These Ghosts

Above
The ghosts, they come and go
Lingering in the darkness of a crowded mind
Moving in and out, wispy and ethereal,
Making space for their meanderings
Between the walls of untrained thoughts
And loose-lipped whispers

Haunting, magical
Inescapable grace
Whispers of the past
Harbingers of a future yet unseen

These ghosts, they dominate the mind
When the mind dwells in past affairs
Swirling in and through the soul,
Making present lives but a hazy dream

These ghosts, they are but fiction,
A fragment of a dream already dreamt
No amount of clinging will bring them back
Or make them real again
These ghosts, just let them be

©SpiritLed 2017

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Passion Rising

heart sun

When love is your passion
Your hobby’s not a game,
It’s a lifestyle,
A movement,
A yearning deep within that can’t be quenched
By momentary attention or periodic preparedness

No, you must feel the passion rising every day
Until it’s lodged in the makings of your soul,
The first thought of the day,
Before the apricot sun makes her way to the sky,
The final dream before the rising of the moon in your heart

These dreams, they must be tapped, developed, nurtured,
Alchemically converted and swallowed whole
Becoming you
Consuming you

Passion rising in your spirit
Until Spirit guides you home

©SpiritLed 2016

A Dream Not Yet Shattered

Lonely girl sitting on pier with ball of glowing light in hand

Just scratching along the surface
We never get where we’re going
We have to dig a little deeper

Down beneath the superficial
Below the false togetherness
The organized and pristine façade
Find the true depth
The real pain and hidden tears

Some days, we walk through the valley
Others we’re high on the mountain
Such is life, with its dips and turns
But we never stop moving forward

We take rests along the way
Never so long that we lose the way altogether
Just long enough to drink the cool water
Rejuvenate, appreciate

Caress the cheek of the child in our arms
This being birthed into a new light
A dream not yet shattered
A hope still promised to the world

©SpiritLed 2015

Change is Coming

Dandelion clock in morning sun

There is change coming
can you feel it in the air?

Do you feel it wrapped around you
like a blanket,
the cold stickiness like a hard-earned sweat?

Do you feel the palpitations
like a heartbeat,
the life-blood of your dream?

Does it keep you awake
imagining all that is to be,
all you are to become?

Do you feel it in your bones,
calcified to the truth
in the great grey matter,
a living scheme of color?

Do you feel the change,
and what, my friend,
will you do to make it happen?

©SpiritLed 2015

The Calling

Surreal tree in lake

The calling is inside you
whether you acknowledge it or
leave it to be carried off by
wind or whim
or the cold seed of time
which grows leafless trees
and stark contrast against
the cityscape,
barren branches grasping,
weeping secret tears of joy
for connection to dreams within
that you at once shun
and hold against your soul,
for the seed
that may ripen on the vine or
follow the rocks downstream,
absolved of all pretense
and obligation
to be encased in the next life
or waking dream

©SpiritLed

Birthing my Dreams

Recently I dreamed that I was with a woman who was giving birth.  I and the other women present were encouraging her as she worked when suddenly the thought came to me “just a head”.  Next, I looked at the birthing woman lying naked on her side, bearing down one last time as the baby crowned.  With one final push, the baby’s head emerged–and dropped to the floor.  Silence befell the room.  And there, in the stillness, a miracle occurred.  The baby’s body appeared, united with its discontinuous head.  Then I awoke.

I knew the dream was symbolic.  I’ve been hearing a voice sometimes while dreaming that says “This is important!  Remember this!”  However, I don’t usually wake up enough to write down my dreams and they’re lost by morning.  But this dream happened just before I woke for the day, and I knew instantly that it had deep meaning.  I pondered it for about a week, analyzing the possible symbolism.  What does birthing represent?  What can a headless baby possibly mean?  What about the body appearing?  

I started thinking about my life for the past few years, especially this whirlwind year:  my growth, my soul expansion, my dreams, my goals, my blocks.  And suddenly it came to me.  The birthing woman was ME, laboring to bring forth my own truth, my authentic existence to the world.  and just when I get to the moment of truth, the final moment when my labor of love is born into the world, it’s decapitated, lopped off by my fears, insecurities, distractions from the goal, feelings of unworthiness.  Despite all my hard work, there my dream rolls around, lifeless on the floor.  But in this dream, the body materializes and reconnects with its head.  The dream is made whole again, the labor complete, the need for mourning averted.  This is my message — the time is here for me to throw off fear, to reconnect my head to my body (which contains my heart), to go forth and do that which I am called to do.