Archive for the ‘Inner Journey’ Category

fall.jpgAlmost 4 years ago I sat in a doctors office, bouncing my baby daughter upon my knee, whilst a medical professional told me I had breast cancer. She looked at me with a sadness and confusion that almost annoyed me as I desperately tried to calm my fussy baby. In that moment, I was more interested in calming my daughter than facing the concern of the stranger in a white coat who patted my arm and asked me “Do you understand what I am trying to tell you? This is bad news.”

Yes, I told her. Yes, I understand. I whipped out the offending breast and popped a nipple in my daughters mouth. I looked at the curvaceous white flesh that provided my baby with life giving nutrients and wondered whether the same breast would take my life. Yes, I understand. But in the way of human nature, I clung to the little piece of hope hidden within the box of bad news – more tests meant uncertainty. I could live with uncertainty. (more…)

quote-anne-lamottHello world.

It has been rather a long time since we last spoke – so long in fact, that I forgot my log in to this blog. I was in hibernation, or in hiding. I think I still am. I am not even sure if I am ready to be here, to hold this space, to open the door and let anyone in, but here I am. Scared witless and struggling, but still here.

For the last year or so I have had the worst writers block I have ever experienced. It was only today that I finally accepted the truth – that I was not only finding it difficult to write, but that I have been actively avoiding it. For someone who believes in living ones truth, I have been living a lie. Or lots of little lies. Lies of omission.

I haven’t finished the book I was writing. A book I know is meant to be birthed into this world, a book with a due date that is past due, a book that should be nestled on my shelves with the scent of fresh ink. A book I have let down repeatedly by not giving my best, my all, my heart and soul, my truth. I stand still with anger, and the pages remain blank.

Here is the painful truth. I first write to clear my mind, then to open the floodgates of my soul, and then to pour myself and my stories onto the page. To feel the flow of words where the magic of creation happens. I cannot write with a cluttered mind, and my mind is cluttered. The floodgates are jammed with debris, the flow slowed, and the magic out of reach…. because I won’t let myself write the words I need to write. I am creating the blockage, I am the clutter, I am holding myself back, I am holding myself in. It is not that I cannot write, it is that I am afraid to. The words that need to spill out of me are personal, emotional, ugly and revealing. I need to turn my blood to ink and then bleed all over the page in ways that other people may find unpleasant and uncomfortable because what I need to write are all the reasons I could not write. I am afraid that in telling my stories, I will be telling the stories of all those connected to me. I censored myself so much, in fear and compromise and consideration of others, that I taped my own mouth shut.

vulnerability

 

Enough is enough. I am on a journey to the underworld, and like Inanna I will strip myself bare to face the truth of love and loss. Through the dark half of this year I will turn my inner journey outwards and as the world awakens, so shall I.

I shall be vulnerable, and I shall be strong.

 

 

Thank you World, I needed that. Maybe we can talk again tomorrow.

 

 

Bright Blessings,

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hearth altarAs part therapy and part devotional writing practice, I often use writing prompts given to me. I don’t know what I will be given, and I don’t know what I will write, I simply put pen to paper and let it form before me. These prompts can be an amazing technique for getting over writers block, or for self analysis and self exploration. I don’t think about the prompt too much, I don’t usually edit what words hit the page, and after the fact I often find myself surprised by what is created within the spilled ink. It is as if the deepest parts of me surface, and the small snippets of subconscious become a focus for conscious meditations. Today I was given the prompt “If I were a house, my walls would be…”

I fully expected that the word ‘walls’ would bring forth ideas of boundaries, defensiveness, perhaps even raise the many challenges I have faced this last year. As always, I surprised myself.

If I were a house, my walls would be cracked and patched with plaster and paint. They would be old and new, rough and smooth. Layered with years of paint in various colours, reflecting the seasons and reasons of my life. Here and there, holes still remain from pictures long since removed. Art peppers the walls in muted, rich and earthy tones; pictures and paintings and fabric hangings. To the stranger, a single glance would reveal a creative and artistic house, beautiful and uplifting. It would take a renovator, someone who understands the nature of broken things, to see the cracks and repairs beneath the surface. Someone who knows how much time and effort goes into gentle repairs and careful redecoration. Someone who knows how to make old, tired and broken things beautiful again with love and belief. My walls show the story of a house made a home with perseverance and pride.”

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Writing prompts are endlessly revealing. Take the time today to put pen to paper and let yourself be surprised.

Blessings, Romany

Broken_Heart_by_Chain_sawIt is possible to drown in ones tears.

I know.

I died a little this last dark and new moon.

