A Poem

Secrets are the silent cells that weep wetter than eyes

He imagines he sees a woman walking away from him. Her bare white feet leaving frosty prints in her wake. Long tendrils of white iridescent hair escape from under her hooded cloak and fly untamed behind her.

We have many choices. More resources than ever for whatever we might need. There is an option saturation that keeps us looking and depletes our time.

Finally settling for one choice would help. Only if this didn’t keep us worried about keeping our options open since we might be missing out on something even better.

Believe me, there will always be critics, hovering, waiting for an opportunity to strike. You will face rejection; your writing will not be accepted; your project is given to somebody else; your painting is still waiting for a home; no one is eating your cake.

I was very lucky recently when a friend offered me the use of her woodland lodge for a night. I arrived early and left in the evening the next day. As I stepped onto the balcony and found myself engulfed by trees and birdsong, the emotions that spun through me were palpable. Totally alone, immersed in nature, I could almost hear an almost silent tinkle of fairy-dust showering me with lightness and clarity. The rush of excitement danced with the calm of tranquillity and the blend was a perfect partnership.

If you feel that you will not measure up to your own expectations, be kind to yourself. You may be clinging on to lies about your abilities because that is safer: if you allow yourself to acknowledge positive truths about your potential, you simultaneously risk experiencing the shame of failure if things do not go to plan. So we step back and stay in that safe place. Often, we are our harshest judge and jury, but please hear that someone else will drive that car and have that amazing trip, regardless of whether or not we put the key in the ignition.