Enchanted spells


My mind is unable to recall falling into a slumber swiftly so serene that when my eyes lazy, jolt open in surprise sudden, I find I am floating mid-air bat like in the fragile scent of sandalwood. Unsteadily I steady myself from toppling over characteristically clumsy. Sunset orange burning walls carelessly rejoicing in heat hissing against their damp coolness. Hypnotic rhymes of cheerful waves crash gently in the background blind to my vision blurred. I reach a new level of oddness. Amongst this strangeness suspiciously unsurprising, the Guru appears as the only familiar norm. A picture perfect warrior poised artistically as a father proud in full blossom. Crimson silk hovers around his slender bones, a cloak clinging in bewildered excitement. A soft beacon of blueish light glistens from long tender fingers, sparks dripping wet paint like. My entire existence prickling in his dazzling glow gleaming in glory. Tingling electricity coats, my fluid spine, elated in a joy unexpectedly pleasant for now. I am temporarily free from my redundant disabilities. My magnificent moment interrupted by the gushing greed of a mighty tornado disturbing nothing else but me alone. The stoic Guru stern as I am boarded on the fury train of winds arrogant in their grand presence. Nothing daring to stand in its proud determination as it collects a prize perplexed. I am this prize, unaware in my own inner turmoil.

Defenceless, caught in a spell commanded not by my own will, with no choice of its course or direction, I follow the natural order unravelling. We can’t always control circumstances, could we? Shivering in the arms strong of a master forging his own charged path, I refuse resistance. I am learning, I remind the noisy panic in my head. Coldness craves the warm lull of the Guru, I swallow my sobs weeping. Fear tears its way into a heart choking in grim expectation. Freezing ice, chills cool bones into a place rigidly morbid. With an abruptness rough, the wicked tornado seizes just before it dumps my stiff tin body at the peak of a snowy mountain, shy. No longer able bodied. The winds rumble, a loud clap fierce in an accent faintly oriental.

“Sorry about the ride. These paths are testing.”

My throat sandpaper dry barely manages a few words in reply.

“What path are we on?”

My grunt gruff meets with a laugh boisterous.

“Only the Guru knows”

With that unhelpful declaration, I am left deserted on a mountain top caked in velvety snow crafting fragile ice sculpture fairies in deep concentration. The elegant snow show a welcome invitation into the unknown. What was the Guru plotting this time? Weary clouds grey blink in distrust, then disgusted turn away in agitated jitters. Shadows eery drift in their place as the desperate sun gives way to a moon modestly humble, slowly filling its void. Everything unusually frozen in time, long forgotten it seems. The overwhelmed mountain quivers nervously as if contemplating thoughts unspoken. I stand straight, shaking every stuck limb. The Tin Warrior is no fake feeble one. I got this. It’s a message of some kind. A fine hour for a performance spectacular. Whilst, in my own thoughts, I muster courage unwilling to present itself. I am a star, comically gifted. My mind mocks random thoughts trickling down my apprehensive consciousness. Accidentally, in my inner scrambling, I slip, falling on the smooth skin of snow, white.

“O-o-opps, d-d-deary, b-b-be c-c-careful n-n-now.”

Stumbles the mountain in a stutter slow.

“Where am I?”

I shout above the howling wind, which ironically chooses this wise moment to gather momentum. Sadly, the reply drowns in my own hysterical giggles that are cut short by the sharp sting of stone battered by age. The path blazing in mischievous silver moonlit mayhem. Before my offended eyes unfolds the horror of a 1000 rusting elderly steps, grinning facetiously. Egged on by the chatter of millions of wintry ice coated cherry blossoms, the scene animated in a wonder of its own enchanted making. At my presence intrusive, briefly rattled blossoms silently shake solemnly. The next second they continue their hushed musing. I’m irked by their immediate dismal ignorant. Invisible, even in bitter ice age. How dare they. Demands my undignified ego. I ignore the chaos. Focusing my attention at the task at hand. Bravely, I command feet cold to charge this uncertain course, of course they refrain rather defiantly. Afraid of the unknown. With one mighty thrust I plunge onto the first step, which in a startled ambush fires to life. Beneath the surface of the stone archaic an impressive order stirs to drunken life. A miraculous world of an ocean brimming in a full blooming pregnancy impulsively surges to wakeful reality. With each step forward, wonderfully majestic sea life displays miracles never seen by eyes captivated in such curiosity. Splendid biodiversity caught in a mesmerising opera orchestrated by gifted regal tang and rainbow parrot delight. The finale a spellbinding explosion of uniquely vibrant colours of harmonious companions working as one. Gentle jellyfishes applaud in proud victory at the exotic shower of purple coral teasing cheeky crabs clicking claws excited. I feel their ecstatic joy. This is happiness, I realise. Before I know it, my aged step adventure ends with the flippant flick of a mermaids grand silver tail. Glossy emerald swirls splash in a glittering rainfall as they serenade her in an attempt honourably brave. Boldly greeted with a cheer squabbling as an octopus withered, flamboyantly hands her a bouquet colourful of soft colours. For the first time in a long time, I am present in the moment without emotional inconsistency heaving down my terrified throat.


The moon winks in delicious delight, as if uncovering truth unseen by spectators innocent. A sensation strange stirs in my gut. Why does this feel familiar? Guided by the watchful moon, I begin to stalk the cracking earthy soil. The sea life wonder, lost amongst the living. The steps, again distressed as if nothing prevailed earlier. Disturbed by the loud pounding of my heart anxious, I stare ahead. At least I can name my feelings now. Progress, whoopee. The walk is a short one, I arrive beneath the towering guide of a temple dipped in crimson ink. It’s beautiful face hidden behind a mask of cruel snow. At my feet aching, a river of molten lava silver bubbles in watchful agony. A message coded curling in the midst of waves melting in melodrama. The scent of the ocean stirring in the air still. My body betrays its fear. Where the hell was I? Finally, adjusting to light dim, I seek the moon. It’s presence greatly needed. Do not be afraid, you are the mistress of your own destiny. The Guru means no harm. Mildly reassured by my own silent voice. Nothing could go drastically wrong, right? My attention is though diverted by a fin slicing through the gurgling lava luscious. Maybe my betrayed senses are deluded by the over excitement of today’s travel. My gut remains dormant.

“You have nothing to fear but yourself,” moans the husky tones of a stranger hidden.

