Thank you for your beautiful words Peacock poetry.
This is dedicated to those who let us cry……
I noticed in the very fresh stages of grief that some people just didn’t know where to put themselves. Some avoided all reference to any remotely personal line of conversation and some gave me a wide berth as my grief obviously challenged their ability to be with their own emotions. Others wanted to make suggestions and give advice and there were also those that used the opportunity to offload their own repressed grief, relieved for the opportunity to make a socially acceptable connection through my circumstances. This was challenging as quite frankly I was dealing with my own shit and did not have the energy to bolster others in the way which usually came so naturally.
None of this was anyone’s fault of course. We are so ill-prepared to deal with our own grief let alone anyone else’s. There is no manual for these sort of situations and we are…
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I caught a glimpse of paradise…
“Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”
― Mark Twain
I’ve been touched by great kindness,
compassion blew me home.
I’ve tasted the sweetest mercy
and known I’m not alone!
Under love’s canopy,
I was led back to the light.
Called out of darkness,
restoration to my sight!
I was lost in a dark forest,
overgrown with despair,
pitiful and broken,
I was lifted by your care!
Unworthy to be seen,
in my pit of shame.
Your tender touch awoke me
and fanned my fragile flame!
A treasured possession,
no judgement in your sight,
the loving care of kindness
was a balm to my plight!
confess their shame,
if the walls
compassion is what
I have lived with several Zen masters — all of them cats.”
― Eckhart Tolle, The Power of Now: A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment
Today we had to say goodbye to our beloved, bright eyed Kittie Kat. She came to live with us seven years ago and crept into our hearts.
She was a mole hunter par excellence and delighted in the yearly Moth festival in our bathroom.
She especially loved bird bath and shower water, but also had a palate for the finer things in life, like steak and fish.
She was on the welcoming committee whenever we had guests and would be there to say goodbye when they left.
She loved our garden and would spend hours sunbathing, bird watching, smelling flowers and generally living in the moment. She was my Zen master.
She went travelling with us one year and was very proud of her achievements, like catching giant sized City rats.
She has gone to the rainbow bridge in the sky to be with my beloved doggies and I hope they are prepared to be her doormen for the rest of eternity.
I will miss her soft, yet scratchy cuddles and that little meow every morning when I woke up and she was waiting impatiently for her breakfast.
I feel she was taken from us too soon, but it was unbearable seeing her suffer.
She will always be our fur baby!
“I am weary of personal worrying,
in love with the art of madness.”
― Jalaluddin Rumi
Thrown back into powerlessness,
a spacious place to dwell.
Immersed in a sea of forgiveness,
absorbed by a transforming swell.
Galloping through pastures of freedom,
into the acceptance of being,
while winds of contentment are blowing
watching resentment flee.
I would like to exist here forever
where redemption songs can be heard,
my eyes still on the horizon,
no breath of love disturbed.
I can hear the applause of heaven,
as the Universe sways in glee,
and the stars are transmitting signals
to eradicate foreboding debris.