Eternal Flow

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Eternal Flow

Like a mountain stream leaps and bounds
growing as it merrily skips,
picking up stones and twigs;
Emerging as a lively course;

Carving its way through rock and moraine
through farmland , past towns;
In time as a mighty river emerges,
for fish and man to enjoy,

Ending in quiet surrender to the Sea
so unfathomable and infinite.

So it is with a newborn child,
helpless but filled with life,
laugher and tears win our hearts;
Tender care guides the growth,

To skip away with friends
each day a lively dance;
picking up knowledge and tools;
understanding creativity.

Maturing in power and strength,
yet falling, stumbling and race,
whilst finding inner stability;
Purpose and wisdom to live.

With time reaching 
the mightiest Sea of all.

© miriam ivarson

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Who Are We

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Gales, hurricanes storms are passing through our lands as Autumn vigorously – too vigorously at times – shakes all in its way.

Cleansing the trees from dead wood, sadly also the live. Picking up a car here and there and depositing them almost playfully upside down. Picking up Oaks, Poplars and Ashes; casually throwing them around. At times on our abodes. 

The sea in its frightening wild dance is doing the same, cleansing itself from debris as it dances with the Wind. Its power is stunning and in awe we stare, silenced. 

One picture from the news stay in my mind. Miami skyline against a huge ominous black cloud. The mighty buildings, the frontage of the city, looking so small and helpless under the ferocity of this force; hunkering down it seems.

So many of us feel fear and helplessness at this awesome display of nature’s strength. How small we can seem in spite of all that has been achieved. 

I wrote a poem a while ago, comparing nature’s way with ours. We are “Oh so clever”, but need to find harmony with our planet. This jewel in the universe.

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Who are we

The ant busily follows the track along
Building its stack high as a hill,
with dedication, purpose and innate skill.
The bird builds whilst singing his song
picking mosses, twigs, building soft and strong.
Butterfly shimmering, hovering quite still
listening to flowers by the rill.
All at peace with where they belong.

Man sets forth with bluster and brain
to conquer and build with might,
not knowing they cause pain.
Ignoring creatures and nature’s plight.
instead, work in harmony, unchained
Sail with the wind, create with delight.

© miriam ivarson

OPPOSITES OR ONE

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Darkness and light,
enhancing each other.
Without, our hearts would not
soar so high nor shine;

not having felt fear and grief,
trouble and joy.

Walking the forest I am struck,
gasping at the otherworldly play
Between light and shade.
Mosses in shimmering hues;
lime grey and bright golden greens;

whilst tree trunks throw intricate patterns
of a music score, on forest floor.
The huge roots from fallen pines,
so beautiful in death;

Providing home and food
for creatures that thrive.

 

This leads me to the shades within ourselves, the dark and light of fear, an inherent feeling in all beings.
Albert Camus said: ” There is no love of life without despair of life”.

To find balance and healing we need to leave space in our soul for all the shades. Room for our fears, our joys, our peace, our misery. Room for beauty.

Just accept what is now and let that be so. From such acceptance there might grow a creativity we had no time to see.

As I write this on fluttering pages whilst sitting in the shades of Birch trees I am at one within and without. Beauty surrounds me and serenity. I feel inner peace.
When we find this it might be wise to rest in the harbour for a while and restore wisdom and knowledge of ourselves and life.

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INTENSELY ALIVE

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INTENSELY ALIVE

What was it like when life just began?
on this planet we love,

When all was still,
yet, so intensely alive;
working in harmony,
A stillness hard to conceive.

Birds, animals and man
together in peace;
No need for dominance or strife.

As I head for my retreat in Sweden tomorrow morning I  realise that in today’s world it is close to the Eden we often seek.

I feel blessed to have come across this hidden gem and am sure I was somehow guided. It is in an area I hadn’t thought of, a chance word in a conversation caught my attention  and all was go from then on.

To give you all a taste of a still morning at my retreat I want to share with you the poem below which I wrote whilst having breakfast under some birches, facing the morning sun.

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MORNING MUSINGS

Whisper of pages turning
by the breeze,
untouched writing pad;
Pen lying idle beside,

just being is so majestic,
No word good enough.
The morning sun 
gently warms my face.

Delicious beyond description,
Blueberries and raspberries
bursting in my mouth.
Harvested this morning 
among forest trees.

Wagtail, Fieldfare delight 
on new cut lawns,
Picking, flitting,
Drinking dew.

Organ music 
through spruce woods,
Delicate whisper
through birches;
Sun teasing between
summer clouds.

