Woman On Fire

Woman on Fire

She is more than her body
She is more than the passion that burns her,
More than the desires that consume her.
She is on fire.
She is the ember of hearth fires,
the ash of unfulfilled dreams.
She is the Phoenix that rises.
She is the flickering candle that shines bright in the dark.
The light of hope
that can not be extinguished.
She is the warmth and comfort of Love
The glow that shines upon the horizon at dawn.
She is Radiance
She is a Woman On fire.
.
.
Dedicated to Fire Byrd..A woman on fire..

It matters

The beach was littered with starfish – there had been a tropical storm and they had been cast up from their safe lodgings under the sea and thrown high up onto the sand by the vicious waves and the tide had gone out and they were beached
.
hundreds of them
.
hundreds and hundreds of starfish
.
the boy picked one up and threw it back into the water
.
the boy picked up a second and threw it back into the water
.
there was an old man on the beach watching the boy amongst the hundreds and hundreds of forlorn, out-of-place, slowly-dying-in-the-heat-of-the-sun starfish
.
the boy picked up a third and threw it back into the water
.
the old man said “what are you wasting your time for? there are hundreds of starfish on this beach – what do you think you can achieve? what does it matter?”
.
the boy picked up a fourth starfish and as he threw it back into the very depths of the ocean, he glanced over his shoulder, at the old man and said “it matters to this one” *

No matter what you do, when you do it with love and kindness, it matters.
For me this was a very powerful reminder that all of our actions have far reaching effects, and that whatever we do, no matter how big or small, the difference is felt some where on that spiral of life.
.
I recently added some items to my Labyrinth of life shop, and went to the local shops to change the little sign I have in front of my wares. I do this so that folks know exactly what charity I am presently contributing to.
( My new charity is Here, and it is a heart breaking place to behold)
The woman at the art store was very inquisitive with me, she wanted to know why I always pick kids as the focus of my giving, why I didn’t give to animals, or the environment.
She wanted to know if I really thought my small contributions made any real difference.
I always have, and I always will believe that any small act of kindness goes forth into the spiral of life, and touches lives in ways I will never see or know. In these days of economic recession, of rampant violence, and disconnect, I feel it is ever more important to just be and do what you can from where you are at.
No matter how small.

These mugs were inspired by the story of the starfish. I am a creature that needs visual reminders to keep me on my path, to remind me that “it matters” when the voice of doubt tries to whisper to me.
One of them is for me, and one is a gift, for you. They are not finished, as a matter of fact they are in the kiln today for there first firing.
If you would like the mug, please just email me your address, I will leave it in the hands of Life, and send it to the first person who emails me, having complete faith that you will be the one who needs it most.
Do me a small favor today, if you could please? I would like you to give something today, it’s very simple, and it doesn’t cost anything, just please, give some one a HUG. ..and know that it matters.

* a heart felt thanks to ISLTV for the starfish story.
and if you are looking for a wonderful place to give to animals, go here, and enjoy the love and beauty .

Gladius

The shovel hit the hard dirt, making that slicing noise. He wiped the sweat off is brow, and began the repetitive motion of digging again.
At some point the pain of muscles burning, the rivulets of perspiration that track and burn the eyes, the sheer agony of manual labor moves him out of where he is and into just being.
dig
dig
dig
Another grave, empty and deep. He lifts the wrapped bodies and lays them together in the hole. He ignores the limp form, the smell, the smallness of the frame. He simply places each one with infinite care,
down
down
down
into the the womb of the earth. Rows of mounds, that seem to stretch on to the horizon give testament to his labors. When he started this task his mind would wander. He would wonder about the war, the battles and bloodshed that reaped such devastation. He wondered what they fought over, and what it’s value was, as he looked at the price so many had paid. Despair was a constant, and it wore him down , more than the digging and the carrying of the bodies ever could.
After time, he stopped thinking about it, stopped questioning , the why
why
why
disappeared into the doing. Now he simply did it because he had to.
When she gave him the 30 bags of food, and she showed him how to make a gruel that would feed those whom hunger gnawed at, he had listened and nodded and understood. He gazed at the masses of gaunt and famished, and did not recognize that he himself was hungry.
scoop
scoop
scoop
he ladled out the food. When the bags were empty, and the children, the women, the old and the young still stood there in a line that appeared with out end, he hung his head… and wept
wept
wept
How do you hang on? How do you endure? When the thread of hope is air, when those in need seem to be everywhere and it feels like you are dropping tears into an ocean of despair?
Honestly, I don’t know.
Some where inside yourself,
You find this piece that says “don’t let go”
and you keep moving, keep trying.
You hold onto the connection of light and love that radiates from every living thing,
and you just keep giving….

For Enreal

For those of you who still visit from time to time, I have been asked to participate in a “brain picking” by the seeking soul of Enreal.
I was given two questions from her to answer as I may.
Question #1: SORROW~~~~ new question… if you could pick the brain of a historical figure… I will give you a week in the past to spend with this person… to be present during his/her epiphany … who would it be…
Well It was a hard choice, Just one???
I mean really If I can go back in time and chat with some folks why can’t I do it twice? or even three times?
(stomps mental foot here)
But being the good sport I am
(insert goofy grin here)
I struggled between Devorah, and Tomyris.
I finally decided on Devorah, as she has been a long time favorite of mine. You didn’t ask me what we would chat about Enreal, but I figure what I would ask her was not as important as who I would sit and chat with..
Question #2: and an extra homework assignment would be to answer the second question… what does the world look like through your eyes…
This was an even harder question because of it’s nebulous nature.
Whose world?
Mine?
The world outside?
The world I see when I go to town?
Hmmm
(insert head scratching here)
I chose my own world.
It is my Labyrinth, my place of peace, my home. It is the verdant green of a deep woods, it is the paths of introspection and connection with in. My world is the dance of a dragon fly, the sound of a trickling brook. It is the rhythm of a rocking chair set to the cadence of the breeze. It is the goldfinches perched upon my sunflowers eating and singing. It is the screaming laughter of my children as they race thru the spray of a watering hose. It is the deep dark blanket of night that shines with the twinkling of the stars, and the warmth of a bonfire in the woods. It is a hypnotic flame that weaves me into it’s creative spark. It is my sanctuary , my self made bubble that insulates me against the indifference, and deprivation of a world at my borders edge.
A nest that i am eternally grateful for.
Thank you Enreal for the questions, for sharing and for thinking of me….
Blessed be,
Sorrow