the flock of birds passing over the yard

there is no missing a love that is not mine yet but rather observation of new growth on my lettuces

there is no resentment but rather a gratefulness for the intermittent breeze that cools a hot skin

there is no sadness but rather a smile at Banshee's wagging tail and snort for attention.

If I were to stay in this moment, this precise moment ...

then the stress of "whatever" would only be relevant in a moment yet to be, rather than an impediment to every other moment and would not distract me from the joy of this moment ...

... this moment where I am aware of ...

the tingling in my toes

the movement of my arms as my pen writes

the moisture as my tongue licks my lips

the energy in my body from the fruit recently enjoyed

the soft rubbing of my hair as the wind blows it across my shoulders

the panting of a puppy so happy to have me sitting exactly where I am ...

in this precise moment.

If I could practice being in the moment, every moment, then life would be less complicated, less worrisome, less stressful and move to a life of appreciation, wonder and gratitude for "what is" and if I, for a moment, let myself "think" about that, then I think I like the idea of such a life.

And the miner bird with the iridescent orange beak that just landed on my fence, joined by the throaty chorus of the pigeon that just perched on my roof, agree.

Peace.

(c) Dianne Traynor   20 October 2012

I turned ... and there I was ...

Writing - and quite possibly dialogue, or posts, on social websites now I come to think of it -  can be:

Translucent and yet clouded

Touching and yet divorced

Enlightening and yet dark

Imaginery and yet real

Resonating and yet totally separated

I keep thinking of how something will inspire me to write a particular piece and it can be so very different as to how it may be interpreted.  I remember poetry I have read of another and how it was so easy for me to internalise it, feel myself there, imagine that I knew what this person went through and feel all manner of joy .. or sadness .. or compassion .. and yet, honestly, I do not have a clue as to what actually inspired them to write that particular piece.  That is their secret, their moment, their inner voice that only they can truly understand.

What may be read as a dark passage may be nothing of the sort in reality, what is read as a broken heart by a unrequited love may actually be a piece drawn on emotions through a painful family experience; what one person may read as a poem about desperation - another may read as a poem about love - another hope - another hopelessness ... it is all so very personal, and therein lays the magic.

For me, given my passionate association with expression through the written word, it is all about triggers. Words are the triggers to our emotions, the light switch to a memory, the candle flickering in the subconscious, the rope to hang onto, the ladder to climb and see a new view, the passage from one room to another, the doorway into a new world, the escape hatch from reality, the touch that can make us feel less alone, the laughter that can lighten the load and the resonation that brings hope that someone "gets" us.

In my private world, writing is truth drawn from the purest well .. no hidden agenda, no need to hold back, no desire to mislead, no expectation and no coat of armour .. it is where I can dive deep, swim with sharks and remain totally vulnerable, open to all possibility and live without fear.  It is heaven in a cup of piping hot coffee, sipped on a porch, talking to the moon and wishing upon the stars.  It is home.

If anything I write touches another then I am humbled, for it makes me feel a sense of contribution. If a reader can draw strength, laughter, a sense of association or love - or merely be taken to a "moment", I consider this a gift and I feel blessed.  But the "truth" in the writing is the truth of the writer alone, and although it may resonate with another's truth, that is because it has merely been a trigger into their own world not the private world of the writer .. and therein lays the mystery.

When it comes to dialogue, or posts, on social websites there are definite similarities and I am often perplexed how people who have never met another can assume to know why that person posted something.  Sure, sometimes it may appear clear cut .. other times not so much.  It is at these times, I find it quite amazing how, though no lengthy dialogue has taken place, some presume to know another and to offer uninvited advice that may actually be quite the opposite to what is required. Personally I think this is a breach of boundaries but then that is the internet, where it appears boundaries have become blurred.  As for how I react in this scenario; well, sometimes I find it annoying, sometimes amusing, sometimes I take no notice and other times I want to snap back "Don't assume!"  More often than not, I will distance myself for a while and write.

So back to writing and the art of passionate expression.  I would describe it as an amazingly honest, free floating world with no boundaries, no limits and where anything is possible.  All the elements of the real world are there .. sunshine, rain, love, betrayal, demons, angels, war, victory, disappointment, heartbreak, oceans, deserts, life, death and so much more .. and yet it is an entirely different world altogether.  It is a world of truth; truth in that moment .. when the mind sends signals through the body to the pen that draws from the heart .. and in that moment, there is no earthly reality ... only magic.

And, today, as I turned .. there I was .. and I gave thanks for the magic.

(c) Dianne Traynor  16 October 2012

Twists and turns of excitement!