The funny thing is, I have been drowning for quite a while. Every tear has been adding to the pool around me, threatening to engulf me, as I have turned my head this way and that, kicked my feet, and tried desperately to keep my head above water. Most of the time I succeeded, although there were many occasions I thought I was going under. It isn’t surprising, but it is terrifying. I feared drowning in my sorrow, feared what it would mean, feared the possibility that I would never surface again. I feared dying inside. So I fought endlessly, pushed myself, sought comfort and support. I just kept swimming. (more…)

triple-goddessIt was during the very womanly act of pregnancy that I lost my sense of womanliness. In the act of becoming a mother, that I let go the other parts of feminine self. I lost myself, I lost my sense of sacredness, my sense of sexuality. I felt adrift from myself. It was on the journey to rediscover the sassy, confident woman I once was that I first fell in love with the luscious Lady Lister. Not a woman who has all her shit together, not a woman filled with shoulds and quick fixes, but a woman totally immersed in the sacred act of being her messy, beautiful self. In her passion, I learned to listen to my own passions. In circles with other women, I learned to listen to others asking the same questions as myself, and better yet we all encouraged each other to find those answers within. With the sacred She behind me, I got up off my knees and started walking towards myself. I came home to myself.

Part of that process was getting to grips with my body once more. Not just rediscovering my sexuality, not just learning to love my ever changing form, but actually understanding my personal cycles and seasons. Getting to know my monthly flow and how that affects me throughout all aspects of my life was a game changer for me. Suddenly I understood how to time my periods of productivity, activity, creativity and rest with my natural body rhythm. I stopped pushing myself to meet deadlines on days when I knew I would feel tired and emotionally drained, and I started booking more networking activities around the peak of my fertility cycle. My stress levels lowered, I became more conscious of my personal needs, and overall I coped with my day to day life better – all because I stopped treating my monthly bleed as a burden and started working with it instead of against it.

This whole learning curve was inspired by Lisa Lister and her desire to support women in unlocking their own lady code. I listened and watched as Lisa pulled together her knowledge and wrote the book known as Code Red: Know Your Flow, Unlock Your Super Powers + Create a Bloody Amazing Life. Period.

Code Red“So, there’s a code.
A lady code.
It’s ancient, it’s deeply spiritual and more than that, it’s powerful.
Fiercely powerful.
So powerful that it’s barely been spoken about in over 2,000 years.

Your menstrual cycle.

Yep, your period is way more than PMS, carb cravings and lady rage, your menstrual cycle/period/ragtime/ – insert whatever you call your ‘time of the month’ here – is actually a 4-part lady code, that once cracked, will uncover a series of monthly superpowers that can be used to enhance your relationships with others, build a better business, have incredible sex + create a ‘bloody’ amazing life.

Code Red, from the creatrix of thesassyshe.com, Lisa Lister, is a call to action. A rallying cry thats calls you to explore, navigate and most importantly, love your lady landscape.

You’ll learn how to live and work in complete alignment with the rhythms of nature, the moon and your menstrual cycle, be inspired by insights from Wise and Wild Women like Meggan Watterson, Alexandra Pope and Uma Dinsmore Tuli and gain access to easy-to-follow strategies and SHE flow practices. You’ll be invited to re-connect with your true nature as a woman, tap into the transformative power of your innate feminine wisdom and use your menstrual cycle as an ever-unfolding map to crack your lady code.”

Honestly, I cannot recommend this book enough – and I am not the only one. Get down and dirty with yourself, learn the power of the period, and find your rhythm. Go on ladies, the sacred She is calling you.

“Code Red is a modern priestess guide for women to go within and use their feminine cycles to lead the good life.  Lisa Lister is sounding the call for you to heal your cycle, accept your ever changing body, and honor your feminine soul. This is the essential foundation and practice for you to get in your ‘FLO’ and  become the powerful force of nature that you are designed to be!”
Alisa Vitti, Hormonal Health Expert and Author of WomanCode

“Lisa Lister doesn’t mess around. She’s here to break boundaries and barriers that have been created by what society defines ‘normal’ and in turn, remind us what’s real. Teaching and leading other girls to honour their divinity inside and out is no easy task and for that reason alone, I respect Lisa wholeheartedly. As far as I’m concerned, Lisa is part angel, part goddess and part rocker – she writes in a way that’s friendly, honest and captivating. This book is filled with ‘aha!’ moments from beginning to end. Let Code Red help you recognize your monthly flow – as a reminder you are fiercely feminine.”
Kyle Gray, Bestselling Author of Angel Prayers

Want

Posted: March 7, 2015 in Inner Journey, Poetry
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The Sensual Eye

The Sensual Eye

I don’t want to be here

I want to be there with you

Skin on skin

Dripping hot wax onto your flesh, cooling it with my breath

Scratching it off with my fingernails

I want hot lips and tongues leaving wet trails that cool into shivers

I want teeth nipping and biting

Fingers tangled in hair

I want to feel your body rise and reach towards my fingertips

I want back arching, lip biting, gasping, pushing, pulling, fighting for control, losing control love

Primal needs met in the language of moans and whimpers

Howling at the moon together

I want to feel possessed by passion

Lost in lust

Lose myself and find myself in the torture of touch

I want, I want, I want

(C) 2015 Romany Rivers

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Arise

Posted: March 2, 2015 in Inner Journey, Poetry
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Country Diary : Crows fly through branches of a tree
I awoke to a hundred crows perched upon the trees
Surrounding the boundaries of my property
Their cries harsh and hypnotic,
Falling over one another with the urge to speak.
A rhythm emerged, like clocks slowly syncing over time
Then silence sneaked in
Three lonely cries
And all did rise
Black upon the lightening sky
With drum beat of pounding wings
Leaving me windswept and reeling
Bereft in the quiet dawn

(c)2015 Romany Rivers

hearth altarI have long been trying to live in the now. To be present in each moment. To let go of my past and to stop grasping at unknowable futures. To be open, receptive, aware. Willing to be who I am, where I am, right now. It is a challenge.

