Pride

Like a bottle of vitriol 
I keep on call
Like I’m talking to crowds
And then to the wall
Coz I’ve got this pulse
That hammers my veins
And I keep hearing quotes
And magnificent refrains
That call me to be
Something new
And I don’t owe anything
To the memory of you
Coz I fight with the dream
The fabric I’d crafted
I remember the moment
That you felt I laughed at
All you could not be
And you always said
You were jealous of me
And I kept it like a secret
Honor bound
Til you changed your tune
And the sound
Turned to clashing symbols
I’m covering my ears
Waiting for the air to clear
And tell me that I’m
Safe again
And I found dew drops
In the eyes of men
To patch up
What you tore of me
But I love them honest
So I set them free
To keep what I’d taken
In circumstance
But they always
Ask me to dance
And I can’t say no
But where would you go
If you knew the truth
The black mark that became my youth
All because I
Splintered the prose
And you simply
Took another road
That lead you down
An avenue
Don’t say that you miss me
Coz I don’t miss you
And I’m not gonna lie
And say it’s okay
I still remember
The pain of that day
And the weeks and months
And years to follow
When what had been full
Suddenly seemed hollow
And I can’t say that you
Carved out a mark
Coz there are no forms
In the magnificent dark
Only the feeling
That all is well
Is it time
To show and tell

Supernova Galaxies

Is it too much to wish
Is it too much to hope for
That I could bang
On a closed door
Coz I know you’re in there
And I chase you down
You’re staying in your place
Just outside of town
And I want you
For my very own
Tell me for real
That you’re not on loan
From the days of tomorrow
I’m not one to borrow
But if you’re there
I’ll wipe away sorrow
From the cheeks of your face
That you’ve cried in the past
My love isn’t temporary
It’s made to last
And my heart is calling
Out to your hand
We can dance
It will be grand
As you get up
Off of the floor
In all of the years
I just love you more

Young and Mysterious

22 is a long way behind me
I’m just feeling nostalgic so don’t mind me
And the energy is bittersweet
Like the coast the ocean sweep
And I’ve grown up but I’m down
It’s been years since I’ve worn a classic gown
Back when I was in with the Commerce crowd
And I almost said your name aloud
When Isabelle asked if I
Had the hots for any guy
And what would have been if my tongue hadn’t tripped
Would you be the one I’m walking with
Coz I’m long past empty and far past subside
And I still remember your diamond eyes
As they gazed up at me from the edge of the bed
I was looking down at all they said
And you just on the side of your seat
Was it fate that made us meet
Coz I’m always feeling we’re supposed to be
I lean on you like a tree
So solid and secure
You look at me and I am pure
In my intent to do you well
How did I get so lost, I cannot tell
I just wanna know what it’d be like
To have a song where you’d grab the mic
And interject your own pause
There should be a hidden clause
That says when I get near to you
I’ll find a love that can do
No wrong
So I wrote you this song
Will you hear
Coz, my dear
I’m never far away
And I still love you, okay?

Dancing

Dancing to a rhythm

That no one can see

There is music playing

But is it just me

Who can hear the call

Of the Divine

And endless reservoir

Of fine

And a diamond mine

In the grass

All you ever have to do

Is ask

The Mindful Solution

So, for quite a while now, I have hated the term mental health. I’m not sure if I ever liked it or appreciated its value, as I always see it bandied about as a label to slap on people with difficulties. Oftentimes the people who are apparently “disapprovalwell” are also profoundly dysfunctional. So for this reason, I prefer the term mindful. I prefer the understanding that I am taking care of my mind and that sometimes that is a messy process, that there have been years of bad and foolish behaviour to look at and understand and make sense of. There is also so much emotional pollution on the planet and I feel that sensitive individuals are the ones who bear the brunt in its transformation.

