Human Fragility

Oceans filled with the lost, a quiet storm on the edge, raging inside, thoughts beating against the mind. desperation blew through and a yearning unfurled when the storm sank, all that remained, glittered in the dusk.

Human Fragility

November 2016

All that we perceive as fragile is not a weakness but very much a part of our shared humanness.


Life’s parts

I looked up tonight and saw the moon

had made her appearance in the dusky sky,

For a moment I was stunned

and snapped her picture on my phone,

and soon the rain began to patter,

lightly in the garden

you could hear it on the barn

as though an angel had told the passing cloud,

now’s a good time,

so the little rhythm carried on

like a gentle note of its part in life

until it passed through and I knew,

that was life’s sweeter part.

A touch of Mercury

invite every iteration 

of this fiendishly capricious,

but really,

sorely misunderstood god[dess] –

you may know them

going by the name of 


with the coins flipping through her fingers 

and eyes sparkling with gold…

lady luck, 

with the lovely scent of fortune trailing in her wake –

over for tea. 


From Etymology online, the earliest meaning of the word Mammon:

personification of riches and worldliness, mid-14c., from Late Latin mammona, from Ecclesiastical Greek mamōnas, from Aramaic mamona, mamon “riches, gain;” a word left untranslated in Greek New Testament (Matthew vi.24, Luke xvi.9-13), retained in the Vulgate, and regarded mistakenly by medieval Christians as the name of a demon who leads men to covetousness.

I took the creative liberty of re-casting Mammon as the feminine and mischievous personification of wealth, with a touch of Mercury…

the messenger god of commerce, travel, trickery, wealth pertaining to luck, communication and wilyness with words… belonging to the Roman pantheon. He reminds me a little of Loki from Norse mythology… but only as far as the trickery goes.



What is my goal here? Who am I writing for? Why am I sharing?

To be honest, I don’t know. There are differing impulses. I like this quote,

I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.

Joan Didion

A part of me simply likes the process of watching words form. To write the insights that come, all the whimsy, the moody and the existential. It’s like a cherry. It’s the cherry for me. I’m obsessional. Actually. The more I observe myself, the more I realise this. All suffering and insecurity is created from attachment. It’s very Buddhist. And intellectual.

And I felt that today.

I wrote it down.

And I wondered… that’s new. Even though the words hadn’t changed. They were changed for me. I let go.

Like triggers being beautiful because they’re an opportunity to work on what’s coming up.

It’s easy to say that and think they make total sense. And in the middle of the triggers… I’m gone. You know? Like… this spiral has a hold of you and you’re just on the ride.

Like someone saying, you are not your thoughts or your beliefs. Observe them.

It makes total sense. And then in the middle of being hijacked by a rogue thought or sabotaging belief… you’re totally on the rollercoaster.

I’ve been there so many times and didn’t even realise I was on the ride. Like having a dream and not realising you’re dreaming unless you’re a lucid dreamer.

Sometimes the thoughts overlap each other before they have time to fade into the echos of my mind. A bunch of synapses firing.

And me.

Taking the neural pathways with the deepest grooves. Until I realise I can choose my thoughts.

Why don’t you try loving the parts of yourself that you’re repressing? Love the chaos and the darkness. Love the ferocious. Love the parts of you that are self-sabotaging and negative. Love all those parts. Especially, love your messiness, your judgements, your destructiveness. Love her. Love her wild. Love yourself wild… Love with your entire being

and hold nothing back.

You are the one living this life. You are the one in this drama called life, playing the roles you’re playing.

You get it?

I understand the intellectual realm that a thought exists in… before I understand it on the emotional, in my body.

That’s where the change happens.

Here’s a poem that emerged from a totally different poem:

over there in the temple of flowers,

the leaves whip by in the wind

and soar into the tipped outline of feathered wings

they do this every day,

somewhat cheekily as they tickle by your ears

and ask,

are you my tree?

Ideas looking for a home

Some time later as I come back to it… I’m like oh.

It’s not that the curtains are a melancholic blue because the person is depressed and meticulously picked the blue curtains to symbolise that. Although, there is something moody and poetic about it, the poetics are better when actively cultivating communication with the unconscious. It’s that the unconscious communicates its desires, anyway.

It’s that depression is asking for attention. For your love. To see, why you are being choked softly to death whilst living and breathing in this body of yours.

It’s that depression gets your attention. Sadly, we don’t know what to do with it. We don’t know how to make it ‘go away’. We don’t know how to open the lid to the can of worms, enter the labyrinth… what metaphor have you… eat from the apple tree of Eden. Does that one even work? Maybe we need to re-claim our birthright to knowledge. That suffering is part of the human condition. That we’ll all experience suffering if we’re human, even if we’re not – animals feel pain too – that suffering can be experienced by every living creature.

Do animals instinctively live in the present? The what is? The now? Maybe they have something to teach us.

If we were flying with the geese on their migratory journey, we’d be in awe, at their intelligence. So much that it gives me goosebumps, at how their compassion for each other is intrinsically wired into their intelligence. On another level, I can take it out of this realm of feeling… channel a little Darwinism and suggest, that is how they survive. Evolutionarily speaking, this is required for their survival.

But with the former perspective, maybe we’d be humbled. With the latter, we have not questioned our dominance over the Earth and the natural world.

With the former maybe we’d be more curious about what education is and what it teaches. Maybe we’d be more curious on learning how to accept every single emotion and thought that arises in our being without insisting on the right or wrongness of any of them. Maybe we’d have a level of respect and awe for this world and every creature in it… on a deeper life and death level.

The paradigm would shift.

In reference to the previous post I made, Why I don’t have a god, I would have to add, god is not outside of ourselves and neither is satan.


Lets wake up together

Some things come into bloom with such violence;

a passionate affair for life, for instance – 

to live with ones heart beating in the ribcage; 

numbered thrums of being alive –

where do i go? 

with the questions?

where do i go? 

to lay my head down on a mossy bed,

green and damp

cheek to the earth 

and tell her i’m sorry? 

where do i go? 

bare feet tapping 

into the wilderness of ones heart,

into the wilderness of my mother,

into the wilderness of my children, 

into the vast wilderness

with the blooming promise 

of the present moment;




lets wake up together.