My first poetry is collection - a combination of poetry and wonderful photography courtesy of talented friends - is now available for purchase .. how exciting is that!?!

If you are interested, and I sincerely hope you are, please visit my author website

http://sbpra.com/DianneTraynor

At this stage, it available through the publishers direct as per the website and also through Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble.com (links on the site)

I hope you will visit and I thank you for visiting my blog

Namaste, Dianne

Turn around ... and see ...

I found myself this morning thinking back to an event of nearly twelve months ago.

It was an exciting time, I was immersed in a writing course with The Writer's Studio and thoroughly enjoying myself, more than I could ever have imagined.  I was planning to submit some of my poetry to a publisher in the States and was so proud of myself for facing the fear of doing so.  I was sharing some of my writing on Facebook and was living in such gratitude for the feedback I was receiving that was encouraging me to move forward and follow my dream.

Then it happened .. someone stole one of my pieces, placed it on their wall with my name changed to theirs pretending the words came from them.  I was heartbroken, devastated and so disappointed in human nature.  I wrote a short piece for the writing course called "Life Sucks" and posted it on my wall, I deleted all my poetry for fear of that being stolen too .. in other words I reacted from a place of fear and I hid.  I even deleted my blog called Old Souls where I was enjoying posting my work.  This person had not only stolen my words, they had stolen my joy of sharing, they had stolen my enthusiasm and they had opened the door to a dark hall of fear.

At the time, Facebook friends wrote comments like:

"I think you should be excited that someone is stealing your writing"

"Name and Shame??"

"Expose them for stealing your work and comment " thank you for sharing my work""

"And her friends, some she had never met, felt her pain. The sickening feeling of intrusion, of helplessness ..."

but I could not be consoled, until I received a piece of feedback from one of the other course participants, that said ..

"I had an ex who was a writer and he would share his stories rather freely. I asked him wasn't he scared they would steal his ideas and he told me flatly no ... his story was always his story and anyone that stole it would never be able to carry the load because within him lay the foundation and the key"

These words kept playing in my head, over and over, they resonated on such a deep level and woke up the writing warrior within who was happy to face fear head on and do battle.  And so I returned to post more pieces and trust in the well of words that live in the garden of my mind.

When faced with disappointment, we must turn around and see the bigger picture.  This is not always easy to do but thankfully, whether it be friends or perhaps even a stranger, there is always someone to rock your frozen feet and spin you in the right direction if you keep an open heart.

 

And so the lesson for me to learn was that a waterfall cannot be stolen, an entire garden cannot be stolen.  Someone might steal a flower or drink from the fountain uninvited but their pleasure will be temporary, whereas you live in that garden, you nurture it and watch it flourish, you shower in the waterfall and embrace its gentle caress, you breath it ...

YOU ARE THE GARDEN ... YOU ARE THE WATERFALL ...

and the only way that can be stolen from you is if you allow someone to place you in fear. 

The truth of the turnaround is simple ... the more you share, the more flowers that bloom, the energy of the waterfall increases and you are surrounded by your own private place of beauty that no-one can ever steal from you.

So this morning, I give my most heartfelt thanks to those much wiser than myself who cared enough to turn me around to see.

(c) Dianne Traynor 12 October 2012

Taking a stroll through the twisted corners of my mind ..

I have not visited for a while, there has been much going on.  But today I thought I might take a stroll on the page and merely rattle off some random thoughts that have been twisting and turning through my somewhat strange mind at times.

I find myself questioning the theory that what we give out is what comes back to us.  I want to believe this is true to an extent; however I see so much contradiction of this very statement.  I witness selfish people receiving accolades and riches, living life seemingly without a care in the world whilst at the same time I witness selfless people receiving heartache and hardship.  Why? Surely in the giving people are not deliberately drawing pain to themselves?

I am not sure where I stand on this whole thing.  To remain positive is not always easy when faced with trial upon trial upon trial and yet this is what we are told to do.  Pure chanting or repeating of a mantra is not enough to "believe" deep down in your soul; it has to be a part of your being, it must coarse through your veins on a constant basis but how do we start the flow? Is it as simple as an acceptance that this is what it is all about?  I remember as a child always being told "When you are not happy with your shoes, think of the man with no feet" .. an early lesson in gratitude for what is I guess but I am not sure that this is how it should be.  Yes be grateful, no question there but surely it is okay to wish for more, to want better for yourself and for those you love and to question why what is, is.  I am not referring to self pity or wallowing, merely a healthy questioning. Surely it is through questioning that we get answers, that we find a way when all avenues seem blocked to us, that we reach out and seek .. and is not life all about the seeking?

