Thoughts on fear

Show me what you are most fearful of and I’ll show you the opportunities you let slide.

Thoughts on fear

There is no such thing as fear without a purpose, but 9 out of 10 fear overgrows purpose.

Find purpose, stop fear.

Thoughts on fear

Fear is like your face early in the morning before you put on your make up.

No matter how much eye shadow and lip gloss you put on that face is still there.

Learning to greet your wrinkled morning face with a smile is the first step towards smiling at fear and have it smile back.

A or E

Apathy - Empathy.
What is the difference?
What is the difference really?

Thoughts on fear

Fear is like Velcro, lots of things get stuck on to it, even if you don’t want to.

Thoughts on fear

Fear is the other side of freedom

Thoughts on fear

Don´t buy into it!

It will cost you dearly and leave you empty handed

Thoughts on fear

Surpass your own fear.

Then surpass that of others.

A sight to behold

So there I am, it’s a cold night and the near full moon is casting a bright blue light through the canvas of the tent. With my woolly hat and socks on I have crawled into my sleeping bag. The batteries of my flashlight are dying fast and the cardboard box on my knees is getting heavy. There is a purring coming from the box and a soft paw is reaching for my finger. In the dim light I see something glistening and the purring becomes louder. MyoMyo is giving birth tonight, right here right now.  

It is like a bizarre X-Mass scene, the ox and ass are cats and dogs and no wise man here just a silly woman and a snoring man and no star of Bethlehem just a failing flash light.

I can’t keep my eyes off this serene scene. MyoMyo does not seem to be in any pain just the need to push, she does not have the need for privacy, we are all family here. We are all welcome to watch and purr with her. Flow is falling asleep her head resting on the box, NaNa want a better view and scoots on over, cats walk in and out of the box, there is grooming and purring and some snoring in this tranquil tent. 

What a gift to get on this cold night. Eventually I too fall asleep, but not before I found a save place for the box and its precious cargo, right next to my pillow covert by my woolly blanket to keep some warmth in and in the morning a proud mum shows me her four kittens, the look just like her, black and white, only a few sizes smaller.

InneMinneMutte

Home..., don't feel it here, nor anywhere else.
it's not you who's not welcoming, nor is it me.
Home meant alone for so long, sheltered from whatever, alone.
Now I’m not so sure.

Although the feeling remains: “me strange”
and the comfort that gives is still warm,
I do feel I’m lacking something, some way to connect....
Is it me that drifted to far? Or is it you who can’t reach?
Or is it neither, is it just time, just space, just….

And we both move on, no need to wait or to hurry.
See another in glimpses, interpreted always wrong,
But close enough to heart and cared enough by soul.
We each take a step, a plunge and watch the other grow

Past present

I past the stage of anger, resentment and regret.

Awe has replaced bewilderment as it should,

and joy I now see through older eyes maybe for the first time and again and again.

Cynicism, a shadow of the past, I remember with a twinkle in my eye “I never was that bad” 

Talk to me crazy, call me names....

A glass of wine, an empty space,
a longing heart in a fruitful phase.
A hunger for you being there.
Understanding the need to share.
A crappy poem, another sip
the need to move on, a need to stay,
an understanding of the way.

I gained more than I cared to lose.
I don't see clear what is meant to be,
but do see clearly who is me.
Of you I get only a glimpse at best,
a taste of presents, a grayed out past

Still the longing to be shared,
the need for you to know I cared,
the right to connect.
A lack of form, misplaced and mistaken.
Taken for granted more than I can take.
Sorry..., my mistake.

In a tong that is nor mine, nor is it yours
I babble and walk towards Buddha.
Lay my head in his lap and know,
no rest for you yet my love, move a little further still.
I hunger for me being you and you me,
maybe more for the lather rather than the first.

I thirst,
can feel the scratching at my heart, tugging at my soul,
I'm alone here and always was
though the company I kept was more than fine
I take my steps solo and slowly running
the red shoes fit me better day by day
dancing on my ego's grave.

The glass not half empty, the bottle not half full
time's ticking at the same speed, at a different hour.
none the less what is mine is yours and you have what's mine
I crave for it and don't know how to give it to us
what am I lacking here, is it your attention or is it mine.

Bump in the night.

It is dark out and a little nippy too. I warm my toes by the fire, my feet resting comfortably on a log, I feel content and relaxed. I hear a distant cry coming from the black of night and I wonder what bird is making that sound. Unwittingly I hold my breath and listen, but the beast holds its beak. I relax again and throw another log on the fire.

There it is again, is it a whistle or a cry? Maybe it’s a night owl, or maybe not a bird at all, but a stoat or a whatyoumaycallit. The sounds seems nearby now, right next to me it seems. I prick my ears. Funny enough the sound has the same rhythm as my breath.

It turns out to be my own nose whistling Dixie. Untamed nostrils got my fancy tickled and my mind trying on the suit and attitude of sir David Attenborough.

Noisy nostrils and nothing more, I smile and I hear another noise I don’t know of, the night is full of it…and so am I.