Awakening

Oblivion for the light

I have never known an emptiness like this.
Motivation left me for other lovers long ago.
It returns, but with dwindling frequency
and only ever
to steal a clumsy kiss in the dark night.
It rouses me with its passionate promises of becoming
and for a brief moment
my pulse starts up again with hope.
This time, perhaps, it will stay;
reignite the rudder to drive this life.
But it does not stay and is never sustained.
It plants itself on my lips only, it seems, as a cruel tease;
a reminder of how we used to be.
Surrender to the oblivion is the only door out.
That, I know.
Yet like a floozy I keep falling for the old tricks
and find myself too often back in bed
with desire and hope.

Love and courage,

Leah

The emptiness we feel: Love's longing to know itself once more

The navy blue satin camisole shines under the lights of the Christmas window display of Marks and Sparks. Outside, a homeless man sits in a doorway, hunkering down against the unforgiving winter wind.

The man might want to fill an empty stomach, whilst the shopper makes an unconscious attempt to fill an emptiness no number of satin camisoles can make full.

Blame flies from ready mouths about how we ended up this way, with hungry humans in doorways, a planet suffocating under the strain of fast fashion, and people who don't seem to care.

Yet where can blame really lie? Do the satin seller and the satin buyer not operate from the same unconscious emptiness, a desperate longing for a home they don't yet know they've left? Blame does not come readily when one has travelled to the depths of one's own emptiness. As we inspect our own lives, we find we each have a place where the satin camisole lives.

We are united in our disconnection from Self, the manifestation of that disconnection appearing in innumerable ways. And even that disconnection is found to be filled with sweet innocence, for it seems, at least for now, to be part of this human voyage that we forget the truth of who we are.

Yet the forgetting is not complete. A memory exists within each of us of the wholeness we once knew, and whilst we are asleep to what drives us, that memory powers the motor of our seeking to return to ourselves.

The satin camisole is Love's longing to know itself once more. As it exhausts every possibility in the outside world to rediscover itself, it finally makes the journey inward. And as it becomes conscious of itself again, it pours itself into itself until the remembrance is complete. Knowing now its wholeness, it pours itself back into the outside world, a firefly of light whispering to all those who are tired and ready, 'This way'.

Love and courage,

Leah

The places where the distance between heaven and earth collapses: A story about a purple beach hut

The lady, Stella, invited us to take a tour around her little beach hut. Delighted to have the opportunity to see inside the hut, with its flaking pale purple exterior, we accepted. We walked up the concrete steps and over the threshold, strings of shells dangling in the doorway. The tour wasn’t long, the hut being tiny and all. A table, a kettle, a few knick knacks here and there. It was a hot day in Folkestone, but It felt blissfully cool inside the little concrete structure.