Then there is the "live in the now" train of thought.  This one I actually subscribe to for I believe that every moment is a moment we cannot return to, as much as we may try.  If someone is loving me in this moment then I am going to embrace it with all that I have for there may not be another one.  If a dragonfly comes to visit, I am going to give thanks and watch him for a while for who knows when he will return to my garden.  If the breeze is speaking to me upon my cheek, I am going to close my eyes and listen for there is much wisdom in the quiet.  Yes, I definitely subscribe to living in this moment.  It may be all we have.

What about the ego debate? That we cannot reach another level of consciousness  until we release the ego.  That everything fear based is ego driven.  Is the fear of not being able to meet your bills, due to lack of income, ego based? Is the fear of not being able to provide warmth and shelter for your family ego based? I don't think so.  And the strangest thing that I have noticed is that all the "experts" writing on this theory are living wealthy comfortable lives with lots of shiny toys, holiday homes, fancy cars and inviting the individuals seeking inner growth to come stay at their "resort" .. for a rather fat fee of course.  If you were already in a state of wealth, and truly wanted to help people, would you continue to charge what those who truly need your help could not possibly afford? If your motives were completely altruistic and pure that is.

Sometimes,I think I see life too simply.  I watch some beautiful souls absolutely giving of themselves and helping those less fortunate and my admiration is immeasurable.  I see others feeding off the desperation of others, standing idly by or, even worse, being completely ignorant of others' suffering and I feel a kind of numbness toward them.  There is no anger anymore, just a questioning of the differences in human nature.

Hhhmm, this has been a deep stroll for a Sunday morning .. it must be time for coffee and to feel that breeze upon my cheek :)

Namaste, Dianne

Turns that keep you standing still

Termination letter

Dear Anger and Disappointment

It's time for you to leave.  I'm sorry but now you serve no purpose other than to distract me from what makes me happy.  You paralyse me from moving forward and following those passions that bring me joy.

I know you have good reason to exist, there is no doubt about it, but the fact that you exist will not change what or who you wish would change.  Things and people are what they are, and no eruption on your part will even raise a ripple of effect upon them.  So it is best, for me, that you move along.

Oh don't look at me that way!  I will not forget the events that have occurred but I can make a deliberate strike and fling them to the back of my mind, freeing up the bay windows to my heart that you currently occupy.  How strange that in allowing you to visit, you have actually become an accomplice to those that gave you life.

You and I both know your services should only ever have been on a short term contract; and the fact of the matter is, quite simply, you have outstayed your welcome.  Your company has become tiresome; I want a rest from you and your associates.

Thank you for helping through a difficult time and for giving me a voice; it was both necessary and healing, but your work here is done.  As much as you would like to have changed others, you cannot; but you have helped me see things more clearly.  Good job, go enjoy a well deserved holiday.

Yours Sincerely  

(c) Soasm 24 July 2012 

 

Spinning madness, blurring beauty

Ever feel like you're on a spinning wheel and each time you think it's slowing down to let you off, it suddenly jolts and a whole new cycle of the ride starts up? You get so dizzy with decision making and you reach out to grasp a hand because you feel your body can't take much more but the hand is either not there, or it's really not a steady one and lets you go rather than help you.

I'm not sure the mind is designed to cope with constant pressure (or that could just be mine) and so it wanders off seeking escape.  You could find it leading you to have one too many cigarettes, an extra glass of wine, doing something out of character, fighting an internal war, erecting barriers of protection that others may see as unreasonable, or even sending pain to a part of your body just to take itself away from itself for a while.  In all the madness there will be a little part of you that fights a secret battle to maintain sanity and it will surface every now and again to try and guide you back.  In these moments you will write, or play a musical instrument, draw, read a book or just sleep the deepest sleep you can imagine.

When you wake up it will all be spinning again and you will feel like you are on the ride from hell with everything you love seemingly blurred and you ache for stillness, for silence in your head and your head will actually hurt from all the noise like some strange rock concert where instead of jumping and singing and laughing, you sit curled up with your hands over your ears just wishing it would stop.  If you know this feeling then I want you to remember something ... if you could only see through the spinning blur, there are thousands of other spinning blurs happening all around you; so many others on a ride similar to your own if not spinning even faster out of control. 