The voice awakening a sleeping curse deep within, without warnings much. From the watercolours of metallic silver emerges a rare exquisite beauty breathing taking. I am unable to look away, shamelessly I stare in a trance. My throat throbs in nervousness. Her graceful milky skin bewitching in erotic submission. Its velvet smoothness coated in intricately embroidered tattoos of silver linings. Messages, I gather. It was blasphemous addiction to the unfathomable unnamed cult. Intoxicated high on her ecstasy. A rush powerful fighting it’s way into my blood stream. Her body a fossil primal imprinting a language peculiarly known to my mind dizzy in this unexpected elation. Deeply drawn into her enchanted mania, I watch the fragile patterns disappear into oblivion, only to re-emerge as fresh impressions of messages singing mutely. A hushed heat creeps to consciousness beneath my embarrassing blushing flesh. Redness marks my cheeks as I gawk at her blessed heart-shaped angular face, on which deliberately arranged artistry flutters in charismatic charm. Rosebud lips smile at my naked marvel. Wide set feline mocha fireworks are sheltered with lashes thick. A darkness lurks behind her light. Intently watchful, she tilts her chin to survey my appalling stunted tin demeanour. Long waves jet black bleed into the silver liquid cooing in slow harmony now. What is wrong with me? I am being a pervert. Stop it, I order myself. Disturbed by her musical laughter echoing in this hallow between us.

“You are no fool, my friend.”

Lost words choke to spluttering life, I gasp for air grappling to breathe.

“I … I … I … um … please forgive me.”

Dismissively, she waves frail fingers, impassively cool with my immature foolishness. She draws a light bow and arrow in the midnight hues, releasing rainbow birds into the night. I try to control my befuddled senses, clutching to some reality. I am here for a reason, it certainly wouldn’t be to fall in lust with the uniquely amazing creature before me. Fighting the dreamy pool of my mind, I force my unwilling eyes to avert away from her face remarkably pristine. I sense her awareness of my conflicted confusion, yet she does nothing to aid my unplanned obsession with her. Without indication, she swims to the edge of the temple, further away from me now. However, I am forced to follow her with my pleading gaze. Blueish purple sparkles ignite at her feet, roaring to passionate wakefulness as they make contact with her skin. Within seconds she is alight in a fire restless. My heart aches in quiet longing. Tears, far too exhausted to fall.

“You cannot hold fear in your heart and hope to live freely at the same time.”

Her words rising above the spectacular flames spitting viciously.

“I don’t understand any of this. Why am I here?”

“Why wouldn’t you be here? You are no longer running, so shouldn’t your question be, where next from here? If you always stand in the same place, you will yield the same outcomes. You are obviously here because the time has begun for you to move forward. Asking stupid questions will only set you back.”

“I am moving forward!” I shout over the hungry waves licking her flesh.

Her reply a sarcastic slap.

“You lie to yourself. You are tethered to your attachments, to your bindings, to your family. You are not fully free from those shackles. You simply tell yourself that soon you will move beyond them. All a fabricated web of deceit that spins out of control every time you fall in your own trappings.”

Shocked I choke on my own words. Smoke scratching my eyeballs. I want to deny it, yet I cannot. I run itching claws in my unruly hair, hoping sanity shows up soon. I know it will not. It is not over yet, by a long shot. Curses spring to my mouth, if only the Guru was here. The fire display dies in triumph, in its path moonlight twinkle shines a spot light on her allure. Surfacing in a satin samurai warrior armour, her hair braided in hundreds of plaits, a china doll. Her markings shimmering in zesty liveliness. A spell transfixed. My fate doomed. My mouth sealed shut. Taking a step towards where I am, she glides across the tamed inky metal.

“You and I, are one of a kind. All you need is to remember your inner warrior. You are the Tin Warrior for a reason. You must wake up, in order to reach the truth. Sadly, you fall under the lull of mediocrity. Tempted by flawed altruism to heal those unprepared to see beyond their very own illusions. Bleeding in the cycle of chaos to save anyone but yourself. You see but only until you feel the pain of others, then again without rationality you enter a hell of your own kindness. Designed- implemented-executed by your mighty self. You are no martyr, my love. You are a victim of your history. A history that you are at the cusp of escaping, only if you permit yourself the freedom. However, you leech onto the dead in futile hope that they will change.”

I am overpowered by the raging rattling of my troubled bones. The closer she reaches, the more I shake helplessly. Her words slaying through the deep-set slumber inside my gut. Coiling unexpected cool fingers against my scorching ones, she draws me into her creamy lava. It bursts into pools of sneering lamps staring in suspecting wonder. Anticipation hangs in the veil of the silky night. I want to speak but my lips remain sealed. Fingers tenderly stroke my cheek. Her fingers.

“Once, I was like you. Confined to a lifeless life, with nothing but attachment to a narrow-minded family. Without opportunities, hope, possibility. Trapped by a community uninterested in my desires, in my wonderful capabilities. Defined by my sexuality and gender. I was killed everyday by my own willful submission. I wished for death. I was not meant to be that girl. So many lifetimes seem to have lapsed since I was promised to a husband in rural India, my uterus repelling at its impending rape. I refused to live a lie. Dying everyday in the breast of furious oppression. I had no choice but to defy their honour and to walk away, without regretful shame. Nobody needs attachment, obligation, duty or bindings. Especially, when it is deliberately designed to control free will. Elaborately crafted to tie you down with conformed fear. Neither of us, a stranger to this manipulation. Break their hold. They do not see you. They will neither accept or understand you. You hang your soul to this infinite death sentence. You cannot die again, repeat again, only to struggle in the same crazy mess. You want to know why you’re here? This is why. Do you hear me?”

Melting ear drums ache as her words sink beneath disobedient long standing filters. The urge wicked to block her out. However, I fail miserably because her seductive spell, strips at resistance desperately holding on to its home. She threads her way through may plaque walls. Sweet earthy scent clings to many places inside. Running her fingers gentle across my lips, she tilts my chin. Her vibrations electrifying. My power of speech forsaken for her truth. A smile small spreads across her tantalising mouth just before she grazes her mouth against mine. Stunned in shock, I cave in her clasp. Embarking on a journey new. The half snowy temple coughs loudly at this sudden combustion of fireworks. Our eyes in a lock unbreakable. My wish for words no longer wishing.

“You are beautiful.”

Her voice faint against my neck as she traces my brittle collarbone coy. Her fingers surge into bright blue light. I manage a muffled thank you between my teeth shut tight. My thoughts cut short by hands swiftly shredding open my chest and forcefully clutching my afraid heart. Her fingers throb as beads of lava sweat glares at me. A whirlwind wild jump starts in my chest, suffocating my lungs. Blue heat beats through the chaos. The imprint of her lips burning my flesh. I fall into an enchanted spell as I watch her in a stupor. Her ink toying with my sensibilities. I have no comprehension of time or space. For this special moment we are one. Our lives interlocked by this stream of wonderful light. Her soft breath crashes against my skin as my heart skips a beat. This must be what heaven feels like. She grins, her eyes drifting shut. Her body moving to music noiseless. Her hands penetrating my heart with life brimming in a will to live. I further sink into her aura majestic. Eternal peace etching its way into my soul at last restored. I am home. The magnetic charge of this moment lusting eagerly at nothing beyond this. Being present wasn’t a curse bleak. Her hands continue to craft my heart into the unknown. Its beating paced, fearing no more. Resistance is futile because in the pit of my stomach, I know I belong here. This really is home.