Much of the time my mind whirls with memories of the past and possibilities for the future. My emotions fluctuate around previous experiences, or tangle themselves into hope, anxiety or concern for the future. I react to life as it happens, and my reaction times are slow. I worry about what might be. I grieve over what was. So I sought to become less reactive and more proactive. I tried to tune into each moment as it happened, to process it like raindrops swelling my inner rivers. I tried spiritual techniques, mental tricks, psychological methods. I affirm my connection to the here and now. I practice mindfulness. I meditate. I let go.

I realised that we are never truly in the present moment, we may come close, but we simply cannot immerse ourselves in the now. We need time to process our understanding of now, and the greater the lesson, the longer the arc of understanding. Even listening to my own heartbeat takes the time of feedback and interpretation, but listening to my heart and its desires takes longer, listening to the hearts and desires of others longer still. We are never truly now or then, we are always somewhere in the middle. Like Janus we have twinned faces looking back at past and towards the future – a body in the present, and a mind split between what was and what will be. We are never fully present, even in the present moment.

The present is the past before you are able to grasp its importance and significance. And the unknown future is upon us before we even avert our gaze from that which just was. The importance of a single moment takes time to realise, yet it is the time in between experience and understanding that unravels the truth. This is the time when we listen, learn, understand and integrate the importance and value of every now. Therefore even if the only moment we have is now, it is the liminal times that we both seek and treasure. The liminal times may be brief and in sharp relief, or they may stretch over years as we slowly come to terms with that which once was, and with that one moment that changed everything.

This was my lesson, hard learned. By striving to remain present, I fell through the cracks of time and discovered the in between. The dusks and dawns of my own understanding. I live in the liminal times.

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“Some would even say that love is the most complex [emotion] of them all. If for no other reason than within those four letters lay all emotions.”- Tony Lantz

BW Sex3We love in cycles and waves, in tidal pulls that tug us off our feet. We speak of love and loss each time we lose our balance and are swept away on the currents. We ride high on the crests of the waves, soaring free. We are dashed against the shore and rise shaking and exhilarated. We turn our backs and try to find our feet on shifting sands. We take a deep breath and dive headlong back into the swells. We fall in love, we fall out of love. We fall.

Love is what it is, for the heart wants what the heart wants, and yet love is also an emotion that can be nurtured, grown, discovered or revealed. Love is sometimes not enough to sustain the kind of relationships we want, love is sometimes not enough to meet the expectations of those around us, yet love is always enough. Even loving into the void between us is enough. Love is pain and pleasure, heartache, heartbreak, joy and laughter. Love is the twin of grief, for we could not hurt so deeply if we do not love so deeply. Love is vulnerability. Love is release. Love is without expectation. Love is the altruistic act of being open, present, and compassionate, with honour and respect for others regardless of their response.

Love is a storm that we can hide from, shutting our doors and windows to the chaos of feeling, or we can choose to stand in the centre of it with open arms, raise our voices to the winds, and let the wildness lift our spirits and cleanse our souls. Its power and fury can overwhelm us, knock us off our feet, even send us running to safety. In lashes of rain and whipping wind we are stripped bare and raw, exposed and vulnerable, blinded and unbalanced, but our very being soaks in the nourishment to be found within the raging tempest. Love beats down upon our upturned faces or bowed heads, seeking entry to our deepest selves. It feeds us, refreshes us, gives us fuel to grow.

We love, even when it feels like love has left us behind. We love even when the walls that contained it crumble around us. We love even when the well is drying up; we still thirst for the last drops hidden in the darkest recesses. We love with salt tears, wet cheeks, tired eyes, and bitter taste upon our tongue. We love when there is nothing left but love. We love because that is all we can do.

Love is what it is. And it is both simple and complex, for we are both simple and complex.

We are love.

 

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This blog post was inspired by random conversations with Tony Lantz. Thanks for the thought provocation sweetheart.

Epstein QuoteI try not to regret the things I have done, because at some point it must have been what I wanted. Even if it simply seemed like a good idea at the time, but in hindsight was a terrible idea, harmful and hurtful in its teachings. I do often regret the things I didn’t do, the opportunities I missed, the times I said no even when a part of me was screaming ‘Fuck, yes!’ The times I said no from fear or a sense of not being capable, or not worthy or not good enough. I look back on those missed opportunities and wonder where I would be today, or who I would be today, or how much richer and wiser in experience I would be had I followed through on those chances.

Every experience has made me the woman I am today, for good or ill. Each yes and each no has shaped me in some way. If only I had been brave enough, smart enough, creative enough, more confident, more willing, more daring. If only I had said yes instead of no, or no instead of yes. If only I valued myself more. If only I had chosen a different path. (more…)