We are story
Ilusion
Water colour
Rememberings
Kept alive
In the framing of my mind
Invisibly etched
On someplace
I call my heart

I clutch
A painted reality
of yesterday
Making it mean tomorrow
Projecting holograms
Of you
And you
And you
On to the mirror of the future.

Blind to see
There is nothing
There
I am nothing
And you
An emptiness
Of ephemeral meanderings
In the echo chamber of
Some consciousness somewhere.

The me that is I
And the you that is you
Captured by human magic
Pressed memories
On to the ether that is the internet
Or a photo on my phone
While the we that is us
Dissolves and disappears
And we are dissolving still.

The drip dropping of these words came as I was reminded of a friend of mine who passed away almost a year ago in May 2018. The partner of a dear friend; we didnt know each other well or for very long and perhaps there was only one photo of the two of us. A selfie on my visit in 2017 – two distorted moon like faces grinning into the camera as I prepared to depart from Middle Earth. And now……all I am left with is the mystery of it all and the dissolving.

Photo by Lieselot. Dalle on Unsplash

Crumpled parchment
Brittle translucent
Silently compliant and dissolving into death
The breathe of life blowing dandelion seeds into the wind
Tumbling lightly on this earth with carefree abandon
The delight of tenacious spirit holding on to the joy of being alive
Of being human.

A spiritual light housed in a skeleton lamp of sinew, bone and a little flesh
The eternal spark burning more brightly as the body slips away
Leaving the indomitable spirit
Naked in its brightness
A defiance to death’s puny grasp
A giggle into its inevitable embrace.

A light that isn’t doused but rather wends its merry way
Into the memory of our mind
Daisy chained to those who have gone before
And those who are still behind
Dancing fairy lights into the glade of night
A glided teasing invitation to join Immortality
And snuff goodbye to Time.

Day 39: Sometimes Sad Is Ok

Parrot Tulip in Tramore

I lost all heart to write about awe today when I heard about my friend Emile’s death.  Last Summer during my month as a facilitator with the Kalikalos Summer community on the Pelion in Greece I made Emile’s acquaintance.  More than one late Summer evening was spent on the terrace of the local tavernas in Kissos supping on wine and debating life.  Emile was a contemplative soul, with a sharp intellect and an inventor’s mind we shared long careers in the IT business.  A stalwart of the early days of the Kalikalos community he had chosen to step back a little, to live more sustainable for himself, to look after his heart both physically and metaphorically.   Last Sunday as this year’s work campers prepare to roll up their sleeves to launch another season Emile’s heart failed him.  He didn’t recover and passed on his way this 30th day of April.  I am sad, deflated and it feels right and fitting to be introspective with that.

100 Days of Awe is a playful project I set up to bring my attention to awe in my daily life. I see awe as wonder, a mixture of amazement and respect.  I expect the experience of awe to be about perception shifting awareness and that demands a reframing of some sort.  I am excited to see what will awe me on this journey.

Anne K. Scott is an imagination technologist, her work to teach, facilitate and deliver innovation for individuals and business.  She is the creator of FindYourMojo a FREE iPHone productivity app. If you are interested in what intuitive coaching can do for you please do contact me.  I support clients all over the world.

Death is a puzzle and never an easy converastion.  In March a cousin of mine passed away his life tragically curtailed.  His was a life of addiction and mental anguish.  He lived and breathed like all of us but struggled to fit into main stream living.  On his good days he was bright, articulate, sharply intelligent and revelled in his passion for chess.  On his bad days hollow-eyed and anguished.  I never knew how to best support him or those closest to him.  This poem came to me a few days after he passed.

Silently sleeping
Slipping slowly from the motorway of life
Sliding under the radar of breath
Spirit untangling from the nauseous wrangling of life
A struggle against clipped wings
Misunderstood beginnings
A life that tripped and fell and fell again
Pained bruising of powerlessness
Straining towards grandeur
Trying to close the gap between the gutter and the stars
Ermine cloaked castles always out of reach
Earthly gold and glamour poor substitutes
Hopelessly hopeful
Against the drag of millstone weight
Falling further and further from grace
The puzzling of quizzical others
Tired of scurrying along the highway of life
So easy to relax and glide into the exit lane
Softly coasting into the cool, green freshness of Paradise
To resurrect and spread again the feathered wings of Icarus
A new chance to soar to the sun
To experience the joy of unfettered flight
Freedom to duck and dive
And play the edge with no fear of death
Essence of pure precious spirit
Shaking loose the scuffed trials of clodded earth
Foresaking the yearning hearts left behind
Fly, Spirit, fly