A rapid movement shifts the current wiping it short, the offensive outburst, breaking her attention focused. She looks up, her eyes huge in confusion. I am shattered from her hold. Tiny pieces falling apart in motion slow. Exhaustion clings to broken parts severed from her bond blinding. With a dive dismissive, she sinks beyond the gushing lava, troubled by this treachery. Her fin waving a farewell final. I am swept up in the protective arms of the Madhatter, who gallantly rides an invisible horse upside down.

Snow begins to falls at our departure premature.

Everything a bleak blur from hereon.


We will meet again, dear precious souls. We will.

Photography credit to the original artists.


What’s your brand?

Our lives are defined by many labels that are given to us by others over the course of our lives. Branded by events, people, memories, emotions, lovers- the list endless. Saturated, consumed, plotted with brands promising to define our individual existence at every corner we turn. Then one day, we die in the arms of Mother Nature to be simply buried whilst wearing a chain of once what was. Our armour worn down. Our labels now meaningless. What would have given you meaning?

So, if you had the choice, what would your very own unique brand be? Let’s begin with designing our very own personal brand. I’m on the path of self discovery, thus my canvas blank at present. But in time it will fill with its own colour. Why not break this cycle? In the meantime, I wait to decide on my own brand and would love to hear your personal ones.


“Get up! Get up!”

Her glass like scream penetrates the thin veil of my mind tested beyond limits. I stumble over myself in clumsy despair. What did I deliberately walk into?

Fuming liquid metal stings eyes unfocused. Famished heat, wickedly envelopes the burning inferno of a hell, provoked by my very own heated desires. An illusion drowning. Flames lick my feet ravished raw by coal roasting. Chasing dreams, I find myself clawing the edge of reality farcical. The passion awakening in my sleeping heart, now dying at the hands of a Rebel Queen defiant. Silver curls long, tantalisingly dance with a ground cracking in wondrous awe. Her grand ruby crown arrogantly bemused at my performance pathetic. Agile ballerina limbs poised even in fury unspoken. Skin olive silk perspiring elaborately beneath burnt orange flames. Thoughtful sea green eyes, intensely watchful. Her nonchalant milk white dress carelessly on fire. Nothing at all, deterring her will, wilfully determined.

The boxing ring from the dirtiest corner of hell, alive in chaotic chatter. I had chartered waters mad in hope blind. Reality dipping slowly in insanity prevailing.

Wiping beads of sweat from a throbbing brow, I leap to my feet again. Toes small scolding. Every bone, dying to die. The Rebel Queen sneering at unspoken defeatist thoughts aloud. Razor claws digging in skin beautifully bruised. A match easily unmatched. Thrown off guard, by the piercing gaze of the Rebel Society goddesses, I fumble against rope sweating profusely. Quick thinking escapes my frazzling brain. The squealing cheers of the army of limes gathered in my support, break my resolve unfocused. Without any provocation, an intoxicated Absolem puffs hungry smoke in my distressed face. His purple wrinkled body cool against my explosive heat. Thankfully, the Rebel Queen temporarily blurred.

“Be like water my friend.” He slurs in a slow Asian accent.

My head snaps back, anticipation tingling in my gut. Instinct is fuelled with the need to survive. With quick jerky movements, cowardly I duck instantly. Her furious fists catching Mohammad Ali’s eye surprised. He vanishes beneath layers of rainbow smoke. Absolem’s disgruntled huff loud amongst the rising rebellion.

“You cannot hide from the truth.” Her velvet voice rings in quivering hell.

Her fellow worshippers chanting her song in a trance blind. The collective noise deafening. I roll my body to a corner, hoping Absolem appears with his bongo to ease my painful pain. Luckily, my fragile vessel is gripped firmly by twig fingers and dropped in the midst of snowflake candy floss. My skin sizzles beneath the icy coolness. I look up, my voice brittle.

“Thank you, Grand Tree.”

He shakes violently cold.

“Where are we?” I ask.

We both glance quickly at the lime soldiers building a snowman, an army enthralled in joyful silence. Concentrating deeply, they are unaware of my presence.

“1979. Where all beginnings begin.”

The grand trees reply reflective.

I spread my limbs, my metal wax lumpily solidifying randomly. I let out a choked sigh.

“I was born winter 1979”.

The Grand lime tree, shrugs a branch, slowly.

“Well, then you should know why you are here.”

A sadness lingers in his sultry tones. Moist eyes avoid burning ones. Something is wrong.

“You should choose your battles wisely Tiny Warrior.”

His voice barely audible.

My desire, simple: a new purpose. Yet, here I am battered because clearly I have again missed the point. What truth am I hiding from? And why start here to uncover it? I didn’t get much chance more to ponder.

The ground groans ungratefully underneath my bones shattering. It is a mark of rebellion failed. The Rebel Queen, a victorious leader of a kingdom enthralled. No mercy for my futile weakness granted. I didn’t belong in their world. I am shaken from my swirling thoughts by a gaping hole greedily swallowing me up. Abruptly, I find myself falling down a rabbit hole.





I fall in a void dark.

The Grand Tree’s sadness lingering in the earthy scent between us. I close my eyes, blotting out his image weary. Landing ungraciously on my back, tired arms limp and unladylike legs spread across the unwelcome floor. From where I am sprawled in a heap, my eyes catch his amber flickering. Swinging boldly on the glass chandelier, his face a mask stern. Something is certainly wrong. A loose pale shirt recklessly thrown over his chest broad, teasing. Silk emerald Aladdin pants loosely swaying around his legs. He throws arms wild above his head. His Afro in a bun high scrapes the edges of the suspicious ceiling. Both uncaring in their attitudes reckless. Light casts shadows over his angles sharp.

I moan, crawling to my feet agonised. Every bone creaking in a complaint unanimous. Rag doll like, I stand unsteadily. Clearing my throat dry I take a slow glance around the intimately abandoned tea party.

With acrobatic somersaults, the MadHatter lands before his audience imaginary. Curtseying like a ballerina waif, a grin toothy spreads across his cheerful face.

“Why hello Tin Warrior.”

My voice croaks a reply in a garbled mess.

“Wonderland, really?”

“It’s my home, I couldn’t give this a miss now, could I, oh so Little one?

He lets out a laugh evil, eyes rolling he wriggles his finely shaped eyebrows.

“Having fun, are you?” His voice dripping in concern fake.

Jesting, he takes a finger to softly touch my cheek bluish purple.

“Apparently, I have to begin at the beginning to find my truth.”

“Sounds about right. No? Yes? No? Hmm. Maybe?”