So, to backtrack, when I was fourteen I experienced what could be termed the dark night of the soul, in spiritual circles. Having done extensive reading in years since it seems to be a relatively common phenomenon among the spiritually minded. It is the complete absence of meaning and the arising of profound darkness that happens when you truly allow the world to be plunged into reality. In reading some of the writings of Mother Teresa, it is clear she also experienced this. She wrote of the feeling of absence, as though God had left her, yet she was powerfully impelled to continue the work she was doing as if some unseen force was moving her. She concluded that God had forced her into this state as some sort of a test and she prayed for the day the light would come again. Also, in reading the work of Adyashanti, he talks about a spiritual winter, where all your leaves are stripped bare, leaving only the starkness of your bare branches behind. This description certainly resonates with me. However, as someone growing up in the mid 00’s in rural Ireland, these were not concepts or terms I was familiar with. The only description that seemed analogous was the one of depression, which was spoken about in hushed terms and with a sense of reproof. God, that couldn’t be me. I have written the word in my diary around that time but I remember studiously avoiding it whenever I would see it written, in a newspaper, a class project or a musician talking about his experience. I couldn’t come face to face with the idea for a long time because it horrified me.

And yet the most horrifying part was that I loved, loved, loved the way it felt. It was dark and dismal and utterly profound, like an infinity of time and space in every direction and I felt imbued with great power. I remember a photograph I took shortly after my fifteenth birthday. It was the sky over my house, it was dark and thunderous looking. I remember being in awe when I looked at the image because I saw my own self reflected and the experience was one of incredible depth and devastation. And I found it wondrous. I watched as my old identity was crumbled away and I willed on every step, even as my family wondered what in the hell had happened to their once happy go lucky child. I, however, couldn’t have been more at peace. I recognised this crumbling as the crumbling of illusion, the death of a dream, the pulling apart of the veil of life, so that a greater understanding of life could emerge. Sometimes when I look into someone’s eyes I can tell they are experiencing a similar phenomenon, only to them, it may not be so wondrous but rather a threatening experience that may take all they have, even their life.

And the truth is the price is your life. You cannot truly live until you have relinquished your life. You cannot truly be free until you are willing to die for that freedom. “Come death and welcome, Juliet wills it so.”

So I opened arms to the great expanse and gave what it asked of me and the rest has been left behind, as shattered glass that melts back into the fire that made it. But for anyone still struggling with this all I can say is to trust yourself, trust in that inner voice that speaks when all else goes quiet, or that is still when everything else is screaming loud. Trust it and trust yourself, because I do. x

*** Also a note to anyone reading this::: Do not be afraid to reach out to a trusted individual, an anonymous helpline or someone who is experienced in dealing with the emotional impact of depression if you feel you need to. Despite my disavowal of the term mental health, in the absence of anyone to guide me in a spiritual sense, I took a lot of strength and comfort from people who engaged with me on this level. There came a time for me to let go of it but the value of having someone to talk to cannot be underestimated.

If this is not your thing then I feel that writing down your experience helps to externalise the feelings. Note: the feelings. Feelings are not personal, they are visitors, they come to go, if you are able to meet them. They are like children and once you turn your focus on them they stop crying. The power of your attention is atomic.  I feel that the teacher Byron Katie speaks very powerfully on this and a quick YouTube or Google will give you hours of her to listen to on loop. I love the woman. But again, don’t be afraid to seek out support when needed. This is just my take. You be the guide of your own life and build back up a world that is worthy of you. xxx All of my love, Laura. xxx

dark dark blue cloud

Collateral Beauty

I’m angry at you for stealing time
From me with you that should be mine
Before death takes you finally
I want to have you here with me
To love and to have and hold
I want to see you growing old
And grey haired man the boy I met
I promise I will not forget

The Window

rain_by_numyumy-d9wa7xl

There’s a warm hot breeze blowing in from the window
And I feel so old and so grown
As if I even know
What either of those things are
And the wind carries on it
The weight of age and time
From another era

Photo credit: http://numyumy.deviantart.com/art/Rain-598420137