Now, out to the side you might see the alternate world where seemingly everyone lives happy, successful, loving lives and you wish you were there;  the key observation here is that in the alternate world the colours are defined ... you can see the yellow, the blue, the green BUT it is only when the colours spin, merge and blur that you can see the purple, the indigo,  the aqua ... the unusual and the different.  You see, without your madness the colours would be defined, but within your madness YOU are defined.

As difficult as it may feel at times, be thankful for the spinning and the blurring.  When it stops you will enter a more peaceful existence like that you see out to the side and wish for; the prize for enduring the ride however is that you will take the extra colours with you.

(c) Dianne Traynor  

A turn that takes you nowhere .. and everywhere ..

Tick Tock Tick Tock .. do you ever hear this in your head? And then you find yourself wondering “Where am I supposed to be today that this alarm is going off in my head?” 

I seem to always have so much I need to do and then I meander off into some unknown territory and only achieve half of what I originally intended.  Once upon a time I would have been so busy chastising myself over this; now, I simply think “must transfer that to tomorrow’s page of my diary”

Some things must be done no doubt but then so much that we think “must” be done really doesn’t need to be.  Ask yourself “Will the world stop turning if I don’t do (insert here)?” .. “Will nations crumble because I forgot to (insert here)”?  Do you really think that your own personal agenda items are of that much importance to the Universe? What an over-inflated importance we put upon ourselves at times.  I guess I probably sound like some hippy chick high on the euphoria of flower power right about now to some.  Closer to the truth I am a middle life ex-corporate, dissatisfied, unfulfilled, good-natured, hard-working, misfit but then I kind of like misfits so it’s all good.

More twists of circumstance and Universal turns of fate than a sudden mystical enlightenment have led me to how I now find myself thinking and what/who I am finding important and essential to my daily meander through this life.  If, as I sit myself down to rest of an evening, I can feel I have given of myself to add value to someone else’s day; I have found something ridiculous to laugh at; I have written; I have read; I have achieved perhaps at least one thing on my to do list and I have made someone smile or feel less alone, then I am considering that a pretty awesome day .. job well done! Snaps to me! Ha ha ha

There was a time when I wanted it all – the flash house, the fancy car, the great body, the “important” career , and I got it to a large extent; how strange that I still felt something was missing.  Then there were the countless times that I lost it all through love or stupidity, not mutually exclusive mind you; how strange that this was when I found myself.   Surprise, surprise, life actually went on and, as difficult as it may have been at the time, it did lead me to a new understanding that sits very comfortably with me.  Oh I still like the nice house, the comfortable furniture, the computer, the mobile phone, the (insert here); but now, if you take it all away from me, I simply reach for a pad and a pen and look for a way to manage to stay warm regardless. 

So my early morning wake up call this morning was a smile at the knowledge that I am a lucky girl indeed to now know without any shadow of a doubt that none of the “trappings” define me; nor do they impress me in others. In fact, when I see, hear or read people bragging about their “toys” or “wonder achievements” I actually find it rather boorish.  Share with me your joys, your compassion, your struggles, your moments of appreciation for being here, your pain, your love and I will ensconce myself enthusiastically in your story; brag to me, flash shiny photographs at me, blurb on about how awesome you are or any other generally tiresome endeavour to elevate yourself above the masses, some sad attempt that you may feel superior in some bourgeois way and, oh dear, I feel a yawn coming on.

I guess the upshot for me is that when the Universe decides to throw me another curve ball, instead of feeling “What else? Why me?” – which I still will momentarily because I am only human – but after my self indulgent piteous moment, then I might just sit quietly and ask myself “I wonder how much stronger I will become after this one? How much more centred? What new levels will I reach?” and simply embrace the challenge and look forward to the respective reward that will undoubtedly ensue.

Let’s Twist!

© Dianne Traynor 7 July 2012

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sHQ_aTjXObs&feature=related 

The turn that took me home

I could not say that I have always known I wanted to be a writer.  I dabbled at around the age of 30 penning lyrics to a song and commencing a novel, my life story, but the wounds were too deep and the process too painful and so it was shelved.

Scribblings filed, life went on – marriage, child, divorce, partnered, betrayed, partnered, abused and then finally, at age 50, chosen time alone – chosen being the key.  Many strange events took place over the first twelve months, unexplainable things that I will not go into but suffice to say, one day I was literally guided to pick up a pen and write.  And so began the hours; it just came by itself, I would see a photograph and the words would appear; a flower and a thought about life; a breeze would hold a poem and words would come to me in the middle of the night.

I never thought to criticise my writing – everything else, but not my writing - because I did not consider myself a writer; I had no training just an unstoppable need to release the words, a love of expression and a growing desire to write more and more.  