Popping a grape large in his mouth, he stares unashamedly.

“I have no idea what she expected. I wasn’t expecting an initiation. I was hoping I could join them so maybe my purpose might surface. Not to find myself broken down before a massive goddess gang.”

My throat hissing.

“Maybe that was the purpose. Nothing is ever black and white, my dear.”

His voice is a whisper. The air around us gathering in a current feisty. My hair stands on it’s unruly wild ends. The thudding of my heart thunderous. He observes, a statue silent. Fear licking to life in my gut. The violent knocking on the wooden door, frightening the both of us.

“Let it go.” Purrs the Rebel Queen.

Her presence invisible yet equally intimidating.

“Let us in! Let us in! Let us is now.”

Shriek the collective tribe of unwanted familiar strangers through the cowering door. Panic surges in my body, every fibre urging my feet to run. As I turn towards the door, the large hand of the hunts man yanks my hair.

“I am going to kill you. Smash you to tiny pieces. Don’t test my patience you stupid, stupid useless bitch.”

He spits in my face, teeth sharp stabbing at my already violated arm. Then without any indication, he shimmers into the Evil Queen Mother. Her fingers fine, delicately stroke my mane rebellious. Venom drips from her tongue poisonous. She hisses, her snake tongue slapping my cheek raw.

“It’s only a matter of time, you will die a lonely miserable fool. Unloved. Unwanted. Useless. Always a fool, a desperately pathetic fool.”

I push her away, my fingers scratching her white neck swan like. Her fading cackle thin in my ears. In her place, appear the three cloned step sisters. Fair tall maidens with locks gracing their knees, grim eyes like melting chocolate sweet. Rosebud lips curled in a sly snarl permanent.

“Dear, dear sister, daydreaming of a better life still? You know the sad truth? You are nothing but a waste of space. Nothing. You are nothing. No one cares, if you live or you die. No place anywhere for your kind. It would be so much easier if you were dead, then we can all live in peace. In a world rid of your filth.”

Their cruel laughter punishing the darkest corners of my heart. The desperation to break free from their hold surging in my gut, I grab a saucer bright yellow from the nearest table terrified. It shatters loudly as hairy claws of the wolf from Red Riding Hood, snake their way down my already purple ink stains.

“It’s been along while sister.”

His growl deliberately pronounced. The sound tearing strips from my soul. I swallow my fear. This was not happening again. It would not happen again. With a forceful power rising within, I cock my head. Our eyes meeting. His ugly mouth moves.

“It’s always good to see you die, sister.”

I don’t let him finish. His words silenced on his vile decaying lips. In a swift movement, I smash my head into his hideous face. My desperate fingers tearing skin in my frenzy manic.

“Enough! Enough! It is enough. I am no longer afraid of you. I am not afraid of anyone. I refuse to play your games of evil manipulation. I am no longer part of your violent hate. I disown this history, this lineage, this fear. I am my own person. I will never be this ugly vileness. I am my own truth. No more! No more!”

Rage hysterical, a beast sleeping ignites my entire being. It’s mocking a slap across my cold face. The pain of burning bones stinging my eyes watery. Again a hand reaches out. Blindly, I swing my pounding fist. It collides artistically against bones crushing. Blood red stains my fingers weeping. Senses alive, gain consciousness.

“Oh God! I’m so sorry!” I sob.

The MadHatters disfigured face, blurring before my tears ashamed. Unaffected by my outburst surprising, he pulls me close in an embrace warm, his fingers touching my wounds. The drumming of his heart soft. He coils gentle hands in my messy mop of curls. His soothing murmur, easing my racing anxiety.

“We have to let the past go. In order to authentically discover ourselves we must face our demons. You cannot hold your emotions or fears. Our demons reappear in many forms without warning. It is the cycle of life. It is how we react to them that account for our growth. Every reappearance will show you progression.”

Amongst my inner noise, the persistent door banging is unnoticed until now. The MadHatter grins, pointedly staring at his feet.

“This is not the time to cry me a river.” He orders.

Before, I remark, both of us begin to sprout taller at a pace increasing.

“Oh oh..” says the MadHatter sheepishly.

I stare at our feet gigantic growing more as he speaks.

“Believe it or not, I was lured. It’s a plot, you see. Actually, I was seduced to eat it.”

I couldn’t help myself, I burst into a hysterical giggle. My insides free from the violence buried long. The present liberating.

“You ate the cake? Knowing the story?”

I laugh incredulously. Flippantly he tosses a hand in the air. And as he does, the stubborn door caves a little.

“What are you waiting for starry groove-stars, let’s get the hell out of here!”

He stamps his feet impatiently. Instructing them in a strict father like command.

“Groove-stars? They’re my shoes by the way. And that is no way their name.”

I remark laughter lurking in the shadows.

“Finders keepers, losers weepers.”

My magical shoes, roar to life on the MadHatters giant feet. The teal and orange ink pattern swirling into action. The encoding of their powers hidden brimming to a surface reserved. Shaking from the fear from the moment before, they whimper as they begin to bask in their vibrant light. Ignited by the energy positive of hope they spring in to action. But they choke and die before they fire up again, in a hazy cloud they launch into the sky in a puff of glitter golden.

“Stealing doth not count as finding.”

I shout over the rockets ablaze on his feet. Beneath our wild storm, the door remains unbroken albeit beaten a little. As we fade into nothingness, my fingers laced with his, I ask finally,

“Are we running from our present moment?”

Music sways against my ear, his words stark,

“No, my dear, it’s knowing when to stop and walk away. We are choosing our battles wisely. Especially, when our dormant truth has awoken.”

Together, as delicate essence, engulfed in the arms of the wind we float. My attention is drawn to life below us. Under the protective gaze of the Grand Lime Tree, the Rebel Queen and her goddesses, perform a dance tribal to the calling of music soul searching. Their limbs an enchanting cocktail of harmony. Glowing limes, floating in serenity, their twinkles illuminating amongst the midnight palette. My scent hangs in the wind. She looks up, her turquoise gaze sincere,

“To live, one must not hold the past. We bury our truths. Swallow our rage. You my precious, are beyond what you see right now. You will return to us my creatively maladjusted goddess but not before your time. Live my friend. Live.

The hammering of raindrops drowning her. I cling to the MadHatter unsure of anything more than his tenderness in this moment we share as one.

At times we hold memories, emotions, thoughts and feelings that in reality are toxic. They neither belong or serve us in our present moment. Yet, we fail to notice that we haven’t processed or released them. In that way, we restrict our own potential. Sometimes to truly let go, we must be vulnerable to our darkest, ugliest and scariest moments. With hope in our hearts, we can heal to really be our uniquely, authentic selves. Even if that means we are a not necessarily the right fit for a world unfitting for us.

