Hidden Treasure

I’m on a journey of self-discovery and, with help, am uncovering all kinds of buried treasure locked away in a safe place within just waiting for me to find it … when I’m ready.

Being a gal in her middle years, it’s good to know life still holds some mystery … and isn’t all misery.

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Hidden Treasure

Hidden treasure

Lies beneath

A tide of emotion;

An ocean of grief

Filled with the

Detritus drama

Of souls who

Unconsciously

Live and obscure

Others’ goals.

*

Cleansing the

Waters of life

Takes some

Time while I

Lovingly search

For my treasure

Divine. It’s lying

There buried,

Awaiting release

From a watery

Tomb where there

Is no increase.

*

Thanks for visiting …

Dorothy 🙂

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Copyright Aimwell CreativeWorks 2012

The Gift

As mentioned in previous posts I’ve been on a fairly intense journey of healing and self-discovery during the past several years. There have been times where I’ve asked the types of questions hinted at in this poem. Now, as I rise out of the valley of shadows that dominated my life for so long, I do indeed find myself able to dwell more fully in the light.

It is a glorious way of being …

The Gift

Deep in the valley

Where dark shades

Prevail I look to the

Skies where the

Feathered ones wail.

They dart through

The light as though

Blinded by hope

They don’t worry,

Nor wonder how

They’re going to

Cope. They call

Me, they call me

“Look heavenward,

See there’s the

Bright ray of hope

Shining boldly

For thee!”

They dance on a

Wing, floating high

In the sky to the

Tune of the sun

And the beat of

Their cries. They

Land for a breath

For a morsel to

Eat, then back on

The wing, flying high,

Flying fleet. No

Wincing or whining

No wondering

Why, just birds

On a wing flying

High in the

Sky. My thoughts

Linger longing

To know how they

Feel, so I climb

From this valley

To find something

Else real. I clamber

Up hillsides o’er

Rocks and through

Trees, and commune

With the living not

Lost in dis-ease. The

Sun gets much

Warmer, the wind on

My face chases out

Haunting demons so I can

Embrace what is

Good what is true

What is hope what

Is love. The gift of

The winged ones

That hover above.

*

Thanks for visiting.

Dorothy 🙂

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012

Cosmic Blip

We all have our place in the cosmos. And be assured … it is significant …

Cosmic Blip

As I change and

Rearrange my life

It seems to me,

That there is

Really no one

Else I would

Rather be.

Okay, life isn’t

Perfect; my trials

Have been tough,

But they have

Made me who

I am, and

Really

That’s enough.

I’ve seen my

Limitations,

Yet I know that

I can grow. The

Sky perchance

The limit, and so

To the stars

I go. The sun

Shines boldly

As I soar, my

Heart begins

To race, but

Not from fear

Of what’s

Gone by, no

Forward to

The chase! Dear

Venus wraps

Her arms around

Me, showers me

With love, and

Mars his sword

Tips to the

Earth as peaceful

As the dove. And

To the stars I

Further fly,

And Earth

Becomes so

Small I realize

My presence is

A blip on

Cosmic wall.

*

Thanks for visiting …

Dorothy 🙂

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012

The Art of Veil Painting … Seeing with the Heart

“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret; it is only with the heart that one can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
Antoine de Saint Exupery

Our material world, and its proponents, have deluded us into seeing only with the eyes, enticing and distracting us with ever bigger, better, shinier, more complicated “things” that we absolutely must have (or do) in order to embrace, in their eyes, the total life experience.

What a croc!

Be still for a moment and embrace being. In that quietude is the way to the heart’s eyes.

And, if you like, meditate your heart’s eyes upon this, one of my favourite, veil paintings. I call it “Wise Old Equus.”

If you feel inclined, feel free to share with me your experience. … Or not.

The world is too much doing, and not enough being.

I am. You are. It is enough.

Be well,

Dorothy 🙂

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012

The Pool

As poems go this is pretty deep, written a couple of years ago when I was staring into the dark abyss of my pain while involved in some rather gruelling counselling.

I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’ve been seeking help to rid myself of a life time of emotional baggage. Doing so has been one of the best decisions of my life.

Fortunately, I’m not teetering on the pool’s edge anymore. I’ve dealt with the worst of the agony. Now, with the support of some important teachers and mentors I am focused on living … thriving.

I am grateful.

*

The Pool

I am standing at the edge,

Staring into an abyss of pain.

One step, just one step more

And to the dark pool I drop

Like a stone heading for

Rock bottom. There

Impact meets emotion

And a swell of the surreal

Circles in ever-growing

Impulses around me,

Rising and falling

With a cleansing rain

Of tears

Until it makes waves

No more and again the

Pool is still.

Peaceful.

Waiting.

*

Thanks for visiting …

Dorothy 🙂

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012

Doubts and Troubles

I’ve been on a rather arduous journey to self-awareness the past several years.

