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