Photography credit to the respectful owners. A grateful thank you to the Rebel Queen and her society for showing me it is perfectly fine to be as I am.

Explore your inner rebel with: https://rebellesociety.com

Healing music: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=yKj_OBus98A#

Sole Magic: https://divadilife.com

Free your inner self in a safe way. Let your goddess guide you to this awakening. Until our next endeavour, be kind to all the parts of yourselves.


Tin-y toes

The strange avocation of surprised African Burandi drums force my tiny tin toes to a blazing inferno. In the midst of this bright vacuum a glass coffin is left discarded, it still though beams haughtily. I peer from afar, hesitant in approaching. The luminous floor glares impatiently at my indecisive apprehension. A surprising gust of impulsive wind fills the startled void. In its wake, the MadHatter explodes into the unprepared space. Carelessly, juggling limes, he stops before me. Arching an eyebrow perfect, he whispers,

“What are we waiting for? Snow White’s awakening?”

I open my mouth, then close it. What was I waiting for?

Dropping the helpless limes, he pokes my ribs, as if to check if I was alive.

“Stop that!” I snap, pushing his melting chocolate fingers away.

His cheshire cat grin hanging off his face.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

“Why are you here? he replies.

Exasperated I roll my eyes. He winks, chuckling.

“Come on! Do it! Do it! Do it!”

Frustrated, at the unwanted intrusion I throw my hands in the air.

“You want me here, you just don’t know it yet.”

At that comment, I storm towards the mysterious glass coffin, shading my eyes from the furious brightness. The MadHatter, bouncing behind. He makes an odd purring sound over my tired shoulder. The glaring halo, dramatically dimming at our arrival. The beating drums persistently faster. My heart thuds at a similar rhythm in its confines. A dull blackness descends upon us. I anxiously grab the MadHatters hand, in return he squeezes it in calming comfort. The coffin simultaneously sneezes a few times. I half expect Snow White and her dwarfs to jump out but they don’t. Rathermore, under a glow soft yellow, a pair of enchanting tangy orange shoes dipped in teal hue, peer shyly at its audience. Slowly, lowering their guard, they proceed to suspiciously assess me. Maybe they were expecting someone else. The Madhatter, maddeningy unmoving.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Put them on Cinders.”

My fingertips tremble in aching anticipation as I trace them hungrily across their sleek skin soothing. The shoes begin to fidget in agitation. Their strong magical pull yanking on a sleeping cord within. Unable to resist their soulful energy strong, I feel myself connect with their persuasive power. My bare feet throbbing in eager possibilities. An unusual spark igniting in my soles, it also gives birth to fire in my chest. I cave. Slipping my toes into their tender cocoon, I sigh in heavenly delight. A warm charge surging inside; teasing life to live. Something eccentric pregnant in my soul. The MadHatter, nudges my arm,

“Dorothy, tap, tap your heels.”

He orders loudly.

“Please no more fairytale references!” I moan.

My toes brim with liveliness intense and with cheeky decisiveness, my heels click together three times. Smoke arises from beneath them, I yank the MadHatters silk purple tie, as together we disappear in a puff sparkly. The drums now humming faintly in the distance. Once the stuffy smog settles, we find ourselves in Pakistan’s Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province. Sadly, it is a pitiful wasteland. The putried smell of rotten damage sinking into my pores.

“Why are we in this hell?”

I choke on bile rising in my throat. The MadHatter enthusiastically scours the layers of filth. Eventually, he stops. Rejoicing for no apparent reason.

“If you choose to see hell, then that’s all you will see. It is, what it is, depending on what you decide to believe.

“Great,” I mutter sarcastically under my breath. More riddles ridiculing me.

“Did you say something?” He asks standing far to close.

I step back as he laughs at my uncomfortableness. His sudden jerky breakdance, welcome. I laugh at his quirky randomness envious of his liberated freedom. Regardless of this devastation, he finds joy. He stops dancing as quickly as he started. With a thrust of his hand, he tosses a giant gold coin towards my clumsy fingers. Boldly he states,

“We choose to see pain in our present. I don’t see devastation. I see possibility. The power is in our belief.”

I take a moment to gather myself, my thoughts, my feelings. He did not see, as I did. Why is that? What is inherently so different about us?

Perceptive reality, that’s the difference. And also mindset. I am not constantly seeking pain or punishment.”

“I don’t seek pain or punishment!” I retort remarkably quickly.

His laughter musical.

Resistence. Assumption. Judgement. At no point, did I say you were. I said I am not seeking pain or punishment.”

He was right, he hadn’t said it, yet I heard it. Clearly, my mind creating it’s own illusions. Negative ones at that. The reality not lost on my thinking mind.

“I am sorry, you are right. I guess, I am a tad sensitive.”

He takes a boney finger to tap the tip of my nose, stirring sensations new. I take a deep breath. Simply, I say,

“So I am seeing a version of reality that I have created based on my own experiences. Whereby, I am surrounded by decomposing death, you see a reality based on your experiences.”

Tossing his orange hat into the musty air in agreement, his face pensive though.

“To a degree everyone is programmed by experience. Our mind determines how we apply meaning to the world. Our emotions run on familiar pathways, they respond according to how they recall feeling. Feeling that is based on previous learning. But it is our mind that manages how we see.”

I reflect, slowly taking another look at our surroundings.

“I am programmed to experience the world in this way because of my past?”

“Only if you let it.” His answer concise.

“And if I don’t let it, I will see what you do?”

He does an elobrate series of back flips. I wait for him to finish, my mind ticking whilst my feet sink into death.

“Our brains are amazing, if you rewire them, you can change anything. However, first you have to accept, that it is possible. A negative mind will never give you a positive outcome. It is the power of intention that enables a life of abundance.

His voice a brittle echo, even when he is standing beside me.

“I see life, beauty, freedom. I see a billion trees thriving here. I see possibility as the alternative is limiting. There are boundless opportunity. However if we don’t challenge our pessimism and defeatist attitudes, how will we ever evolve. Hope and belief, allow us the opportunity to take a different course. Every negative experience, will only become consolidated if we don’t look at the possibility of positivity. This is how we end up wiring our brain to find comfort in negativity, hurt, pain, etc, etc. All of that deprives you from the magic of life, gratitude and all the magnificent blessings that surrounds us. But if only we choose to look. You can’t enjoy the now if you live in yesterday.”

At the exact point, a spellbinding burst of pink butterfly wings flash past us. The MadHatter’s point proven. He takes both of my hands in his, a charge firing up between us. Suddenly, breathless shoes begin to heat, a vibration wild burning in my toes.

“I am unstoppable.” Croon the masterpieces, firmly hugging my feet.

“You can’t change without changing your mindset. It is as basic as that. Start with a happy place, it will help you remember life and in turn you will appreciate where you are today.” Shouts the MadHatter over the boisterousness of my firey shoes.


