DREAMING UP ANGER

In the day I seek the light and shun any fears or darker parts of myself aside. I become a great actress with my lines memorized for each and every situation I will encounter that day. It’s how I have learnt to survive in this world.

But at night I enter the darkness and I travel with my dreams into the realms of fear, truth and the many different facets that make me up as a women. 

Last night I dreamt that I moved into a home high up on a hill in the country. The grass was all dried up and the colour of wheat. The air was heavy with humidity. Everything seemed so still. I stood at the doorway of my cottage and peered through the waves of heat at a path that cascaded down the hill. Two people began to approach. As they got closer I could see it was my ex husband and a women who has hurt me in waking life immensely. Even now I still feel the daggers she has left in my back. I was wearing a pretty white dress with a red and white polka dot apron over the top. My hair was out and although I looked soft and feminine a staunch power was surrounding me. My ex-husband stopped and lent on a rock, lit up a cigarette, tilted his head and with a jerk of it he ushered for the woman to approach me. I narrowed my eyes and kissed my teeth. There was no way I was going to let her anywhere near my home. I then realized I was holding a large stick that was carved with all sorts of traditional  Maori patterns. My knuckles began to turn white with the grip I had around it. I stepped through the doorway and in a large, strong and commanding voice I bellowed, “Get off my WHENUA!” (Whenua is the Maori word for land and also placenta.) I said this over and over again but still she walked closer to me, smiling with a smugness that boiled my blood and made me stand even taller and command even stronger for her to leave my land. We came nose to nose, woman to woman and stared each other down. “LEAVE.” I said, with such ferocity that she backed up. Though she still smiled that smug smile. I turned to my right and looked over at my huge black dog that had been watching this all play out. I gave him a look that said “Get rid of her”. He slowly got up and began to snarl and growl. He walked like he was stalking her, ready to kill. She was backing down the hill now, though still reluctantly. My dog and I both barred our teeth and with a deafening bark from him and one last, “Get off my Whenua!!” from me. The woman finally disappeared.

So much self-doubt and confusion has been swirling around me but dreams like this let me know I’m travelling in the dark to seek the darkness in spite of my fears. My miraculous mind is giving me stories of the strong woman within, the angry woman within, the protector woman within and how to mend my heart in waking life using these puzzle pieces that make me up.

Our messages in our dreams are medicinal antidotes to those bigger emotions we seem to suppress such as anger. I find it hard to let the fire of anger burn in the way it needs to and to slowly snuff it out with patience and love. Instead I suppress it and let it burn in a place inside that allows its flames to lick the compassion and empathy right out of me. This is why my dream time is so important. Especially as a mother with very little time in the day to get quiet with myself, I wait until the moon is high and in front and behind my eyelids is darkness. It is then all masks are taken off and my script is left behind.  It is then I slip into the work of spirit.

A x

MIDNIGHT KISSES

I have always loved the stillness of night. I often wake around midnight or even three am and lay there listening to the creatures who seek prey or the ones who just share their beauty with a soft song under the snowy moon. Most of all I love the stillness. Rugged thoughts and tired bones feel as though they have dissolved with what little sleep I've had. My heart beats at a slow rhythmic pace and feels light and open. Perhaps I'm a woman of the night. Destined to always wake and have my blue veins bathed and turned silver by the light of galaxies far far away. The darkness seems to evoke an energy and a passion in my spirit. 

I use to love making love in the dead of the night. Sleepy intertwined bodies heavely and slowly would drape on top of each other. Half awake kisses trail along eyes still dreaming. Murmurs of passion are exchanged as we would lull each other with rhythmic rocks. No words spoken, we would be guided by only feeling and the energy of this sacred time. With sweat stained cheeks we would fall once again into the mould of each others bodies, skin on skin, and back into the theta mind. Perhaps a whisper of "I love you" somewhere or perhaps not..

I have a new love in my dark nights. They are my children. sometimes I creep next to them and stare into the cherub faces. I try to etch every crease, curve and detail of their innocent beings into my mind. I stroke their little noses and kiss their teeney toes. I hold them and cradle them and whisper promises of joy and that I will be a better mama tomorrow. Sometimes I drip sad tears onto their downy soft heads as their youth shows me how delicate and immortal this life is. The invincibility of my own childhood has been drained away and replaced with a deeper respect for birth and inevitable death. I see the veil between these two worlds become thinner and thinner as i become older. I then fill with gratitude and pride as I realize these children will be my greatest achievements. I bask in moonlight and in motherhood. 

Darkness is for reflection and reguventaion. We arrive earthside into darkness and are stationed in the watery portal of our mothers womb. Dark envelops us as we grow. It always fascinates me that the heart is formed in the embryo before any other organ, even before the brain. The heart then, should always come first in life. I do not believe in coincidences. This was meant to be. And what is last to go as we fall into the dark void of death? Our heart.. Darkness is woven in life and in death. It holds a power as bright as our light side. Do not fear the inky black skies or the parts of you that you shun away into the shadows of your subconscious mind. 

Embrace it all and howl to the moon wild woman! In your darkest hour something amazing is being born. You will shed and you will reform into the magnificence you were always meant to be xx

PACING HALLWAYS

It's 3am as I pace my long dark hallway. A little babe is tucked against my torso. Knees pulled up, arms curled tightly against his chest and pressing on my heart, his little head is cradled in the space between my shoulder and neck. His sweet milky breath is warm against my skin. Its not the first time we have walked down this hall with its creaky floorboards beneath us and walls alongside us that sigh with sleepiness and restless bones. We have been pacing for much of the night. The gentle vibration of my steps and my heartbeat against his body have become the only source to his slumber. In the depths of our exhausted minds and among desperate shushhhhs I begin to imagine my little baby, my son, as a grown man. 

I begin to wonder what he will look like and who will comfort him in his times of need. 

I pull him a little closer into me. 

I wonder if there will be times in his life when he will need someone in the night to kiss his face, hold his body and tell him everything is going to be OK. 

I breathe in his baby smell and keep pacing.

I wonder if he will ever feel loneliness and pace his own hallway one day. Searching for an answer or a guidance beyond this physical realm.

I kiss his little head a hundred times. Then a hundred more for the times I cant be there.

I wonder if he will ever lie awake at night battling his swirling thoughts and feel helpless. Silently crying out for help. For some comfort.

I rub his little back and sing a soothing lullaby that I hope echos in his mind forever.

I drift to a memory of seeing a homeless man sleeping on the sidewalk. His face was pressed against the hard cold concrete and his body was supported by a paper thin blanket. His dark lashes twitched with dreaming. And, I wondered if his mother once held him warm and close. Whispering promises and murmurs of love. Where is she now? Or perhaps he has always slept alone, exposed and abandoned. 

I tuck my sons feet into my dressing gown so he feels no cold. So his body is enveloped by me.

I wonder if he will know that I am always there for him and even as a tall, strong, grown man I will hold him, pace with him and speak kindness and hope into his soul.

For once I am not resentful towards this tiny nocturnal creature and his relentless night waking. In this moment I feel I could spend eternity holding his body and comforting him as we pace hallways engulfed in a quiet darkness. I tell him that as long as I am his mother he will never be alone. He will always have comfort in the dark times. I tell him that I love him, I love him, I love him. I tell him that in his darkness he will meet me. A young mother, tired but full of love, holding his weight with a strength that surpasses any emotional hurt or life's hard knocks. We will pace these long sometimes endless hallways together my son. Sleep now, you're safe and I'm here, always. 

Mama xx