As anyone who’s boarded that train will tell you it’s a journey rife with doubt, confusion, imagined troubles, sadness, gloom, joy, sorrow, elation, depression, discouragement, victory, relief, anger, grief, pain, ups, downs, happiness … you get the picture. It’s just been an h-e-double hockey sticks of a ride, and I am under no illusion that it’s over. As long as there is life there is room for more self-awareness … as long as you board that train, that is.

And really, I’m okay with that. I’m much happier with where I am now than where I was when this journey began. I just wish I’d thought to leave the station called “Stuck” sooner.

But then, I appear to be a late bloomer anyway, so the timing for all of this is likely perfect … as perfect goes.

Better to be late than never arrive at all.

How’s your journey going?

***

Doubts and Troubles

Sometimes everything seems clear;

All doubts and troubles disappear.

While other times around me tease

Those thoughts that drop me to my knees.

They toy with circuits in my mind,

So to my self I am unkind,

And make me feel like I am dead

Inside to all my soul’s been fed.

Self-preservation numbs all sense

And life is lived in self-defense.

But as we know this is a lie

For in this mode inside we die.

Tis best to feel what life’s about

It gives us strength, inside and out.

Then thoughts will have a chance to clear

While doubts and troubles disappear.

***

Thanks for reflecting with me …

Dorothy

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012

Sit Still

I sit.

Healing requires it.

I sit

Still.

Resting.

Being.

Me.

I sit.

Still.

Reflecting.

*

This is really random. Hot off the grey matter press this morning.

I have spent a lot of the past few months sitting still. Healing.

I was a restless child. My mother never understood why.

But we know the truth now. With this awareness I can sit. Still.

At least … I’m practicing.

*

Can you sit still?

Be well …

Dorothy 🙂

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012 

Solo

I had a close friend in mind when writing this poem of the same generation of others recently shared in this blog. It wasn’t until several years later, after experiencing divorce  and seeking help to deal with personal issues that I realized the subject of this poem was actually me.

I’m pleased to say I have come through with flying colours …

Solo

Upon her comfort

Perch she sits,

Gazing out to

Horizons golden-

Veiled, and longing

For the gilt touch

Upon her furrowed brow.

Not so far, the flight ~

But, ah, so

Alone.

The nest now but empty,

A cagéd prison

Of her untested fear.

But, the sun ~

The sun does so beckon

And the warmth

Upon her back

Would be so fine.

Thou agéd wings unfold,

Perchance the light upon this

Solo flight to shine.

*

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012

Work In Progress

This is another poem I wrote many years ago as I was beginning my journey to self-awareness. A painful time, it was of some benefit to remind myself I was not the pain I bore, but caught only in the shadow of it. I began to think of myself as a work in progress. This made the nature of any discomfort more present and passing and far easier to bear.

Still does …

Work in Progress

I am a work in progress.
The canvas of my life
Stretches across the easel
Of time, anticipating each nurturing
Brush stroke by the Masterful Artist.

I am a landscape ~
An ever-unfolding vista of colours,
And shapes and light.
The shadows of clouds
Float in, and out,
Dispersed by bright sunshine,
Irreverent and true.

The Masterful Artist reveals
Mysterious patterns and
Miracles with a
Flick of the conscience, or
A long, deep stroke of thought.
The brush of a shadow ~
The sweep of radiant light ~
Depth to denote character,
And dappled sunlight to
Delight the soul.

The Masterful Artist’s strokes
Are sure, each measure
Of the art-child completed
In its time ~
Contemplated and recorded.
Mistakes are washed away,
Remembered no more.
Flaws are embraced to
Profess a perfectly natural appeal.

I am a landscape ~
Time rolls across my verdent fields,
Tickled by morning dew drops ~
Each tender blade of
Life reaching beyond
Tomorrow ~ to grow ~
To stretch toward the measure
Of its creation.

I am a work in progress.
The canvas of my life
Gradually reveals a story
Spun by the Masterful Artist.
I am a Masterpiece.

*

Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012

Masks

In this world of masks
The velvet whisper of
Truth is muffled in
Coarse shadows veiling
The face of life.
Far easier, it is, to hide
Behind a mask than
Abide one’s own truth.
With too many questions,
And too few answers
We march on blindly
And uneasily into
Territories not our
Own; and never to
Be our own.
So much more inviting
It is to be what we
Are not, than to discover
Who we really are.

Sometimes we choose
Our masks, but often
We do not;
Instead placed upon our care-
Worn faces by others
And circumstances,
And never really knowing why.

* * *

And what masks?
Pretense-driven self-
Effacing vices to keep
Out the kind ~ to
Deny feelings, to
Bolster ego and to
Hide our truths from
Others, and from
Ourselves.

Sadness
Pervades the masked
Countenance,
And as much as we
Believe no one sees, the
Opposite is true.
Truth always prevails,
In this world of masks.

***

I wrote this poem several years ago as I was starting down the road to finding my truth.

While stepping out from behind the mask has been, and still is, uncomfortable at times, I’d rather see my self in the mirror than the person others unwittingly created in their own image.

I am more than the survivor I’ve been. It’s my turn to thrive.

The journey continues …


Copyright Aimwell Enterprises 2012