I shut my weary eyes and focus. In order to be more present, I had to change my mindset. I guess gratitude for the experiences I cherish the most, would be a good place to refresh my memory. When I open my eyes, the MadHatter is studying me intently as if trying to take note of details, he may otherwise forget. He remains silent. Together, with our fingers laced we are at the edge of a cliff, overlooking the amazing ocean in Barbados. A moment where in my life I was truly elevated. I gather, this is a creation of my own mind.

“The power of your mind, my love”, he murmers stroking my fingers.

I snatch back my hand in confusion. Disappointment dashes across his beautiful face. Silver eyes moist, he swallows his words. I hand back his shimmering coin but he shrugs.

“Keep it as a good luck charm.”

With that he is swept up in a whirlwind.

“I have taken a shower of inner peace”.

Chant the uniquely inspirational pair of shoes. Their voices singing louder than his whirlwind.

Tears threatening to erupt. I tap my heels three times.

“Time to go Dorothy. Thank you for your tremendous trouble, new feet friends.” I shout over thundercloud threats.

“I am intutively guided by my sole and the universe.”

They sing back, shuddering to speedy life. And in a puff of glitter, we vanish too.

Smog lingering in the presence of a mighty storm.

Please kindly consider the gift of life by planting trees with me:


Awaken your heart with abundant life. Credit to the amazing inspirational artists below:



Sole magic:


Healing drumming:


Earth awareness:


Photography credit to original artists.

Small blessings



To say my life is eventful is an understatement. My poor heart in constant emotional overload. My frozen body remains fixed as it was previous. A visit to the Guru a necessity soon. Additionally my mind is in a convoluted never-ending trap, it whizzes consistently. Change a misunderstood concept. I scowl without awareness at my innocent soya milkshake. Its charming appeal unnerving gloom stubborn. Effortless velvety chocolate glides down the old milk bottle retro, eyeing me suspiciously. It cascades across the unsuspecting leaf tray. Quivering, the chocolate ink delivers its own directive.

“Wherever you are, be totally there”.

My struggle with the now not a secret much. The now is difficult. Mainly dealing with it through disassociation and distraction. Unfortunately, nothing alternative presents anyway. So how to accept the now? The now is here, no matter what, it won’t be going anywhere else. Without full responsibility and individual accountability, forever I can evade the inevitable. But is this really what I want? I am not made this way. I cannot simply ignore truth, how difficult it may appear.

“Remove. Change. Accept. You must choose one option. No negativity. No excuses. No inner pollution,”

The harsh chocolate imprint rough against the soft green surface.

What should I choose? The most elementary choice would be with my here and now. So, to begin I block the voice urging my mind chaotic and then I actively look. I don’t resist the very moment I am living. Sat at an old-fashioned science lab, my swinging feet are perched on a recycled purple stool. Polished wooden floors smirk smugly at its visitor. One wall is lined with expansive books sated with their comforting companions. Full of many colourful varieties, they are a family united. Perched nearby, a vintage sparkling white ladder gleams under the glow of twinkling fairy lights for easy access to the wonderful word magic. The masterfully placed cube glass counter is glittery perfection. Its clean surface alive with a exquisite rainbow waterfall, it watches as droplets tiny, hum music of a special kind. Behind the enchanting firework pageant, vegan delicacies play peek a boo with delighted onlookers awed. A protective wall overlooks it. It is an impressive mighty one, lined with precious plants. Plants with their own unique stories. They literally grow through the wall. Most unique of all, at the centre, in its full magnitude is a grounded confident cherry blossom. It appears to care not that it is a quirky misfit. I inhale. My eyes travel to the ceiling of glass, from where mischievous raindrops tease dull clouds unimpressed. It is only then I hear the healing sound of an Indian flute playing peacefully in the backdrop.

The glass counter brims with an unspoken serenity. It is happy with its neighbours. The rustic brick wall with its big wide windows, nods reassuringly at me as if to say it would all be ok. My nostrils fill with the scent of aromatic roses, I open my clenched fists flooding with blood-red petals. The emotion in my throat overwhelming. I am here. Why can I not enjoy this then?

My now is breath-taking yet I struggle to find peace in it. The stillness perturbing. The “feeling” of being, the feeling of now like a noose hanging around my neck. It hits with a shock, I don’t like myself as I am. “There is no joy in myself” because who knew who I was anyway? My feet leap from the irritated stool. And as quickly as my tin body allows, I make an escape for the restroom. Hoping for welcome respite. Slamming the door distressed, I try controlling my whirlwind. Lights dim, begin to flicker violently. I stand limply in a narrow hallway, no toilet in sight. Instead here in a wickedly white trap, I am. Light bounces of it, casting ghosts on the thin walls. Two stubborn doors appear. One tattooed in crimson blood, the other a yellow rabbit hole. My throat lets roar a groan agonised. I cannot play this game today. I want to be left in my misery. Yet, here I am, glowering at these two purely naïve doors. Neither of them, willingly keeping me company. There is no obvious other choice but to open the doors to face the now.

Instinct guides my hand, I drop to my pleading knees to turn the golden knob and as I do the lemon door glides open with ease. It awaits my arrival. Awkwardly, unsteady I recover from my stumbled entry. An astonishing laughter accidently tears through my belly. On an ancient rocking chair, I am welcomed by the MadHatter in his complete humble splendour. His majestic ebony skin, shining like rays of sunshine. Razor sharp cheek bones, flushed pink. Curious wide set eyes, twinkle in starry moonlight. He deliberately flutters his eyelashes heavy. The colour of his eyes an ever-changing splatter of ink random. Long limbs feline-ish splashed lazily across the inviting rocking chair. Dressed in a starched shirt white, velvet sea green trousers and a well fitted silver blazer, he appears rather demurely dashing. A king upon his throne. Although, he wears one lime sock and his wild afro fights his pompous tall hat that is littered with buttons of different colours and sizes. I try not to gawk, wondering why the hell I am here. And as if I had spoken the words aloud, my childhood plays across walls, anxious at the impending horror they are forced to witness. The MadHatter, flicks through my memories, in an urgent attempt to find something, which he clearly doesn’t. On second thought, he clears his throat noisely.

“The past cannot survive in your presence.”

He drawls in a strong Texan way.

“We avoid the present by thinking and talking about the past”.

He elobrately clicks his long fingers to switch off the nightmare flashbacks. I am silently grateful, nausea rising in my throat. Unceremoniously, he kicks me out of the room, back into the patient hallway. Alone the crimson door awaits. Dizzy with fear, I force the door open. This room wreaks of death. Its stench overbearing. Messages in my own handwriting scribing the walls rotten. At first it makes no sense. I was witnessing my own death. Then the penny drops rather rudely. The walls a reminder of my incomplete passionate dreams. My unfulfilled desires to travel, to learn, to grow, to serve, to experience, to laugh. Japan. Morocco. Mozambique. Mexico. All crumbling beneath decaying flesh. The list tiresomely long. I vomit. This was my wish list memory box. All unfinished, until maybe a later time. Like a jack out of the box, the MadHatter pokes his head through the wall.