Coffee tastes good.

I lean back, stretch arms to the sky,
Palms upturned;
Saying with a smile;
Thanks.
For an another day of Life.

© miriam ivarson

Winged friends

OSCILLATING SOUNDS

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Sounds; from the minute we are born they surround us. Comfort, lull and frighten. They will forever stay in our subconscious memory. Any trigger will set off reactions out of our control. Soothing, happy or frightening.

A loving voice, a comforting rhythm, hum from harmonious conversations can comfort and still a fractious spirit.

And so it is with lullabies. I remember my mother’s beautiful songs and lullabies as well as my father playing his mouth organ. As adult I would at times be blessed with them calling and play a duo over the phone. Tears would run with happiness. My poem below touches two sounds that still today work as lullabies for me. I would be delighted to hear from you about sounds that have made impact in your life.

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THE COT and THE TRAIN

What possible connection do they have?
except the effect of their sounds,
their rhythmic 
soothing pulse.

Embedded deep in my soul, my brain,
more powerful than lullabies.
Eye lids gently close 
as I drift with the chants,

of water against the hull
of clunks from the rails.

Tucked in a Cot in my father’s boat,
safely riding the waves
as he steers with steady hand;
The song lulled me to sleep.

On my first train journey at 15,
excited by all that was new;
the steady, rhythmic percussion,
carried me into Morpheus arms.

Gentle but powerful songs
grow firm roots in your heart.

© miriam ivarson

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Lit from within

Walking the garden this beautiful morning I felt the urge to share with you what I saw.

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It seemed lit from within
Lit by love
and by the sun above,
As it shared its nectar
with bees and butterfly,

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Its brightness and fragility
shining with joy and love,
Stream of healing flow.

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Bursting with life,
bright as the sun;
telling us to fill
our shadows with light.

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Next I chatted with Mr Blackbird,
so proudly showing off
a beak filled with worms;
Dinner for the family.

I told him he was handsome
and clever too;
He nodded his head vigorously,
losing one worm.

Please join me now for a drink,
sitting among them all,
Not even meditating;
Just breathe.

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THE VEIL OF GREY

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Find your dream or a grey veil will forever blind you from seeing the glory of life. Life in its multifaceted splendour of which we are part. Like the atoms of our body, of the universe. We long for warmth, for love. Someone to share our dreams, failures and successes with. Our highs and lows.

Nobody can find all answers but the truth is, most of us have a choice. It takes courage, passion and will to leave the comfort zone – to find and realize our dreams.

So please, don’t throw this precious gift away. On a life just “good enough” – on drabness. A life lived in the colour grey.

THE VEIL OF GREY

I am fighting it hard,
the colour grey
at times almost black.

Around me nature erupts
in hues to silence any man,
yet, when I close my eyes;
The shadow of grey 
returns with stealth.

I pointed to the riches,
talked about living now;
not then or hence.

It doesn’t work, I am told
in reality
Working every day, feeling drab,

What do you want I ask
to do with your day,
your life;

I don’t know, he said;
This is when 
the veil of grey descends.

May we all listen
hear our dreams and truths,
Find joy in what we do;

Anything else is existence
Not Life.

© miriam ivarson

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My Window

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My  Window

Some of my best friends are what popularly

is described as “Bloggers”.

Through following them I have been fortunate

to meet and care for many of their followers

and fellow Scribblers.

 

You are some wonderful and imaginative men

and women, ready to share your gifts. To dare

be open about your lives, your beliefs, travels,

there are too much to list.

 

After long and soul searching deliberation I have

decided to open my window wide. Let the invigorating winds and breezes flow.

To embrace people from around our beautiful planet.

To share with you.

As I dare take the step and cautiously open that window

I comfort myself that to create a symphony we need all the

instruments.  Be they big and small.

This is how it all started.

 

BUMP ON THE HEAD

I got a bump on the head

Walked around dizzy and confused.

A Muse walked in, took my hand,

wrote a poem with me.

I read it in surprise.

Bewildered I wondered,

How could this be?

The muse will soon leave,

When bump on the head has healed.

But the impish Being stayed,

at times I ask her to wait – whilst I finish

shower, call or a chore.

It has lifted my spirit to have

my Muse around,

Wise full of fun and care.

Is concussion a cheap price to pay?

Should I say ‘thank you’

to the lorry driver

who bumped the car?

He did after all,

open the door for The Muse.

A lesson to be learned,

In most difficulties

we will find,

The seed to wisdom and joy.

©  miriam ivarson