I’m fascinated by rhythm; rhythm of the day, the seasons and emotional rhythm. I cannot imagine my life without tapping into that rattle and hum and I can’t imagine what it would be like if I did not record my thoughts and feelings in my journal each day.
The constant flow of life intoxicates me with this beat – the narratives coiled within provide the sheet music and people are the actors. People everywhere – toddlers heading off on new adventures, people avoiding eye contact – stare – not stare – people scanning newspapers other encroaching on passers by with their penetrating voyeurism. People pushing boundaries and stepping into aura and personal space – push a little close and cop a free feel if they time it right.
The stage is crowded - the hum-drum is fever pitched exploded by the shrill of tantrums or lulled by the bliss of lovers whispering their secret dialogue inter-dispersed with eyelashes fluttering timely winks.
Even though we plan and plot – read and navigate our path – even though we integrate the learning from astrology and numerology – we seem to blithely traverse the unchartered corridors of the maze of life.
The impossible becomes possible – the ordinary seeps into the background of a life unlived.
Some people carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.
Some are so animated they light up the night sky with their smile and electrified aura – they whisk you away to imaginary lands on the winkle of their eye – they are fetching – enticing – summoning you to the wonderment of their breath.
It’s a number seven day; the journey within – it is a day that always reveals something – so be aware and not alarmed. Look within and receive the answers. Where will the next step take you? Where does your path lead? Is this your destination or another bus stop beckons on the highway to freedom?
My morning reading explores certain truths; Temperance the detached, philosophical approach. The Moon aligns with the desire to create and perform on the stage of life. And the Chariot stalled at the cross-roads – contemplating the next move.
My conveyance is stalled – the exchange of contacts has been put on hold while the real estate agents (two of them) lobbying for the share the commission. The current agent is being magnanimous however it is the one that we stepped away from wants his share for doing nought. Meanwhile the customer, my husband and me are left carrying the debt and our poor purchaser wants to move in urgently. We are disappointed that the first agent feels entitled to a share of the commission and continues to do everything in his power to hold up the sale.
Last night my husband and I agreed that we are prepared to pull out of the deal and put the property back on the rental market and try again later this year. We will vet all potential purchasers to make sure that they haven not had a conversation with any other agent.
I find this situation ghastly and yet fascinating in some macabre way. I moved to Coffs Harbour some yeas ago to seek solace and find Nirvana and now my exodus has been excruciating. As I release the outcome the scars begin to heal.
Love, Peace and Happiness,
Julia Ashton-Sayers
SIREN’S SONG
Bombarding birds swept, screeched and thrust themselves at the ship below. The seas tumultuous, no where to go. Captain tied to the mast, wax stuffed in their ears avoiding the imminent death of the Siren’s song.
Waves crashed the deck
Birds of prey flew into peck
at their bodies, their eyes, wanting them
to die, die, die!
Rowing blind past the rocks
holding on tight chained in their stocks
they worked so hard to avoid the inevitable
destruction, death and damnation.
The Death song surrounded them that day
Their strength, the courage that they displayed
Was true to their souls
for they would not grow old
as they passed into the bosom of the sea
remembered by you and by me
a victim, a hero of the chilling Siren’s Song.
THE END
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