Mum. Unedited.

Today I feel raw .  My thoughts and feelings are on display and I don't seem to have it in me to mask them.  Everything I've read, all the internal work I've done, it's not helping today. It's one of those days. A bad day. The one that makes the good days 'good'. Today is like what dark is to the light, drought is to the flood, grief is to joy. I'm walking through tar. It's pouring outside, so much rain! Thunder and lighting too. A worldly manifestation of my churning mind.  I watch myself this way - from above. I see troubles hanging over me like dark brooding clouds. I know tomorrow will be different. Probably better. But today is all I have right now. And today is hard.  But I know better now. I have had so many of these days that I've come to cherish these days too. I feel so much on days like today. I really experience myself. I notice how Time slows down. I watch my thoughts dart about in my head. I feel my heart race for no reason. I am a...

  I wait for the words   To come out of the silence. But for now, I only hear the music. Only I hear the music. It’s playing a sad song today. Piano. Then violin and cello batter the strings of my heart.  A tear breaks free And it runs down my cheek. I think of the love lost. A love treasured. Your sweet smile, your tender voice.  It tears me apart.  We are one, and yet Who am I? But only a shadow of your being.  Take me with you To the bottom 10,000 miles below Where time is standing still.  Under water.  A guitar starts to strum. Reminiscing the good times we shared.  I know that I’d rather have lived a day, with you Than a lifetime without.  But if I could only have one more of those carefree days. I’ll miss you for the rest of all of my days. Our moments together come alive  In my mind’s eye.  I almost smile, welling up with gratitude.  That you ever lived.  I will always r...

I'm curre ntly reading Brené Brown's book 'Rising Strong'. And loving it. Powerful and empowering. In the chapter 'Sewer rats and scofflaws' she asks a question that's been very close to my heart for a very long time. Are people doing their best?    Agreed that sometimes, people ARE doing their best. Totally true. But when people are being assholes to you, when they're cutting in the line, when they are passive aggressive, when they gossip, when they're wreaking with racist hate. What about then? Are they doing their best then? Hard to imagine. Right? And then there's the big question, are you always doing your best? Am I? I certainly don't always feel like I am. Sometime's I'm just lazy. Sometime's I'm downright mean. I know I could've done better. I know I could've been less harsh. I most certainly could've done better. That wasn't my best, was it? And if that was my best, then is that who I really am? What d...

As I drive over the Bridge I look over to the east. I roll my windows down The wind rushes through my veins And I become one with sea and sky. Breathtaking.  Time slows down  Almost to a standstill. This moment will last forever, In my picture memory. I know I am close now. I take the second exit on the North Shore. The Pacific Highway. The Ocean Road.  Such a grand name. Past the roundabout and the giant fig trees The road curves up the hill.  Tall buildings on the cliff peer down at me.  They recognise me.  My heart quickens. I love this familiarity. This Road - I will never forget.  I have seen it a thousand times. On a sunny day, in the rain and the fog.  I have driven it a countless times,  In my mind, with you. I take the narrow street up the hill.  Cars parked on both sides Leaving room for only me.  I squeeze through.  Only steps away from you now.  I look over to the skyscrapers of the City.  Always standing....

A weekend filled with nostalgia and memories.  Drive over the Sydney Harbour Bridge in your car.  Lunch time dessert from Lorraine's Pattisserie - New York cheesecake and dark chocolate eclair.  Afternoon walk through the hilly, leafy streets of Neutral Bay to your apartment.  Sunset at Bradleys Head, pink sky and velvet blue ocean.  Spinach chaat, sambar vadai and masala dosa for dinner at Malabar. With a nice glass of Pinot Noir.  Life was simple but perfect with you.

I hold on tight to this place inside me Where the pain, the hurt, the sorrow live.  Shaping the sands of my soul. This place of grief, this is my place.  It is the only pure place I know Where we meet without seeing where we speak without talking Where we love without touching. It is the beginning and the end. Love never leaves here.  I must travel to the deepest recesses But I always find you here. Unbroken. Untouched.  We move through here skillfully Like skaters on thin ice.  Our extremities are cold But our souls are on fire. This place is as real as any.  Here my pen flows But I remain speechless.  I come here to see through your eyes Feel through your heart. I come here often. My veil of deception has come off Only the universal truth lives here.  In this stillness nothing stirs Except my tears. They glisten in your gaze.  I am overwhelmed Grief is the only real feeling I know It tears me to pieces...

I see you everywhere.  In all forms. In the formless.  You are  In the vastness of the night sky. In the depths of the bluest ocean.  The twinkle in the stars The blinding power of the sun. You are  The blood coursing through my veins The wilderness in my mind The music that brings me to life The beauty I cherish through my eyes  The tears that warm my heart. You are The quivering blade of grass The mist that hangs heavy in the chilly mountain air The thundering rivers after a monsoon The summer storm that batters my heart. You are  The majesty of the universe And the fragility of life.  You are  My joy The distance that keeps us apart. You are  the light that gives the gift of life The darkness that envelopes it all. Every new sunrise and every grey cloud. You are  My dreams unfulfilled The truth that grounds me to this moment. Every breath of life in me. You give me courage To be bold, to be frail To start again.  To fail. Yo...