Owls and Orchids

image from litaburke.com

“It is the function of art to renew our perception. What we are familiar with we cease to see. The writer shakes up the familiar scene, and, as if by magic, we see a new meaning in it.”
Anais Nin

From time immemorial the weavers of dreams; the writers, the poets, the storytellers of old have judged what they have done. Most have felt or asked themselves if their work or art is lacking. They have striven for more, a perfection which exists only within their own hearts and minds, a reflection of their own soul.

I cannot claim to belong to the august company of the likes of Robert Burns, Aristotle, Plato, Shakespeare, Wordsworth or Banjo Paterson and yet the questions remain the same. Is what I offer you  good enough?  Have I managed to convey my thoughts, ideas, feelings to you. Have I brought to life the things which dwell inside my heart and mind so that you can see through my eyes?

Lofty ideals they may be, but at their heart is the desire to connect. To be able to connect with you, so that you will hopefully want to come back to read more, perhaps in time, even become a friend.

I cannot say I am a “simple man”, as   Oscar Wilde  said, “I’m a man of simple tastes. I’m always satisfied with the best.”   In my case, I cannot say I am a “simple woman”,  since that would be misleading. Yet I want what most of us want; to be connected in a meaningful way to others. In this case, the people who write and read what I have written.

I am psychic, something  I have avoided for a long time since it caused a few problems in the past. I see and hear things others do not and most strongly I feel things, often very deeply. I am truly an empath. In fact being so strongly empathic in one of my past careers made things almost tortuous at times. As a police officer who can connect with the people they are interacting with, feeling their pain, hurt, fear, all the emotions of those they are communicating with in distressing circumstances is not necessarily an easy burden.  It definitely made things more interesting and much more complicated.

So, as I write, there are elements of things I’ve seen, heard or felt at one time or another. It’s a slow process to release some of these emotions since some are laced with great pain as the event is relived.  Portions only may come to light at any one time as part of an other story.  I’m drawn to the moon as a magnet is drawn to a lodestone, a past life connection coming through from medieval days perhaps.

image from  www.crystalinks.com

Then suddenly I find myself writing poetry, something I haven’t done since school. It’s possible it’s done inexpertly yet the words and feelings come from a place I cannot find in more rational moments.

So,  in answer to “Where is my Inspiration Coming From”  I offer you a compilation of who I am. I am a sceptic and cynic at times, a muse and deeply spiritual person all the time, someone who is an open book yet also complex. In short, I am  a person like you who wants to put her thoughts and feelings “out there.”

At present I am the dreamer, asleep under the magical Hawthorn tree, awaiting the moment when I can take flight as a powerful owl soaring through the skies, silent and watchful. I will wait for Merlin of old to return and teach me his lore, and hope he may stay with me much longer this time.

Do you think you might stay with me a while as I meander through my travels? Through the everyday and the mystical, the spiritual and the mundane, until you see that in poetry or prose, magic and spirit dwell within the soul of each of us.  Perhaps you can see Merlin as we wander along our country byways.

image from http://www.friendburst.com

Not my own work but a poem loved by my Grandfather and given to me as a child.

The life that I have

Is all that I have

And the life that I have

Is yours.

The love that I have

Of the life that I have

Is yours and yours and yours.

A sleep I shall have

A rest I shall have

Yet death will be but a pause.

For the peace of my years

In the long green grass

Will be yours and yours and yours    written by Leo Marks and used as a poem code in the Second World War.

Bright Blessings and calm journeys always.  Susan x