“It is not what you think it is.”

He raps repetitively as everything fades before me. Again, I am alone in the restroom. I run. I need to get away. The need desperate. In a flash, I am outside, blurry eyed and exhausted. I shove shaking fists into my trouser pockets to find a note. I pull it out, then another and another. It is a singing five pound note. The Queen rapping in the MadHatter’s voice. The message the same as earlier. I almost throw the money at the nearest bystander.

“My good deed of the day, please keep it.”

My voice a crackle static.

They reply, I hear not. Aching ears numb. Grateful for the crisp air, I disappear into the rain. Relieved to be here now.

Understanding presence is being present. Fuelling the past in thought or word only encourages to stay attached to the past. Further deluding us from any sense of the now.


In reaching this place, I was kindly guided by the following masters. All credit to them for their expertise. You may find their healing of some therapy, please seek at your own will.

Quotes: The Power of Now by Ekhart Tolle


Vegan recipes: twitter@avantgarde

Healing flute music: http://www.meditativemind.org

Biodegradable eco-friendly essentials:


Heal your soul with this calming wonder.


Photography credit to original artists.

Moonlight mysteries


Moonlit mid summer nights evoke an offbeat hysteria, especially as summer tails to a close. It has an eery charm powerful that I am unable to resist. Its hypnotic spell channelling a calling of times long forgotten. Tonight, fatigue engulfs my aching bones battered. My fragile heart throbs as I drift between misty wakefulness and drunken sleep. I have been stuck for longer than I dare to admit. I have no conscious recognition of when my limbs last danced in agile merriment. Recollection lingers in the now, where nothing else is a tangible reality. My body only remembers pain, everlasting painful agony. I cannot recall how or why I became the Tin Warrior. Today is not the time to indulge in these precious thoughts.  Dying is a very exhausting experience. Unfamiliar stages taunting my wired sensibilities worn. Refusing to fight broody fatigue, I cave beneath her weight heavy. My jaded eyes submit to bored sleep, yawning in exasperation at my petty defiance. This midsummer night was a slave to the moonlight.


I watch intently as my consciousness hovers over my troubled physical body. Lying in a coffin of my own making. I shudder at this confrontational truth staring naked at my essence. Locked in a tug of war, I break away first. Leaving my shell behind, temporary respite for us both. I was in no mood for a battle, especially one I was not ready to lose. I am consciousness, I will not be defeated. Right now, I had a promise to keep. Dharma was beckoning with its kind offer of gentle peaceful serenity. I certainly was unwilling to kick this gift horse in the mouth. My attention turns to the moonlight, he glistens weeping amongst his backdrop noir. I somehow, always end up in the welcoming arms of mother nature. It calms the noise gurgling within. I fling back my arms, throwing myself in the breast of glittering long blades, their scent earthy. Greeted happily by warm eager lavender, excited by my presence. I miss this freedom. My current state of limbo excruciatingly long. I know, I am making progress yet my impatience at the pace feeding greedy dissatisfaction. I shut it down with the polite reminder that this was a process, which had its own course. All I had to do was to listen and the signs would appear themselves.

I exhale, filling my suffocated lungs with clean air fresh. I cannot remember when I last breathed with such ease. My senses immediately sharp and alert. The moon appearing closer than before. Our gazes grapple. Neither looking away. Transfixed in its luminous magic, I transcend into a new reality. My instinct curious. An illuminated path unfolds, hypnotised I pursue it without any question. A bird small, my trusted guide. He salutes, his head bouncing in a slow pronounced way. Ready for the mysteries that lay ahead, I await its signal. Ecstatic excitement exploding in my chest. Finally, we are closer to closure.


Purple misty fog whimper’s at my arrival but I am undeterred. My feet pleading to uncover more. The gateway of proud trees part instantly as we enter into a magnetic force field of energy electric, the no-nonsense bird abruptly pauses. He nods again, this time though in farewell. I understand, alone I must enter. Without any delay I stalk across the pathway. My journey ending at a turquoise glossy mirror of fluid waves. Moonlight ablaze across its delicious face. The wild energy storm catching fire around us. Unsure of what to do next, I dip a tentative toe in the water. Its heat rising in my body. Why am I here?  Twinkling stars randomly twirl in the cool night, unlocking a code secret. My gut begins to throb. I inhale, anticipation scratching its walls. Without any warning, I find myself falling deeper and deeper into the turquoise abyss. I thrash, swallowing mouthfuls of pearly silk. Moonlight extends a hand, wrapping itself against my trembling. It’s soft caress familiar. This is when I see myself. A self that had never surfaced before. Carelessly I danced in the streets, then in the ocean, and again in lush greenness. Laughter rejoicing in my presence, following my every step. My skin radiates a shimmering brightness gold. My heart at ease in peaceful content. The cosmic order reset. My purpose served. No more outstanding debts aggrieved. Home at last. Tingling fervour injecting bliss into my pounding blood stream.

“To be free, you must be awake but being awake isn’t enough. You must be brave and confront your unspoken fears. You cannot be unstuck, if you constantly repeat your previous experiences. We cannot expect change unless we are willing to be different. Awareness relies on your ability to navigate your journey. And the journey is co-dependent on learning and having the chance to take risks. Once, you reach here you must consolidate your lessons otherwise you will find yourself in another loop.”

The moonlight purrs in my ears. The words drowning beneath the laughter ringing in my head. I want to speak, however my words choke in my throat. I am beyond this now, hasn’t my soul suffered enough?

“Without the suffering, who knows what you would be. In the now, this is who you are. You are exactly where you are supposed to be. However, do you suffer needlessly? Yes, you do. It is a choice to suffer, nothing but yourself holds you in this cycle. You can choose to exit. Yet, I have watched you cling to your toxic baggage. You are beyond this, why else would you die?”

Tears roll down my face into the strong palm of the moonlight. He quivers at their touch.

“Guilt is also a choice. We have to live by the consequences of choice. There are many crossroads, we must decide to unburden ourselves from the projection of other’s choices. We are responsible for our own morality. Kindness, has boundaries, ones that are also kind to ourselves.”

I gulp, a new dawn surging. I am not helpless. Moonlight strokes my curls wet.

“You are far from helpless. You are life. Only you can be your own guide.”

Both of us silent. Our eyes fixed on the vision of a carefree, vibrant version of myself. Emotion cascading against my ribcage. The gentle fingers of moonlight teasing my skin. Swiftly, everything vanishes. I stand alone at the brink of life. The moon shining above my head.

