writing poetry - or experiencing poetry (firsthand, through our senses).

Shouldn’t it be the other way around? - This voice became louder recently. Reading, immersing myself in poetry first, feeling inspired to become a poet, too? Learning, experimenting first - how dare I share my poetry when I just began weaving words, trying to express my inner landscape, the depth of my human heart?

How dare I dive into another creative passion? Isn’t it enough already to play Ukulele and the harmonium, write this blog, dance, dive into dreamwork, archetypes, plants, nature rituals, weave with cacao, study transformational practices, make makramee clothes, (re)learn crochet, chant and sing?

They say “one change begets another”, I’d say rediscovering our childhood selves (or our inner artist, the Leo archetype, childhood passions) is like uncovering a forgotten well of elements: The water wants to flow freely, guiding us into the depth of our truth, fire desires to dance its own rhythm and discover exciting territories, air longs to travel with the wind, to weave stories and shake off heavy thoughts, earth wants to build and commune with the trees, belong to the land and experience reciprocity.

But let’s stay with poetry today.

How can I read poems when all my heart wants is to witness nature’s poetry, firsthand?

No one in between, I want to be close to the earth, lay my ear and heart on the forest floor so I can feel her heartbeat, knocking on the walls around my heart: Hello child, do you hear me? Feel me? I’m here to play. To be the friend and teacher you’ve been longing for.

I want to be witnessed, felt, seen, admired even, whispers the lake, and the trees and birds agree.

So I listen and write, and read later. Because now that this river has become alive within me, (it’s been there all along, but forgotten and buried,) I do long to read the creations of others, too, to bathe in how they sense and see nature’s poetry. There’s more, so much more to (re)discover. In my own time, pace and way. No other human (teacher) telling me to analyse, to stick to their structure and system, to compare. To create to be assessed, to achieve, compete, succeed.

Excitement runs through my inner rivers of creativity, letting each cell know she’s (finally) awake: the inner artist, ready to play.

What I recently added to my vocabulary (and somatic experience): to let myself be enchanted again. And to remember that we ourselves enchant others, too.

It goes both ways, so let’s share, receive and give, freely.

Here are two of my latest poems.

Forgotten rivers

Forgotten rivers remain unknown

Until we listen to its silent pulsation,

A whisper of desire, a growing longing

To remember where her untamed current could take us.

If we only knew she‘s flowing beneath our feet, alive, hungry for daylight, to live through you and me.

Why did we bury her in the first place?

Can we free her? Certainly.

But what would happen if you realized

You had to remove what you‘ve built?

Pillars of your past, buildings filled, stuffed with memories, regret, attachment.

What if you had to break open the layers of concrete, values of old times, dreams of those who lived long before us?

Would you sign up for this mission?

Do you wonder if her force could free you from the rigidness, the melancholy?

Caused by a life on concrete,

living the illusion of separateness.

Could she infuse your dreams with memories

of a time when magic was present in everyday life?

Would you remember that time itself is a construct,

and that we can‘t ever be stuck or move backwards?

If the ancient times are calling your name,

Does this mean what you‘re longing for is longing for you, too?

I‘m about to find out - what about you?

◌

flicker

I can feel the spark again.

A flicker, a rocking in my blood.

Thank God it’s back.

The search isn’t over,

But there’s a path

Worth running up that hill

A promise for beauty and pain.

That’s the thing,

We think opposing forces

Can’t co-exist,

But what if they pave a new path for us?

⫸ A personal note: opposites do create a third path, internally and externally. If two options, paths, opinions seem unrealistic, extreme, like they couldn’t both exist simultaneously, let them work on you rather than trying to find a solution. Let them weave themselves into your life, daytime and dream state. Try them on like a pair of gloves or boots, be present, in your body, feel the emotions being stirred up by experiencing these opposites. Shake, cry, laugh, scream, write, paint, throw stones (be safe), run, lay on the earth, float in the lake, watch the clouds, sing, speak with yourself, to a tree (spirit), ask for help, offer what you feel and express it. It’s a wild path, that’s for sure.

But feeling like you actually belong here, on this earth, at home in this beautiful, magnificent body, is worth leaving the familiar path.

The wilderness will become familiar soon, she’s part of our humanness, too.

She will call your name, when you’re about to let comfort, tiredness, social media or inner critics trick you into sticking to old habits.

But you have to answer the call. Go outside and play.