The Power That Rules my Fate…

Darkness or light? That is the choice, always. What we choose will be dependent on our attitude, our programming, our upbringing. There is always an opportunity for healing, wherever we shine our light. Sure, we will be hounded by the Darkside until we face it head on. That is our work. That is the only mission that really counts.

This Incantation is from The Eagles Gift, by Carlos Castaneda

“I am already given to the power that rules my fate,
and I cling to nothing, so I will have nothing to defend.
I have no thoughts, so I will see.
I fear nothing, so I will remember myself.
Detached and at ease, I will dart past the Eagle
to be free.”

You may need this when you embark upon your descent into the underworld!

May The Force Be With You….Always!

Stupid

When we are judged as stupid
It is because we are feared,
hated or reviled and thereby
found to be threatening.

Perhaps for our ebullience (yes, and)
I think probably for our
ability to be happy and carefree (too).
Most definitely for out
child-like demeanour
our innocent joy
our creative boldness.

What seems like such a beautiful thing
can be tarnished by the very one’s
who purport to love us.

So don’t fear the label
Embrace it, as any judgement
As a rite of passage;
We know, we have touched someone
deeper than they themselves can go
for that reason
Have compassion
for the haters
The mud slinger’s
and the name callers
The labellers and
The righteous Judges
for they are far
from home.

P. Thomasson
30th March 2016

This poem was sparked by the question “But I feel so good; so why do I think I’m stupid?”
Upon analysis, feeling good always brings with it, this judgement of being stupid. But who gave it me? That was the deeper more intriguing question.

I still feel stupid, but I won’t take it so personally.

 

phoebe thomasson uk artist kneels in her studio working on a painting with gold leaf photo credit adam white photography dorset

The Yin & The Yang

Blending lemons and limes
its a rhythm thing
seems that when I’m
In the vein of truth
there is endless time.

I am not a writer
I can’t be for
I have no pen;
only this on in my drawer.

Who am I ignoring?
who am I trying not to be
that I am?
oh its me
it’s that old thing again.

When I get stoned
out of my mind
it’s a bit like dying
it always was, for me…
not everyone had that
reaction.

Unbalanced (just playing how I felt; scared)
Full of fear (terrified of what I thought was)

I found my pen
at last.

link to the art shop and gallery of phoebe thomasson artist
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