“Thank you.” I whisper.

It is not as simple as just being consciously aware. Drama death cycles have an exit strategy if we are open to it. My destiny in my own hands. Burdens old have no place in the now or the future. This is the moment to embark on paths unknown. Tonight, I uncovered a truth stark. I do know who I want to become but I am blocking my own progress by repeating unhealthy patterns. It is important to have a destination, yet how we get there is a matter of choice. I have to give myself permission to choose paths untested no matter what others believe. My self belief is the only way to protect my essence.

“You are the warrior for a reason. Believe nothing else.”

The Moon declares boldly brazen. My reply swallowed up inside as my body pulls back its consciousness. For now, I work within the Tin Warrior, embedding as one until this mystery deciphers at its own pace.





Pick me up, please.


Unlike Hulk, tearing angrily through clothes to emerge as a new self isn’t as a simplistic as it appears. Unfortunately, I have learnt from previous experience that this is a process, which requires patience and persistence. So, I persist. My visits to the Guru are less frequent, this is progress. For one day very soon, I will dance like the Tin Man. My body isn’t fully able to function. It has patterns that require attention permanent. Soon I will be a well oiled machine, floating seamless across the breezy night. For now, I must pay attention to the secret musings of my soul. In the meantime, I will listen to the unveiling of inner voids, creeping upon my restless mind.

As I catch the last rays of sunlight, my semi stuck frame stands beneath a grand lime tree. The light fading behind the mask of a grey night. One by one, the limes thud to the ground, wet from a shower earlier. They fall erratically in a rhythm oddly reassuring. I am enveloped by a wall of limes, trapped as they gather in organised uniform. I shake my head in bewildered amazement. The limes holding me hostage. A thunderous roar, rumbles beneath my cool feet. I look up to notice the enormous lime tree, laughing heartily.

“My apologies. You should see your face right now.”

The tree squeaks, its voice tiny for such a giant. Buzzing giggles follow. The limes mocking. I shrug. I am the Tin Warrior. What’s there to be afraid off? A tree and a lime army, come on! I straighten shoulders tight as best as I can muster. Standing tall, I cock my head. Defiance creeping over my velvet smooth skin. They laugh harder at my attempts of grandeur. I sigh. I would have to fight my way out. I instruct my legs to move but instead they remain fixed to the ground.

“You are not going anywhere Tiny Warrior”.

The limes goad cheerily. Their buzzing irritating.

“Its Tin Warrior not Tiny”.

The limes shriek hysterically, juice spurting from their silken flesh.

“Enough!” orders the tree.

Everyone seizes. Nothing moves, not even the wind. I fix my gaze upon the lime tree, silently urging my feet to move. The limes united in an orderly fashion, await further instructions. My restless heart becoming impatient. I did not like this silence. For what felt like an age, no one made noise of any kind. I shifted consciously aware of being watched like a rat in an experimental lab. Then eventually someone coughed crudely.

“To be unstuck, you must uncarry your baggage.”

The tree stated blandly without emotion or affection. My heart fell into a strange beating pattern, something was not right warned my gut. With a vicious snarl, the tree outstretched its thin branches and shook me with a mighty force. Suddenly the limes formed a shape of a furious colossal warrior, with the swift thrust of his arm he threw me across the ground. Down, down, down I spiralled. The limes following me as wounded soldiers desperate to destroy anyone. Their juice burning my eyes. Uncarry what? Flustered, I rub my temples in the hope some semblance of sanity would follow. None came. As I continued to spin out of control, I notice a trail of loaded bags scattered behind me. I pick up a lime and toss it. Another smacks me hard in the chest. I scream in shock at the sudden attack.

“What am I missing?” I ask.

The lime freezes mid attack, in slight amusement, it flicks its loosely hanging leaf out of its way. My impatience grows at this impending defeat.

“You have to let go. It’s that simple. Stop resisting.”

It hisses.

“I am not fighting you!” I snap.

“Oh yes, yes, yes! you are! We’re not fighting you. You fight us. We only defend ourselves”, it spits back.

The brief truce over. It leaps on my forehead, snarling before it jumps into the crowd again. What was I missing? I was on new path, my mutual compromise with food was in motion. So what next? Baggage? As my fruit bashing continues, I sink into the ground. Resistance is futile, right? The moment, I relax so does the chaos. A sprinkle of rain gushes over my sticky face.

“This is about your state of ‘being’ not ‘having’.”

It was the rain, it spoke to me before lightning broke. My inner turmoil faltering at the precise moment. In order to live an authentic life, I would need to unload my baggage. This confrontation was a battle of my own making. I wanted a new beginning, yet unknowingly I was holding on to the baggage of my old self. It wasnt going to allow progress. The past didn’t know how too. I no longer wanted to “have”, I wanted to be. This was when the Zen Mistress, called me. Her breathless words, rattling against the wind.

“Declutter your life, your mind, your soul. Do not carry what you no longer need in your heart, in your home, in your life. Let it be.”

This was the point I was missing. I couldn’t actualise my new life when I was adamant in carrying baggage. My rebirth would continue to resist until I could remove the toxic baggage I wore. But how?

“Uncomplicate it. We need nothing in excess. We need less, we want more.”

Her melody snapping me from a subconscious coma, I hadn’t even realised I was drifting in. I had to minimise my life. I didn’t need things, I just hadnt fully comprehended my wants. I swallow, strangely nervous.

“Will you please pick me up?” I ask.


The tree extends a branch, roughly yanking me up.

“Thank you.” I mutter watching the limes suspiciously.

I step away, my palms in the air. My thoughts in a tizzy. It was time to declutter my life. I could leap naked into the unknown or savour some sentimental treasures but I had to make a start somewhere. I turn around one last time to find the limes grinning at me. I pray the Zen Mistress is close-by, round two in a fruit war wasnt appealing at all.

Sometimes truth evades us, other times we deliberately ignore it. However, we cannot grow if we do not face our own realities. It is not weak to give up things or people who no longer serve us. It will however, take time to be accustomed to our new ways. The pleasure is in the process. I had to find that before I could go anywhere.

I appreciate the Zen Mistress and her accidental wisdom. It charged my spirit with a direction that was least expected. I have always wanted a simple way of life. So now I can move beyond thought into the active building of a reality where I am unbound to consumption, collection, confusion. Happily my small feet can skip on to next stage in the optimism that the limes will be in a better mood next time. I wish.

Find your own Zen Mistress, you can find mine below. May her gentle calmness sooth your buzzing nerves too.

No more lime wars for now.

Zen Mistresses world:

website: http://www.pickuplimes.com
instagram: https://www.instagram.com/pickuplimes…
facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pickuplimes/
pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/sadiabadiei/

Ps. I must share the Tin Man dance, I can’t wait to be able to do my own. Enjoy my fellow warriors.