And then one of my poems reached a girl who had been abused as a child and she wrote me, thanking me as she finally felt she was not alone, someone understood, and she had wept for she had been granted freedom from the pain.  And I knew.

© Dianne Traynor

Sometimes even a right turn can go wrong

Sitting under an umbrella enjoying a fabulous steaming black coffee and a delicious slice, I watched the cars travelling by - some with purpose, some annoying the other drivers as they crawled along at a snail’s pace looking for a park – and my mind drifted back to my marriage. 

 

Divorced before our girl turned one, some nineteen years ago now, I will never regret my marriage.  We have the most beautiful daughter and I believe we truly loved each other, with good reason I might add; we made a good team.  I smile as I think back to the little notes my husband would leave me; to how we met; to the laughter we shared and the fun we had; to working together; to the ridiculous days of backyard cricket and hiding the dog in the wash basket; to the way we planned our wedding. 

We chose to have our wedding on a Thursday night with only family and extremely close friends; the ceremony held at a beautiful historical manor with a pianist playing Unchained Melody as we walked down the sweeping staircase together; we honeymooned interstate for the weekend and then to all our other friends we sent out invitations to our Engagement Party a week later.  During the night we presented the Wedding Cake and shared with everyone that we were, in fact, already married.  It was a cool way to do things and the memories are good ones to hold onto.

We were very similar in a lot of ways; one trait our girl holds us accountable for is our firey tempers, of course we both deny having them! Ha ha ha Our girl often says  “What hope did I have!?! C’mon on!” Ha ha ha  We were both intelligent, a bit quirky, liked to work hard and play harder.  When we had our gorgeous baby girl things changed, maybe we weren’t ready; more likely I have come to believe we both let our respective mothers interfere.  Unfortunately I became very sick about the six month mark and it was a long haul through to the birth, but I would do it all again in a heartbeat! I wasn’t coping, he wasn’t coping and we had voices in our ears. By the time I was finally able to leave the hospital and come home, there was a crack in our armour although I am not sure that either of us was prepared to admit it.

For me, the first six months of motherhood were horrid, I had not a clue what I was doing; I didn’t know who I was; I felt totally lost and disorganised and I called on my Mum a lot for help.  If I had my time over I would do it so very differently; not that Mum wasn’t wonderful – she was – but on reflection, it should have been OUR time as a family and I should have turned to my husband more. As for his mother, well she caused more than a few arguments between us.  I remember asking him to talk to her but, for whatever reason, he couldn’t.  Now I am not saying that either mother deliberately interfered, they were excited too.  What I have come to believe is that neither of us leaned on each other enough. Perhaps it was the fear of the unknown, I don’t know; what I do know is we let others’ voices into our heads instead of only listening to each other.

When our girl was about eight months old my husband told me he wanted to end the marriage.  I was hormonal, angry and devastated. I recall driving to work and I would cry all the way there and all the way home, every day.  The bank I was managing was in a shopping complex and as music played over the system, I would dread hearing Unchained Melody.  Murphy’s Law it seemed to be played repeatedly and I would have to excuse myself to the bathrooms where tears would flow like a river trying to find its way home.  

So life went on, I took a new position and moved to the Peninsula.  He was not happy that we had moved from the City and we could never seem to talk through things without getting into an argument.  At the time I simply thought he was being an ass; thinking back I wonder if he was merely hurting as much as I was.  Anyway, our divorce was finalised and that was that.  How I wish it could have been different, especially for our girl.

Although many hurtful things have been said and done over the years, I am grateful that my girl has two beautiful sisters from his second marriage and a sense of family. We didn’t see much of them once we  moved to the country but now our girl lives in the city and they are making up for lost time. Father and daughter have formed a strong and loving bond for which I am eternally grateful. I miss my girl terribly but I feel absolutely blessed that she has her father to support, encourage and guide her.  A huge thank you wings his way.

When my girl was home for the weekend recently, we shared wonderful memories going through old photo albums of her father and I ... before our marriage, during our marriage, with our girl; we laughed and laughed at some of the ridiculous happy snaps.  She copied some of the photos onto her mobile phone and text her father; I am sure he must wonder why I would have kept these photographs but I am so very glad I did. Our girl now knows with complete certainty that there was a time when her Mum and Dad truly loved each other, were very happy and that she was born of love and is our greatest gift.

My marriage was most definitely a right turn, it just took a wrong turn along the way.

To our girl I say “I loved your father very much and in a lot of ways, I always will”

To my ex husband “Thank you for our beautiful daughter and for the treasured memories”

© Dianne Traynor