Yoga Nidra


 
                        clouds.
             the
       in
Up  

Away 
        with 
              the
                        fairies.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

~

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To be healed is having an awareness that you were never broken

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Falling Awake


 
I paddle my bed
into the still-existing bathroom
and stare at my face in the mirror.

The floor is an ocean.
The wall is a door.
The windows no longer exist.

In the frame
I see a woman dancing,
held captive to a thousand strings.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

~

If this poem has stirred things up for you or made you realise there are things in your life you would like to resolve, please feel free to visit my contact page or email me me to discuss both these things and the possibility of our working together in the future to accomplish these things.

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To be healed is having an awareness that you were never broken

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Unexpected gifts


 
All around town,
balconies drip plant pot water
into the street –
forming puddles where,
for weeks,
we have had no rain.

Passing underneath,
I get caught on the head:
a blessing from the sky.
Which helps me later,
when I am blessed again:
only this time my benefactor can fly. 

by Rebecca L. Atherton

 
If this poem has stirred things up for you or made you realise there are things in your life you would like to resolve, please feel free to visit my contact page or email me me to discuss both these things and the possibility of our working together in the future to accomplish these things.

Or, to book an appointment directly, see my contact page.

To be healed is having an awareness that you were never broken

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The morning after

The morning after the full moon
there are seagulls everywhere
and crickets cling to the breeze.

The trees are alive with feathered song,
and somewhere far away where I cannot see
a cuckoo speaks.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

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Baa Baa, Black Sheep

image
Things keep breaking inside my house
and I seem to spend every spare moment fixing them.

I seek comfort in a warm cup,
my bed, and the gentle rhythm
of two needles going clickety clack.

Slowly nothing becomes substance
until eventually a blanket appears.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

image

To be healed is having an awareness that you were never broken

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Close to my chest

image
Reacquainting with old friends,
I stand confused,
unsure of who I am greeting,
twin locks of gold spinning before my eyes,
almost identical in nature.

And yet, there is a discrepancy –
of gender, of age –
if only I could see fit to figuring it out.

Picking my words carefully,
I say ‘hello’ from a distance,
one step removed,
waiting for those on the other side
to take the lead.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

To be healed is having an awareness that you were never broken

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Learning to dance again

Opening a closed heart can be dangerous;
especially if you have not adequately prepared.
Just look at Pandora and what happened to her!
In the end though, there is no other way:
denial only prolonging what will one day find a way out.

Navigating extreme feelings –
emotions that threaten to overwhelm
the casing in which they reside –
I battle the urge to run backwards,
something external holding me to the floor.

Placing hands on parts I have for years now
happily suppressed – suffocating, starving,
ignoring… until they appeared to die –
I listen as they wake back up:
hungry, angry, needy.

Tears fall, sobs escape, screams wrench
and I keen like a mother grieving an infant: open, raw, exposed.
And while it might take a while,
for the denial runs deep:
even this small freedom is a respite.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

To be healed is having an awareness that you were never broken

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In subtle ways

Standing in the shadows, I cannot see you.
Walking behind me, I miss the help you give.
Yet you are there; people attest to this.

When the sky is grey,
when the land is wet,
when the air is cold and crisp;

when my body aches,
when my heart is heavy,
when my mind is full of clutter:

a flash of colour,
a burst of song,
an unbidden smile,

a stranger’s kindness,
a shaft of light,
a falling feather…

In subtle ways on countless days
you light my journey
and I feel your love.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

To be healed is having an awareness that you were never broken

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Sweet Surrender

image
The flower opens to receive a friend.

Satisfying an inner thirst,
the empty becomes complete.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

To be healed is having an awareness that you were never broken

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Scrying 

image

1.

A pelican sits on a rock
alone in the centre of a circle,
the circle of a cup.

The Rock is like a tree,
with roots that reach into the centre,
travelling into the sea.

They descend,
like a trail of dirty water,
like the body of a snake,
like the arms of an octopus –

reaching,
stretching,
slithering,
sliming…

pushing down;
taking everything,

until the pelican is left:
master of a puddle,
lord of a stump.

2.

Turn him upside down
and he becomes an angel,
a back-to-front J.

J for Jeremial:
problem-solver,
dream-enhancer,
life-fixer,
He who helps those who are stuck.

He is also the angel of death,
but I don’t think this particular point
is applicable here;

unless the meaning is
part of what since
has passed.

3.

Above the angel is a trunk:
of rock,
of wood,
of light;

a trunk that is a portal,
to both the pelican
and God.

Standing beneath this shaft,
showering in all that comes over:
he fills his soul up,
then disappears into the All that Is.

4.

Horses gallop across the sky.
A crow complains.
A dog looks at the moon;
howls…

And in amongst it all –
in an indistinct nowhere,
in an irrelevant somewhere:

a woman unravels,
beginning to stand up.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

image

To be healed is having an awareness that you were never broken

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